GIFFGAFF!
What's Giffgaff, you might be thinking? Well, what might it be?
My first thoughts were that it's a word for what well-to-do people say when they mess up a sentence, as in "I've made a real giffgaff there." Or it could be an insult, along the lines of a nincompoop, eg, "O, you giffgaff!" Maybe it could be some kind of cleaning product, given that it sounds like Jif, which later became the way more rubbish 'Cif.' The advert might say something like "Look at how Giffgaff cleans away all the dirt! Proven to be 98% more effective than other leading brands."
Add to these suggestions anything you also might have come up with, maybe it's a kid's clothing brand or another euphemism for nakedness. All fairly decent guesses I think.
But no, it's a mobile phone network! It just seems silly to me, a mobile phone network called Giffgaff. And who thought it up? Were they sitting around in the board room, bouncing ideas around and THAT came out as the best one? Really? What were the others? Fliff-flaff? Binkbonk? Doodah? Fluffoff?
I know Orange and O2 and 3G aren't particularly inspiring names, or anything to do with phones, but they're at least credible. Just straightforward. And the advertising which includes the name is memorable. The future's bright, the future's Orange. Simple. I doubt many people would sign up if the advert went 'The future's bright, the future's Giffgaff.'
Quite a few things have names that I think must have been a result of no-one else turning up for the Ideas Meeting in the board room, or everyone being tired/on drugs/too scared to say it sounded rubbish.
Wii. It's just basic silliness. Playing on the Wii is NOT an appealing prospect and, in fact, I believe most people grew out of that after doing it once as a toddler and being told that it's not for playing with, dear, it belongs in the toilet.
A brand of biscuits that was quite popular when I lived in Southern Africa was called Eet-Sum-Mor. What is that about?! It's like they asked a 14 year old what might sound 'cool.'
"O just do it a bit like text-speak and it'll raise your coolness ratings by a billion!" says the 14 year old. "Ok," say all the grown ups. "If that's what the kids are doing nowadays, let's go with it. We were going to call it Eat Some More but Eet-Sum-Mor is better. Should we add 'LOL' on the end too? Oo! Tempting!"
Saturday, 14 April 2012
Friday, 13 April 2012
F is for...
FILING!
If any of you work in an office, you probably don't like filing. Most people I know don't like it. It's tedious, takes forever and it's so easy to get to the end and realise you've done something wrong and everything's in the wrong place.
And that's why I can't explain the fact that I love filing. I love it. I love it when there is a pile of paperwork chaos and you come along and impose order on it, give everything a home, in a nice neat way. I once did some work with a project which had only just been set up. There was a small office space, some empty filing cabinets, a computer and the biggest disorganised mess I've ever seen in an office. Did I think 'O no! What a nightmare!' No! I rubbed my hands with glee and thought 'I can't WAIT to file all this stuff!'
I made dividers for in the filing cabinet. I looked through every individual piece of paper and worked out which category it belonged in. I bought marker pens and highlighters and gave each piece of paper a brief description so I wouldn't have to read everything again to work out what it was about. I worked late. I came early. I found muscles I never had, lifting stacks of paperwork. I shunned company or food or even drinks. I HAD A PROJECT! AND I WANTED TO COMPLETE IT!
It probably took about three weeks of half days here and there as I had a full time job somewhere else. After everything had gone into a place in the physical filing cabinets, I then got started on the electronic filing. I think I might love electronic filing even more. I have a certain way that I name files, which I wrote up on an instruction sheet, should someone else dare to step inside MY office to use the computer and try to save something which didn't have the proper name format. God forbid!
My memory is quite good when I'm in project mode because I'm really into what I'm doing. So even after there was order imposed and it looked like a normal office, with paperwork all in a proper place, I would get calls on my mobile, while I was at my other job, asking me where the piece of paper for the business bank account, with details of the loan agreement was. And I knew. I just knew. "Second drawer down in the large blue cabinet next to the computer. It's near the middle, and the tab says Business Banking Natwest." It was just there, in my memory.
Omygoodness, I think I need to file something! Writing this post has really excited me!
If any of you work in an office, you probably don't like filing. Most people I know don't like it. It's tedious, takes forever and it's so easy to get to the end and realise you've done something wrong and everything's in the wrong place.
And that's why I can't explain the fact that I love filing. I love it. I love it when there is a pile of paperwork chaos and you come along and impose order on it, give everything a home, in a nice neat way. I once did some work with a project which had only just been set up. There was a small office space, some empty filing cabinets, a computer and the biggest disorganised mess I've ever seen in an office. Did I think 'O no! What a nightmare!' No! I rubbed my hands with glee and thought 'I can't WAIT to file all this stuff!'
I made dividers for in the filing cabinet. I looked through every individual piece of paper and worked out which category it belonged in. I bought marker pens and highlighters and gave each piece of paper a brief description so I wouldn't have to read everything again to work out what it was about. I worked late. I came early. I found muscles I never had, lifting stacks of paperwork. I shunned company or food or even drinks. I HAD A PROJECT! AND I WANTED TO COMPLETE IT!
It probably took about three weeks of half days here and there as I had a full time job somewhere else. After everything had gone into a place in the physical filing cabinets, I then got started on the electronic filing. I think I might love electronic filing even more. I have a certain way that I name files, which I wrote up on an instruction sheet, should someone else dare to step inside MY office to use the computer and try to save something which didn't have the proper name format. God forbid!
My memory is quite good when I'm in project mode because I'm really into what I'm doing. So even after there was order imposed and it looked like a normal office, with paperwork all in a proper place, I would get calls on my mobile, while I was at my other job, asking me where the piece of paper for the business bank account, with details of the loan agreement was. And I knew. I just knew. "Second drawer down in the large blue cabinet next to the computer. It's near the middle, and the tab says Business Banking Natwest." It was just there, in my memory.
Omygoodness, I think I need to file something! Writing this post has really excited me!
Thursday, 12 April 2012
E is for...
EVERY DAY!
These are the things I do every day.
Drink tea x 10000
Yoga
Blog
Bake
Food shop
Walk
Watch TV
Check phone x 10000
Think about how soon my exams are
Look at my pile of textbooks (I don't mean, looking at the words on the page, I mean looking at the pile, then looking away again)
'Baking every day?' you might say. 'EVERY day?' Well, yes. I find a way, don't you worry. Things always need making. Last week I made (are you ready?) banana bread x 2, raspberry marshmallows, plum jam, baklava, an Easter egg, fruity nutty snack bars, vanilla and goji berry muffins x 4, two loaves of bread (one I turned into breadcrumbs) and then all the stuff I ate for my normal meals. I don't usually eat any of the cakey stuff I make so that's not my actual calorie intake, in case you're thinking I must be really hungry all the time!
I like to feed people. I'm definitely a feeder. I like to give people things I've made but then there's the nervousness in case they don't like it but they're too polite to say. So there's the worry and the 'Is it ok? Are you sure? Is it tasty? It's ok if it's not. Did I overcook it? Undercook it? Are there too many nuts in it? Not enough nuts? Are you sure it's tasty?'
Linked in with that is food shopping. Yes I do that thing everyone does, a big massive shop every few days or every week or something, so why do I need to go every day? Because I like it! I like going through the slidey doors and the cool air welcomes you in and you just walk around, amongst all the food, and feel nice. I wander up and down the jam section, getting ideas for new flavours to experiment with. I potter around the fruit section, seeing if there are any offers on, planning my next baking adventure. I go to the bread and cake section, stealing ideas again. Then to the baking aisle and debate whether the 500 eggs in my fridge are enough or whether I need 6 more. Survey the tea selection. Then I end up at the cookbook section, sneakily reading them cover to cover. Then I emerge back into the sunlight, an hour later, empty handed but feeling wonderful. Sometimes that's all I need. I've had my kick.
Watching TV every day. You know, I couldn't even tell you what I've watched recently. It's such a mindless activity. And so much time gets absorbed into it. It's probably the most useless 'every day' thing I do. When I'm a bit knackered from work I settle down on the sofa with a cup of tea and stare at it but it's not really like I'm watching it, I'm in some sort of trance and the TV happens to be there, keeping me company.
I'm not even going to start on 'think about how soon my exams are' and 'look at my pile of textbooks.' I worked hard all year actually, so it's not like I'm really intimidated by it. I think it will be fine. It's just doing it, getting started on the revision. I will. Soon.
These are the things I do every day.
Drink tea x 10000
Yoga
Blog
Bake
Food shop
Walk
Watch TV
Check phone x 10000
Think about how soon my exams are
Look at my pile of textbooks (I don't mean, looking at the words on the page, I mean looking at the pile, then looking away again)
'Baking every day?' you might say. 'EVERY day?' Well, yes. I find a way, don't you worry. Things always need making. Last week I made (are you ready?) banana bread x 2, raspberry marshmallows, plum jam, baklava, an Easter egg, fruity nutty snack bars, vanilla and goji berry muffins x 4, two loaves of bread (one I turned into breadcrumbs) and then all the stuff I ate for my normal meals. I don't usually eat any of the cakey stuff I make so that's not my actual calorie intake, in case you're thinking I must be really hungry all the time!
I like to feed people. I'm definitely a feeder. I like to give people things I've made but then there's the nervousness in case they don't like it but they're too polite to say. So there's the worry and the 'Is it ok? Are you sure? Is it tasty? It's ok if it's not. Did I overcook it? Undercook it? Are there too many nuts in it? Not enough nuts? Are you sure it's tasty?'
Linked in with that is food shopping. Yes I do that thing everyone does, a big massive shop every few days or every week or something, so why do I need to go every day? Because I like it! I like going through the slidey doors and the cool air welcomes you in and you just walk around, amongst all the food, and feel nice. I wander up and down the jam section, getting ideas for new flavours to experiment with. I potter around the fruit section, seeing if there are any offers on, planning my next baking adventure. I go to the bread and cake section, stealing ideas again. Then to the baking aisle and debate whether the 500 eggs in my fridge are enough or whether I need 6 more. Survey the tea selection. Then I end up at the cookbook section, sneakily reading them cover to cover. Then I emerge back into the sunlight, an hour later, empty handed but feeling wonderful. Sometimes that's all I need. I've had my kick.
Watching TV every day. You know, I couldn't even tell you what I've watched recently. It's such a mindless activity. And so much time gets absorbed into it. It's probably the most useless 'every day' thing I do. When I'm a bit knackered from work I settle down on the sofa with a cup of tea and stare at it but it's not really like I'm watching it, I'm in some sort of trance and the TV happens to be there, keeping me company.
I'm not even going to start on 'think about how soon my exams are' and 'look at my pile of textbooks.' I worked hard all year actually, so it's not like I'm really intimidated by it. I think it will be fine. It's just doing it, getting started on the revision. I will. Soon.
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
D is for...
DEFINITION!
Today, a guest blogger is going have a little look at some words he feels need closer examination...
CAN I HAVE A WORD? (Part 3)
“Nothing to breathe but air,
Quick as a flash ‘tis gone;
Nowhere to fall but off,
Nowhere to stand but on.” (Benjamin Franklin King, 1857-94)
Can I have a word? – Again? Yes it’s part 3. We’ve done authors using words we don’t know; we’ve done us trying to beef up our vocabularies; now we’re going to look at a difficult, some may say impossible, couple of words to define properly: nowhere & everywhere.
Have you heard people (often children or teenagers) answer the question, “Where do you think you’re going?” with that innocent sounding, “Nowhere”; someone asks you where you are and you say, for example, “in the middle of nowhere”. That’s a rather longer answer than a simple “I don’t know” which, it seems to me, does the same job. You could shorten it to ‘ITMON’ if you wanted to invent a new word (for something that doesn’t exist anyway?). Not sure that’ll catch on.
First, let’s investigate “Nowhere” and the whole concept of it. Let’s start by checking the dictionary: it means either ‘in or to no place, not anywhere’ or ‘out of the running’. It’s an adverb so you can’t actually go to nowhere or come from nowhere. It’s not a noun like a place name would be. What I want to know is how can you be ‘not anywhere’? In other words how can we define a place that doesn’t exist by using a concept that also doesn’t exist with words that actually don’t make sense? Now there’s the problem. Perhaps we are moving into the realms of philosophy here. However, Ambrose Bierce (1842-1913) pulls the rug from under our feet by giving us this quote: “Philosophy: a route of many roads leading from nowhere to nothing”. Not a great deal of help there then. Hmm…. Ok, so maybe philosophy isn’t the way to go.
Remember, though, it’s physically impossible to be nowhere because, when you think about it, there is always a latitude & longitude for wherever on the Earth’s surface you stand; if you’re underground (or under the sea) there is still a location simply with an added dimension of “X” no. of metres under the surface. The same is true if you’re above the ground even right to the top of Mount Everest except you don’t need the extra dimension because the latitude & longitude cross at the particular height where you are.
Therefore you must be somewhere! You might not be in an actual place that’s named on a map or even known locally by a particular name but you just can’t be nowhere. Also it’s important to remember nowhere is an adverb. That means Talking Heads got it wrong when they sang about being on the Road to nowhere (1985); Dusty Springfield got it wrong when she sang about being In the middle of nowhere (1965); and the Beatles got it wrong when they sang about a Nowhere man sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans, for nobody (1966); and perhaps the most confusing lines on the subject come from Jeff Beck in the opening lines of his song Hi-ho silver lining: “You’re everywhere and nowhere baby…” (1972). Now, just in case you were totally confused as to where that might be, Mr Beck helps us out by explaining that you’re (probably), “…..going down a bumpy hillside in a hippy hat.” Ah well, that’s a lot clearer then, eh?
So why do we use it? Is it to sound cool? Or to convey the idea that we are some kind of free spirit? Is it to emphasise the fact that you’re in a desolate place? – The middle of nowhere. Or is it because, really, we don’t understand what we’re saying? So why not stop using it or say it a different way. Go on you know you could. In the song Cotton Avenue, Joni Mitchell said it this way: “If you got no place special, well then you just go no place special”. Not nowhere just a “not special” other place.
I’ve tried looking for Erewhon but there’s nowhere so mixed up as that place!
However, I know what you’re thinking: will he be joining in after he’s heard those distinctive, foot-tapping, opening bars of the Jeff Beck song on the radio by singing along with “You’re everywhere and nowhere, baby, that’s where you’re at……….”? Course I will!
But hang on a minute…… I’ve just had a thought - where’s everywhere? How can anything, let alone a person, be everywhere? Is it all places……. except nowhere (or including nowhere)? And what about ITMON? Einstein gave us E=mc2; the Rambler has come up with E=E-N, (where E=everywhere, N=nowhere). Will it catch on? I doubt it but have a serious think about it!
Today, a guest blogger is going have a little look at some words he feels need closer examination...
CAN I HAVE A WORD? (Part 3)
“Nothing to breathe but air,
Quick as a flash ‘tis gone;
Nowhere to fall but off,
Nowhere to stand but on.” (Benjamin Franklin King, 1857-94)
Can I have a word? – Again? Yes it’s part 3. We’ve done authors using words we don’t know; we’ve done us trying to beef up our vocabularies; now we’re going to look at a difficult, some may say impossible, couple of words to define properly: nowhere & everywhere.
Have you heard people (often children or teenagers) answer the question, “Where do you think you’re going?” with that innocent sounding, “Nowhere”; someone asks you where you are and you say, for example, “in the middle of nowhere”. That’s a rather longer answer than a simple “I don’t know” which, it seems to me, does the same job. You could shorten it to ‘ITMON’ if you wanted to invent a new word (for something that doesn’t exist anyway?). Not sure that’ll catch on.
First, let’s investigate “Nowhere” and the whole concept of it. Let’s start by checking the dictionary: it means either ‘in or to no place, not anywhere’ or ‘out of the running’. It’s an adverb so you can’t actually go to nowhere or come from nowhere. It’s not a noun like a place name would be. What I want to know is how can you be ‘not anywhere’? In other words how can we define a place that doesn’t exist by using a concept that also doesn’t exist with words that actually don’t make sense? Now there’s the problem. Perhaps we are moving into the realms of philosophy here. However, Ambrose Bierce (1842-1913) pulls the rug from under our feet by giving us this quote: “Philosophy: a route of many roads leading from nowhere to nothing”. Not a great deal of help there then. Hmm…. Ok, so maybe philosophy isn’t the way to go.
Remember, though, it’s physically impossible to be nowhere because, when you think about it, there is always a latitude & longitude for wherever on the Earth’s surface you stand; if you’re underground (or under the sea) there is still a location simply with an added dimension of “X” no. of metres under the surface. The same is true if you’re above the ground even right to the top of Mount Everest except you don’t need the extra dimension because the latitude & longitude cross at the particular height where you are.
Therefore you must be somewhere! You might not be in an actual place that’s named on a map or even known locally by a particular name but you just can’t be nowhere. Also it’s important to remember nowhere is an adverb. That means Talking Heads got it wrong when they sang about being on the Road to nowhere (1985); Dusty Springfield got it wrong when she sang about being In the middle of nowhere (1965); and the Beatles got it wrong when they sang about a Nowhere man sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans, for nobody (1966); and perhaps the most confusing lines on the subject come from Jeff Beck in the opening lines of his song Hi-ho silver lining: “You’re everywhere and nowhere baby…” (1972). Now, just in case you were totally confused as to where that might be, Mr Beck helps us out by explaining that you’re (probably), “…..going down a bumpy hillside in a hippy hat.” Ah well, that’s a lot clearer then, eh?
So why do we use it? Is it to sound cool? Or to convey the idea that we are some kind of free spirit? Is it to emphasise the fact that you’re in a desolate place? – The middle of nowhere. Or is it because, really, we don’t understand what we’re saying? So why not stop using it or say it a different way. Go on you know you could. In the song Cotton Avenue, Joni Mitchell said it this way: “If you got no place special, well then you just go no place special”. Not nowhere just a “not special” other place.
I’ve tried looking for Erewhon but there’s nowhere so mixed up as that place!
However, I know what you’re thinking: will he be joining in after he’s heard those distinctive, foot-tapping, opening bars of the Jeff Beck song on the radio by singing along with “You’re everywhere and nowhere, baby, that’s where you’re at……….”? Course I will!
But hang on a minute…… I’ve just had a thought - where’s everywhere? How can anything, let alone a person, be everywhere? Is it all places……. except nowhere (or including nowhere)? And what about ITMON? Einstein gave us E=mc2; the Rambler has come up with E=E-N, (where E=everywhere, N=nowhere). Will it catch on? I doubt it but have a serious think about it!
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
C is for...
CHICKEN!
In January last year, I got a tummy ache. Quite innocent-sounding, you think? I did too. I had just had a meal with chicken in it, so immediately assumed it was a bit of food poisoning. I had food poisoning about five years ago and so I remembered what it felt like. I thought I just needed to ride it out. I spent the whole night squirming around in bed, feeling awful.
The next day I thought it wasn't too bad. I still had a tummy ache but, using my usual theory of illnesses, (if you ignore it, it'll probably go away) I went to work and just ignored my stomach ache all day. When I got home, though, it was no longer something that could be ignored. Thankfully I had the next day off and planned to just sit around, waiting for it to go away. But it got worse and worse.
After another sleepless night, I couldn't deny the need to see a doctor anymore. I went to an NHS walk-in centre and was prodded and examined and the doctor said it could be something quite mild, stomach cramps maybe. If it's not that though, it's something REALLY BAD and I needed to get to A&E. She gave me something to deal with stomach cramps and said if they didn't go after two doses, I needed to get to hospital. I smiled confidently, it would be fine. It was just some chicken I had eaten. Of course it couldn't be anything major. Chicken can't kill you.
The two doses were taken and, as much as I tried denying it, the stomach pains didn't go away. O no. By about 3am on Saturday, I actually couldn't get around the fact that I probably needed to go to A&E.
I arrived and was examined again by a doctor with a worried face then given some liquid paracetamol. I felt a bit silly actually, knowing that it was just some chicken. I just needed to wait until I vomited or something, then it would be out. What's all the fuss? I thought, with embarrassment.
Then a lot of things happened at once, I was taken for an x-ray (surely chicken doesn't show up on x-rays... does it?), lots of needles with things in were attached to my wrists and then, the worst thing ever. A doctor, thankfully really friendly and understanding, but ultimately, the destroyer of my life, arrived with a tube thingy and said these words...
"I just need to put this tube in your nose and into your stomach to make sure it's empty before we operate."
And I thought, 'IT'S JUST SOME CHICKEN!! HONEST! I CAN SOLVE THE MYSTERY NOW! JUST DON'T DO IT!'
He saw my terrified face and asked if I'd had it done before. I hadn't but I didn't need to have. I knew it was going to be the worst thing I'd ever experienced. It felt like he wanted something from me, a piece of important information about a terrorist attack or he'd torture me. I would have given up ANYTHING then, anything he'd wanted! I would have admitted things I'd never done, a murder, a theft, anything! Just don't put that tube up my nose!
"When you feel the tube scratching the back of your throat, just have a drink of water and it will make the tube go to your stomach easier. It's not that bad, honest," he reassured me. Then he approached, with the torture implement in his hands and put it in my nose... and just kept pushing it. AWFUL! THE MOST AWFUL THING I'VE EVER HAD DONE IN MY LIFE! As instructed, I grabbed some water when I felt it in my throat but I was sobbing and feeling traumatised so instead of swallowing the water, I was just tipping the glass up against my face, crying like a baby and soaking the front of the lovely pink hospital night gown I was wearing. Awful.
Then they wheeled me to a new room, said I was next in the operating theatre, it was an emergency and I might wake up with a colostomy bag! I was a bit out of it, so I know they talked me through it properly but I was so distracted by the nose tube I couldn't concentrate. I remember as they were putting me under the anaesthetic, I was still thinking, with embarrassment, about how they'd find a little peice of chicken and realise it was a lot of fuss for nothing.
In the end, I woke up WITHOUT a colostomy bag but WITH a ten inch scar down my front full of massive staples, was told it was something really rare called a transverse colon volvulus (where your colon twists around on itself - mental!) and written up in a medical journal.
And no, it was nothing to do with the chicken I ate.
In January last year, I got a tummy ache. Quite innocent-sounding, you think? I did too. I had just had a meal with chicken in it, so immediately assumed it was a bit of food poisoning. I had food poisoning about five years ago and so I remembered what it felt like. I thought I just needed to ride it out. I spent the whole night squirming around in bed, feeling awful.
The next day I thought it wasn't too bad. I still had a tummy ache but, using my usual theory of illnesses, (if you ignore it, it'll probably go away) I went to work and just ignored my stomach ache all day. When I got home, though, it was no longer something that could be ignored. Thankfully I had the next day off and planned to just sit around, waiting for it to go away. But it got worse and worse.
After another sleepless night, I couldn't deny the need to see a doctor anymore. I went to an NHS walk-in centre and was prodded and examined and the doctor said it could be something quite mild, stomach cramps maybe. If it's not that though, it's something REALLY BAD and I needed to get to A&E. She gave me something to deal with stomach cramps and said if they didn't go after two doses, I needed to get to hospital. I smiled confidently, it would be fine. It was just some chicken I had eaten. Of course it couldn't be anything major. Chicken can't kill you.
The two doses were taken and, as much as I tried denying it, the stomach pains didn't go away. O no. By about 3am on Saturday, I actually couldn't get around the fact that I probably needed to go to A&E.
I arrived and was examined again by a doctor with a worried face then given some liquid paracetamol. I felt a bit silly actually, knowing that it was just some chicken. I just needed to wait until I vomited or something, then it would be out. What's all the fuss? I thought, with embarrassment.
Then a lot of things happened at once, I was taken for an x-ray (surely chicken doesn't show up on x-rays... does it?), lots of needles with things in were attached to my wrists and then, the worst thing ever. A doctor, thankfully really friendly and understanding, but ultimately, the destroyer of my life, arrived with a tube thingy and said these words...
"I just need to put this tube in your nose and into your stomach to make sure it's empty before we operate."
And I thought, 'IT'S JUST SOME CHICKEN!! HONEST! I CAN SOLVE THE MYSTERY NOW! JUST DON'T DO IT!'
He saw my terrified face and asked if I'd had it done before. I hadn't but I didn't need to have. I knew it was going to be the worst thing I'd ever experienced. It felt like he wanted something from me, a piece of important information about a terrorist attack or he'd torture me. I would have given up ANYTHING then, anything he'd wanted! I would have admitted things I'd never done, a murder, a theft, anything! Just don't put that tube up my nose!
"When you feel the tube scratching the back of your throat, just have a drink of water and it will make the tube go to your stomach easier. It's not that bad, honest," he reassured me. Then he approached, with the torture implement in his hands and put it in my nose... and just kept pushing it. AWFUL! THE MOST AWFUL THING I'VE EVER HAD DONE IN MY LIFE! As instructed, I grabbed some water when I felt it in my throat but I was sobbing and feeling traumatised so instead of swallowing the water, I was just tipping the glass up against my face, crying like a baby and soaking the front of the lovely pink hospital night gown I was wearing. Awful.
Then they wheeled me to a new room, said I was next in the operating theatre, it was an emergency and I might wake up with a colostomy bag! I was a bit out of it, so I know they talked me through it properly but I was so distracted by the nose tube I couldn't concentrate. I remember as they were putting me under the anaesthetic, I was still thinking, with embarrassment, about how they'd find a little peice of chicken and realise it was a lot of fuss for nothing.
In the end, I woke up WITHOUT a colostomy bag but WITH a ten inch scar down my front full of massive staples, was told it was something really rare called a transverse colon volvulus (where your colon twists around on itself - mental!) and written up in a medical journal.
And no, it was nothing to do with the chicken I ate.
Monday, 9 April 2012
B is for....
BABIES!
Actually, it's less about babies and more about how irritating it is when people tell me I'll want them.
"Just you wait. You say that now, but just you wait. You'll turn 30 and you'll feel different. You'll see. You will."
I'm sorry? Do you know me? Do I know you? No. I just met you at friend's house, or on a bus, or I'm in your taxi, or I'm serving you a coffee. And I don't want, and will never want, my own babies. Ever. Playing with other people's is great but that's all I need. I don't need one in my own home, screaming and running and breaking stuff. I just don't. And they tell you, as though they are all knowledgeable and you are a naive child with little life experience. Well I'm almost 27, which isn't old, as such, but its not 17, is it? I know my own mind well enough by now.
The same happens on exercise DVDs. The man lifting the weights or doing the stretches tells you, 'Stretch! That feels good!' Erm, it doesn't actually. I'm red and sweating and puffy and on the verge on a heart attack and I really want to sit down and get my breathe back. Don't you tell me it feels good! It bloody doesn't!
Actually, it's less about babies and more about how irritating it is when people tell me I'll want them.
"Just you wait. You say that now, but just you wait. You'll turn 30 and you'll feel different. You'll see. You will."
I'm sorry? Do you know me? Do I know you? No. I just met you at friend's house, or on a bus, or I'm in your taxi, or I'm serving you a coffee. And I don't want, and will never want, my own babies. Ever. Playing with other people's is great but that's all I need. I don't need one in my own home, screaming and running and breaking stuff. I just don't. And they tell you, as though they are all knowledgeable and you are a naive child with little life experience. Well I'm almost 27, which isn't old, as such, but its not 17, is it? I know my own mind well enough by now.
The same happens on exercise DVDs. The man lifting the weights or doing the stretches tells you, 'Stretch! That feels good!' Erm, it doesn't actually. I'm red and sweating and puffy and on the verge on a heart attack and I really want to sit down and get my breathe back. Don't you tell me it feels good! It bloody doesn't!
Sunday, 8 April 2012
A is for....
I've decided to take on a bit of a theme for the next few (26 to be exact) posts. I was reading about something yesterday called 'Blogging from A to Z' (http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/) which runs for the month of April. You post every day from the 1st, missing out Sundays and ending up with the last post on April 30th. You start at A and do a letter for each post. As I hate to miss a day and it's clearly not April 1st anymore, I'm starting today and going to do it every day. So maybe I've missed the boat and everyone else is up to H or something. O well. Here goes!
A is for... AVIATION
Does anyone else fly in their dreams? I do. All the time. In fact, when I enter dream world, it's just an ordinary state for me. I don't even marvel at my ability anymore. I just take off and go.
Actually,. it hasn't always been like that. When I was much younger, probably only 8 years old, I had these dreams where I could fly around the house, at ceiling level downstairs. But when I stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried fly uphill, I couldn't. I had something called 'Peter Pan dust' in my dream and I would take a sprinkle and throw it over myself, loads and loads of it, but I just couldn't fly up the stairs. Frustrating.
As I grew up, the dreams changed. I could fly if I took a run-up. One time I was in a building with pews, but it was more like a school than a church. And I was running down the middle and trying to get away by flying, but a big crowd was running after me and kept grabbing my feet and pulling me back to the ground before I could get away.
Then there were lots of dreams in which I was just flying places as a mode of transportation, instead of walking. Then in a more recent one, I was teaching people to fly. I was standing still in a room, surrounded by teenagers, talking them through it, then just taking off from standing still, no run up needed anymore. So I must be getting pretty good at it. If my dreams are anything to go by, flying is amazing. Do you think technology will move fast enough for me to be able fly anytime soon?
I saw a programme the other day which had a bird's eye view of New York because they'd strapped a little camera onto a bird. I was so jealous.
A is for... AVIATION
Does anyone else fly in their dreams? I do. All the time. In fact, when I enter dream world, it's just an ordinary state for me. I don't even marvel at my ability anymore. I just take off and go.
Actually,. it hasn't always been like that. When I was much younger, probably only 8 years old, I had these dreams where I could fly around the house, at ceiling level downstairs. But when I stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried fly uphill, I couldn't. I had something called 'Peter Pan dust' in my dream and I would take a sprinkle and throw it over myself, loads and loads of it, but I just couldn't fly up the stairs. Frustrating.
As I grew up, the dreams changed. I could fly if I took a run-up. One time I was in a building with pews, but it was more like a school than a church. And I was running down the middle and trying to get away by flying, but a big crowd was running after me and kept grabbing my feet and pulling me back to the ground before I could get away.
Then there were lots of dreams in which I was just flying places as a mode of transportation, instead of walking. Then in a more recent one, I was teaching people to fly. I was standing still in a room, surrounded by teenagers, talking them through it, then just taking off from standing still, no run up needed anymore. So I must be getting pretty good at it. If my dreams are anything to go by, flying is amazing. Do you think technology will move fast enough for me to be able fly anytime soon?
I saw a programme the other day which had a bird's eye view of New York because they'd strapped a little camera onto a bird. I was so jealous.
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