Back with a vest on!

Well hello there.  It’s been a while, I know.  A lot has happened since I last dragged my arthritic hip to this site.  Some of it hilarious and interesting (none of which I can remember) and some of it pretty tough.  Dad had a massive stroke which has left him with a severe loss of mobility and has pretty much changed all our lives.  And when something like that happens, everything else kind of takes a back seat.  He had a bumpy ride too – a victim of a failing hospital and obvious cuts in the NHS resulted in less than satisfactory care.  But with a lot of love and support from us lot, and all credit to the amazing doctors and nurses battling against the odds, he’s made great progress.  He gets a little confused with time and process but on the whole, he’s doing well.  So while quite a lot has changed for him, I’m sorry to have to tell you that, despite a huge bump on the head, he is still a Spurs supporter.

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CELEBRATING DAD’S 80TH BIRTHDAY AT DUXFORD AIRFIELD

But let’s keep this light-hearted.  I’ve missed writing.  I’ve missed ranting and moaning. And I’ve missed you lot.  All 3 of you!  So it’s time to relaunch this little indulgence of mine with a few more bells and whistles.  I’ve migrated to WordPress!  Get me!  I don’t even know what that means! Plus there’ll be Instagram and most probably Facebook and Twitter too in the future.  And new for 2017, mixed in with my musings, will be some reviews of wherever my fight against ageing, my quest for retirement and my pursuit of happiness takes me. Basically it’s an excuse to go and have facials and massages and eat in poncy restaurants.  I’ve even joined Slimming World.  That’s a whole new post in itself which I’ll save for another day.

But Spring is in the air.  I’ve joined the gym (again) ahead of the hip operation (end of April) in the hope of getting into some sort of decent shape before my leg is severed!  On the plus side, I suppose the crutches will do wonders for my bingo wings.  The plan being that by the time summer is in full swing, I’ll be fit, healthy and looking fab-u-lous in those daisy dukes and skimpy vests.  The reality is, is that I probably won’t be chucking my Primark cover-ups out any time soon.

Start diet today

CAN I JUST POINT OUT THAT THESE ARE CATEGORICALLY NOT MY FEET!

So with renewed vigour and a spring in my limp, I shall be back again soon with my first review of having my haircut at an extortionately expensive Shoreditch hair salon followed by a luxurious facial that promises a fusion of plants and diamonds to stimulates cell renewal and prolong the youth of the skin with a new lease of life.  And after that  I shall probably just about be able to afford a Tesco meal deal!

x

Sod this healthy eating lark …..

Today was the first day of my health kick. Again. No really, it was. I’d planned it well. I’d emptied Holland & Barrett’s shelves of various lotions and potions. I got the book. And I dusted off the Gillian McKeith Superjuicer. Got a fridge full of fruit, veg and live yogurt and there was nothing to stop me.

In theory, it should have all been very straightforward. It’s just a change of routine. It can’t be that difficult. But it was. And it went something like this.

6.30am. Dark. Got up. Went to loo. Tripped over cat. Made hot water with lemon. Let cat out. Let cat in. Let cat out. Drunk lemon water. Was I meant to put sugar in it? Probably not. Start assembling juicer. It’s been a while. Seems bits are missing. Never mind. I’ll make do. Start chopping fruit and veg. Let cat in. Let cat out. Throw everything in juicer. Press button. Odd whirring sound and smell of burning. Turn everything off. Step away.

7.00am. Drink 2 glasses of water. Start Tibetan 5 Rites. Book says they are “A set of exercises that are meant to promote increased energy, stress reduction, and an enhanced sense of calm, clarity of thought, increased strength and flexibility, and an overall improvement in health and well-being”. Just difficult whilst holding a book. Apparently these exercises will also wake up my entire endochrine system. But probably won’t fix the juicer. Rite 1 involves spinning round very fast until you feel dizzy. It’s a stress buster. Allegedly. A top tip if you try this. Move the table out of the way. And anything else that your flailing arms might knock over. I have a bruise on my shin and I smashed a plant. I am not calm now.

7.10am. Exercises 2-5 are fairly manageable. Assuming you don’t have back problems. Which I do. Still, I’ve done them and hopefully I shall soon have clarity of though and endochrines that are cock-a-hoop by. Let cat in. Kick the juicer. It springs into life. 2 minutes later, my liver flushing, toxin-eliminating, cocktail is done. I tip the brownish liquid into a glass and drink. Funny, I didn’t gag half as much as I thought I would.

7.15am. Throw all the peelings into a pot of boiling water to make a potassium-rich soup. Rest of household wake to the smell of hot rotting veg and threaten to leave home. Leave to simmer. (The veg, not family members). Drink another glass of water. Wonder where cat is.

7.20am. Up to the bathroom for a spot of body brushing before showering. This will remove dead cells, toxins and improve lymphatic drainage. It will also leave you looking like you have had a rub down with a brillo pad. So, red raw and bleeding, I have a cold shower. Followed by a hot shower. And finish with a cold shower. Well I’m meant to. But it’s too cold. So I finish with a hot one. I now look like a freshly boiled lobster.

7.30am. Have a wee. Check colour. It’s meant to look like straw. Make a note to self to go and buy some straw by way of comparison.

7.40am. With a soft dressing gown covering my wounded body, I head back down to the kitchen to strain the rotting veg into a flask to take to work. Try to dismantle the juicer but it seems to be wedged together where I thumped it. Make rest of lunchbox. Box? I need a picnic hamper! Lunch consists of seeds, nuts, oatcakes, cottage cheese, salad and chicken. Stare longingly at cat food.

7.50am. Spend 10 minutes trying to find something to wear that’s made of cotton wool. Fail. Start hair and make up. I am now late.

8.00am. Scrape tongue with a teaspoon. And probably won’t ever again.

8.10am. Time to leave the house. I’m wearing odd socks. The cat has left home. I’ve got wet hair and have only managed to put mascara on one eye. “World Renowned Fucking Holistic Nutritionist” Gillian McKeith’s fucking juicer is in 29 different pieces on the floor. The Liver Flushing elixir has given me terrible wind and I think I’ve fractured a shin.

8.30am. Greggs.