In loving memory

This week I received the call informing me that my Grandad had passed away, after a long illness. I'm told that, contrary to the last, he died on the stroke of midnight, leading to confusion over which date should go on the certificate.

He was......well, I suppose he was a pretty ordinary man really. The history books won't be writing about him. He was, however, everything you could possibly want from a grandfather, and I adored him.

He kept bees on his allotment, and let me turn the handle on the big spinning drum thing he used to get the honey out of the combs. He held back the world's most vicious cat so that I could put food in her bowl without losing an arm. He fixed up a bike from a car-boot sale for me and timed races, always encouraging me to go faster, because why shouldn't I do anything the boys did and beat them at it? He taught me to patch a punctured tyre. He opened the cupboard in the room I slept in at their house, to prove there wasn't a monster living in there.

Once I reached adulthood, he was always the one who told me to take no notice when people were getting at me. He was the reason I stuck out my degree studies when they felt like more than I could handle, because he wanted so badly to put up my graduation photo with the others, and disappointing him was somehow worse than disappointing everybody else. He was the first person in my recollection to ever tell me they were proud of me.

He was a man who worked hard all his life to care for his family, and to give them the opportunities he didn't have, and he meant so much to all of us. I'm going to miss him - probably even more than I realise right now, when it hasn't fully sunk in yet - but I'm glad he's not in pain any more. He deserves a rest.

Rest in peace, Grandad. I love you.

Happy Birthday to me

Being woken on my birthday by a 7am call from my brother = bad.
Being woken on my birthday by a 7am call from my brother, so my 3 year old nieces can sing Happy Birthday to me down the phone = totally worth waking up for!

Washing Machine Repair for Dummies with Back Injuries

Chapter one - things to remember

• Righty tighty, lefty loosey.
• Your back is injured.

Chapter two - shit not to do

• The Internet will suggest pulling out and tipping the machine. Do not attempt this.
• Do not pull the cap off the drainage hose with your teeth.
• Do not underestimate the volume of water the machine contains or the stagnant rankness of it when you subsequently get a mouthful.
• Do not overestimate a) the capacity of a dish or b) the absorbency of a towel.
• Do not ever leave a draining washing machine unattended (see above).
• Do not assume the cat will not attempt to drink filthy filter water even though her water bowl is mere inches away.

Chapter three - things you will find in the filter

• Fluff
• Playa dust
• Diamantes
• Lollipop stick
• Glowstick connectors
• Donkey finger puppet

Chapter four - post-draining

• Return clean filter to position (with difficulty).
• Switch on machine.
• Discover machine still doesn't work.
• Cry.
• Desert feminism and wish you had a boyfriend or butch girlfriend to fix this for you.
• Give up and pour a gin.

*UPDATE*

Chapter five - twenty minutes later

• Return to machine and press 'on' again in the vain hope that it will have miraculously fixed itself.
• Discover miracles really do happen!
• Pour another gin.

Cushioning the blow

I'm hoping to be back at work next week. I'm going crazy sitting around on my own all day, so I'm determined to return to normal life, rather than having my sick note extended. Unfortunately I'm still in rather a lot of pain so, to ease the transition back to sitting on a broken bone for eight hours straight, I have purchased a coccyx cushion. This is basically just a big, square pad with a hole cut out of the back where your tailbone goes. Sadly, it bears an unfortunate resemblance (i.e. is identical) to a pile cushion. I'm feeling a vague urge to embroider 'I do not have haemorrhoids' on it. If only I knew how to embroider.

Things that make me smile no.91

The broken coccyx is a big cloud at the moment, but the silver lining is how my friends have rallied round me while I've been out of action. I've had calls, emails and texts every day to check up on me or to offer assistance, and a surprising number of people have come over to keep me company. It's touching to know I have such a great support network.

I'm still here

I haven't disappeared again, I promise. It's just that I've been signed off work for a while with this whole broken coccyx thing, so I'm stuck at home all day. Nothing happens here, so I have nothing to write about. Although, I did get a fabulous delivery today. The Chameleon sent it to cheer me up.

 Good huh?

Actually, while we're on the topic of deliveries, my grocery shop came today. I ordered six loose yoghurts because they were on offer. One of them was unavailable, so they gave me a six-pack which contained that flavour.....plus the five loose yoghurts I originally ordered. Why not just replace the unavailable flavour with another flavour? Now I have eleven yoghurts. Nobody can eat that much yoghurt!!!!!

Oh, I really need to get back out into the world. I'm clearly going stir crazy if I'm utilising multiple exclamation marks just to bemoan a yoghurt glut.

Really?

Inappropriate Pharmacist: That's a lot of painkillers. What have you done to yourself?
Me: I fractured my coccyx.
Inappropriate Pharmacist: Ouch! Well [winks], if that little lot doesn't sort it out, come back and we'll kiss it better.

To labour the point

Today I travelled into work on the tube, as usual. Less usually, I was perched bolt upright in my seat, trying to protect my fractured coccyx, and occasionally letting out an involuntary whimper or yelp as I was jolted by the movement of the train. After a couple of stops the woman opposite me leaned across the aisle, put her hand on my knee and said the only thing which could have made me more miserable at that moment in time........."Are you OK? Are you in labour?".

A Taxing Problem

If my broken tailbone and codeine intake allow, I may be making a (probably brief and definitely sober) appearance at a Guilty Pleasures themed party this weekend. Initially I struggled to come up with an outfit, standing as I do by the majority of my dodgy tastes, but then I recollected my taxidermy and fur obsession, which I certainly ought to feel moderately ashamed of, even if I don't to any great degree. In deference to my fellow guests, many of whom are veggie hippy types, and my hostess, an ex-museum curator who is far too knowledgeable regarding the little insect stowaways likely to be residing in my deceased friends to fully enjoy them, I decided to make a vegetarian taxidermy get-up involving faux fur and cuddly toys. Ironically though, it has emerged that, while I am hard-hearted enough to fill my house with dead beasties, I can't quite bring myself to take a pair of scissors to a defenceless toy moose. Poor little fella. I wonder what he'd like for his final meal.

Remember me?

Well, I'm back, hopefully. I'm making no promises of staying, but I'm poking my head around the door and waving tentatively at you. It's a start, no?

To update you, I've had a tricky few months of feeling very low, unworthy and insecure. It's a familiar experience, which in one way is rather sad, but at least means I have the advantage these days of recognising the feelings and seeing them for the illogical brain chemical lies that they are. That makes it a lot easier to cope when it feels like you're sinking.

Things were starting to look up a few weeks back, so I headed off to Nowhere with a pretty sunny outlook. It turned out that I was still more vulnerable than I had realised, and I had a few wobbly moments, but that's inevitable when you go into an environment where you take off all the masks and defences you wear in everyday life and allow people to see the real you, for better or worse.

The week was full of fun of all kinds; from the silliness of fighting off invading pirates, to the honour and pleasure of being asked to say a few words at my friend's wedding. I wouldn't have missed a second of it, wobbles and all!

Actually......I take that back. I would like to have missed the second in Barcelona when I decided it would be a good idea to slide down a giant dragon sculpture. Wheeeeeeeeee.........crunch! I am now in bed with what the doctor confirmed yesterday is a fractured coccyx. All I can do is dose myself with codeine and try to minimise the necessity for expeditions away from the bed by gathering books, food and big jugs of squash unto myself in bulk. Of course, I wouldn't have to do this if the cat would just make me a damn sandwich and bring it to me, but thus far she has steadfastly resisted all attempts to convince her to do so. Selfish little beast.