a problem un-shared is a problem un-halved

I’ve spent the evening compiling checklists for our holiday. I’m still panicking and feeling restless. How many times can I check that our holiday insurance is all right before I finally accept that it is?
I’ve looked up what the weather is expected to be like when we’re away, and it should be dry and mild, but I’m thinking of taking clothing for all weathers so we’re not caught out if the forecast turns out to be wrong. Is that me being sensible or me being over-cautious?
I’d probably feel a lot better if I had someone to share the pain with, but I don’t want to give Philippa any clues about where we’re going so I can’t talk to her about it. I’ve been so stressed today that I’ve been tempted to cave in and tell her, but that would blow the whole ‘secret destination’ thing out of the window, wouldn’t it?
So I shall suffer alone, and in silence.

RC 31-1-12

Obesity in Norfolk - A Study

The number of fat women coming in the shop today was frightening. One particular woman defied belief. I honestly don’t know how she managed to get out of bed. They must have brought her to the store in a horse and cart. She must have been 24 stone at least. We had to employ a one-way system in the aisles because there wasn’t room for anyone to get past her.
I walked behind her for a while thinking “How do you get to be so big?”
Then I looked in her trolley.
There were two loaves of bread and four pints of milk, and everything else was chocolate and biscuits.
You don’t have to be Poirot to work that one out, do you?

RC 30-1-12

Feathered friends

Forgot to tell you we went to a ‘Burns Night’ celebration at Philippa’s Sports Club last night. F*** knows what neeps and haggis are, but they came out of my arse like a greyhound in a Porsche this morning.

We did something called ‘The Big Bird Watch’ this afternoon.
Basically you sit down and look out of the window for an hour and write down how many different birds you see. All very pleasant, and it helps the RSPB keep track of bird populations in the UK.
It’s harder than you think. Trying to count how many sparrows are in the garden when they keep flying off and flying back again was making me feel quite dizzy. Mind you, that might have been the sherry…

It’s inspired me to do my own ‘Big Bird Watch’ at work this week. I’m gonna make a note of any woman who weighs more than 16 stone and see how obese the supermarket clientele are.

RC 29-1-12

Oh yes she was..

Amateur dramatics is a weird, weird thing.
We went to watch Hannah’s panto on Friday and it was a mixture of great enthusiasm, poorly-painted sets and terrible jokes. I have to say it was good fun, and it was very strange to see a character on stage who looked exactly like my sister but acted very differently. She was sweet, and charming, and very un-Hannah-like, which I suppose is the point when you’re an actor.
Nathan looked prouder than a father-of-the-bride and a first-time-father combined.
Philippa said “she was really, really good wasn’t she?“ and as much as it might pain me to say it, she was. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not going to challenge for the Oscars, but she was a damn sight better than I expected her to be.
And, both up on stage and chatting in the bar afterwards, she looked very, very happy.
Good for you, Hannah.

RC 29-1-12

The days are dripping by..

January and February used to be so boring. Mum never did much for my birthday, it was always dark, wet and horrible, and with Christmas over and a long wait til Spring there never used to be much going on.
This year though I’ve hardly got time to pause for breath.
We’re off to see Hannah in panto on Friday. I hope it’s good, or all those evenings I spent listening to her singing around the house will have been wasted, as well as unwanted.
Then it’s only a week until our holiday, which is terribly exciting but also terribly, terribly nerve-wracking. I haven’t told Philippa anything because I don’t want her to know anything, but that means that I’ve got to be on top of everything. So the preparation, planning and packing is all down to me, which I’m finding traumatic enough, but with Philippa’s surprise trip for my birthday being so, so good I feel like there’s added pressure on me to make the Valentine’s holiday equally as good (if not better) or I’ll feel like a failure.
Honestly, sometimes I look back with envy on life when I was single. It was certainly less hectic and anxious.

RC 25-1-12

My first blog as a 28-year-old

I am back at work, and absolutely exhausted.
What a weekend.
I had expected my birthday surprise to be a night at the pictures and a sexy stay at a dirty B+B, but man was I wrong.
Philippa had said it would be ‘secret and special‘. Was it secret? Yes - I genuinely didn’t have a clue what was coming; was it special? You bet your sweet ass.
We spent Friday and Saturday night at a hotel in London. And when I say a hotel, I mean A HOTEL. I moaned once about how much it must be costing, and how we could have put that money towards a deposit on a house, but Philippa just said “Shut up and enjoy it. It’s your birthday.”
We lazed in the pool, we both had a facial, and for the first time in my life I ate quail.
On Sunday we got the early train back, but got off in Cambridge, and who joined us for lunch by the river? SOPHIE AND TAMARA.
They’d planned it all at Christmas, the sneaky bitches. T’s parents live in Cambridge and they were away in December, so the girls wanted to have a belated festive weekend with them, and arranged it to coincide with my birthday.
Never have I felt so loved and appreciated.
Excuse me while I wipe away a tear.
　
RC 24-1-12

Birthday Eve

28 tomorrow, and I feel it. I tweaked my back a bit while stacking at work yesterday and it was so stiff this morning I could hardly get out of bed.
Am I really (nearly) this old?

Philippa got upset and angry about her ankle tonight. Apparently it’s my fault. Obviously me spending most of last week trying to persuade her to go to the doctors and offering to drive her there is what made it a bad injury…
It’s my birthday tomorrow. She promised me it would be wonderful, memorable. If she doesn’t cheer up a bit it’s gonna be a bloody horrible day.

RC 19-1-12

Catching up (in a catch-up style)

Philippa turned her ankle again. She went back to work at the end of last week and slipped as she walked out of the office. It proves again my old saying “ALL work is bad for you”
She had it checked by medics and she has something called a ‘high ankle sprain.’ She has to wear a very unattractive strapping on it, which she’s not bothered by, and she has to take a month off sport, which she really IS bothered by. She’s been snappier than a dry twig in Summer. It could be a long month.

TheLoveMachine had a good servicing and is now sounding less likely to explode. The VW specialist I took her to says ‘she’s a beautiful machine, man. Look after her and she’ll keep on going for years.” I hope so. If I have to pay two hundred quid for a service every year I’d better get some decent use out of her.

In two days time I’ll be 28.
Philippa is still keeping schtum about my birthday treat. I was hoping the anti-inflammatory drugs she’s on might loosen her tongue, but no joy. Any time I mention it she just says “If it wasn’t kept secret, it wouldn’t be special”
As poetry is the way I deal with most situations I present some BIRTHDAY BUILD-UP HAIKU:

Nearly twenty eight.
I guess I have to accept
I’m getting older

When I was fourteen
Puberty was my whole life
Now it’s just a word

Birthdays come and go
Your ‘number’ will change each year
But you’re still just you

Girlfriend with sore foot
Promises great memories
As she limps through life

‘Secret and special’
On Friday I discover
What my treat will be..

RC 18-1-12

Unknown, and unsupportive

Philippa has given me a clue as to my birthday surprise. She’s arranged with my work for me to have the whole weekend off. I said “So it’s not just something happening on the Friday night then?” She refused to answer so I said, quite honestly, “I don’t give a shit what it is now - having the weekend off will be present enough”

Her ankle is a bit better now. The swelling went down on Tuesday and the bruising cleared up a bit Wednesday. The way she was going on about it you’d think it was broken in 12 places. Bloody women. I helped her recovery by saying “If you will do these silly sports, you have to pay your dues. Lazy people on sofas don’t get ankle sprains”

RC 12-1-12

the next 12 months

I think my blog challenge for this year might be to post exactly the same number of entries each month. It’ll be a nice turnaround from the last two years (when I’ve tried to make each month have it’s own unique number of postings) Plus, if I can hit 18 entries a month, that’ll total 216 entries for the year, which will continue my ongoing record of writing more total blog entries in each subsequent year (200 exactly in 2011, by the way.) I think 18 entries a month is an achievable total, and it might stop me rambling on or putting little jokey entries in just because I think I have something worthwhile to say at that particular given moment. In months when I don’t feel like writing, it’ll be a challenge to aim for, and in months where I’ve got bloggage diarrhoea it’ll help to discipline me and keep me within an interesting limit.
Am I sounding insane yet?

RC 11-1-12

a little observation about nature

Is there anything more relaxing than watching a Robin feed on a bird table?

RC 10-1-12

blue ankle; blue mood; blue air

Philippa took the day off work. She could hardly walk this morning. Her ankle is swollen and a horrible purple colour and she’s yelping and cursing when she tries to stand up. I thought about calling in sick myself so I could look after her, but she’s in such a foul mood I decided I’d be better off at work. Awkward customers are a lot easier to deal with than my beloved when she’s in a bad mood.
If it still looks rough tomorrow I’ll take her to A+E and get an X-ray.

TheLoveMachine is rattling like a dustbin full of spanners on a turntable. I’m trying to tell myself it’s an old vehicle and it’s winter so it’s perfectly natural for her to struggle a bit, but I think I might have to bite the bullet and get her looked at. There’s a VW specialist about ten miles away but his fees are pretty high, and he looks too much like Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo Show for my liking. I’m worried he might get stoned and accidentally take out the engine.

RC 9-1-12

Sonday, snacks and swelling

We didn’t see Ted’s son on telly at the darts, but we did have a lot of fun looking out for him. The ‘arrows’ was of a high standard, Ted’s observational banter was as good as ever, and we even saw someone apparently coming out to his parents as the sign he held up from the crowd said “Mum.. Dad.. I’m gay!“ Even if it was one of his mates jokingly holding the sign up above his head, it was bloody funny to hear the commentator stumble and bumble and pretend he hadn’t seen it after it was broadcast live on national television. I imagine there’s a cameraman or director somewhere fighting to save their job at the moment.

Beryl brought out a ‘leftover platter’ for tea. She said she had ‘a few bits that needed finishing up’ after her many days of catering over Christmas and New Year. Those ‘few bits’ seemed to include at least half a herd of cattle in one form or another, and enough brandy-laced mince pies to put a rugby team over the drink-drive limit for a fortnight. She doesn’t hold back when she adds ‘a wee dram’ to a mince pie. It’s like eating a brewery wrapped in pastry.

Philippa twisted her ankle today, so she’s hobbling and grumpy. I’m alternating ice packs with a hot water bottle while telling her that maybe it’s time to cut back on sports now she’s getting old and fragile. She’s not reacting well. In all the time I’ve known Philippa, I think I’ve only heard her swear 12 times, and 11 of those were in the past half-hour….

RC 8-1-12

Arrows, Rings and Insults

I’m looking forward to a lazy day with Ted tomorrow. Philippa has some sporty thing that I’m not invited to, so Ted and I are going to play cards, eat cheese and watch the darts. Ted’s son Simon will be there with some workmates so we all have to watch it to see if we can spot him.
I like darts. It proves that even the fattest of men can achieve greatness in something other than girth.

Philippa has arranged something ‘special and secret’ for my birthday. I called her a torturing bitch for not giving me any clues and she said “now you know how I feel about our holiday” Touche..
I spoke to Sophie about it on the phone tonight. She thinks Philippa is going to take me out for a meal, and propose. I said if she does that I’ll stuff her face in her soup and then walk out, but you never know how you’ll react until a situation arises, so we’ll see.

My younger sister may be turning into Oscar Wilde. She was complaining about one of her co-stars in the pantomime, a guy she happened to have had a one-night stand with a few years ago. He thinks he’s a big-time actor and is swanning around trying to help direct some of the scenes apparently. Hannah described him as having “a brain like a sprout and a cock like a radish.”
Wonderful stuff.

RC 7-1-12

Torn

I’m seriously in turmoil.
Philippa cooked me an absolutely gorgeous meal tonight, and when I asked her where the recipe came from she told me ‘a Jamie Oliver cookbook.’
I hate him and everything he does, but this meal was gorgeous. What do I do now?
Do I refuse to ever eat it again? Do I make myself vomit? Do I ban Philippa from ever cooking for me ever, ever again?
If I eat it and enjoy I aren’t I as bad as those people who criticise China’s human rights record while wearing jeans that were made cheaply in China?
If I admit that I find his recipes tasty don’t I forfeit any right to complain about him in the future?
I’m not sure that’s a price I’m willing to pay.
It’s bad enough sitting here now, knowing that the results of his work are currently residing in my gut. Hopefully I’ll have violent diarrhoea tonight, so I can expel him from my body the way he should be expelled from our televisions.

RC 6-1-12

Decorations down; optimism up

Christmas was great, but it’s nice to get back to a bit of routine and normality (and, in my case, laziness) I’ve been working mornings this week, and Hannah has been out rehearsing, so Philippa and I have had a couple of lovely evenings together curled up on the sofa.
It’s only a month until our holiday. She still doesn’t know where we’re going, which I’m happy about. I’m so excited that I want to tell her just so I can see her reaction, but I’m going to save it until nearer the time, even if holding it in means I risk my intestines exploding with the strain.

What else can I update you on? Norfolk weather continues to be windy and wet. I’m so glad I have TheLoveMachine, because walking to the bus stop and waiting for a bus that has a 30% chance of never appearing must be pretty miserable.
There’s another sickness bug going round at work. Or maybe lots of people are pretending so they can have a few days off after the insanity of Christmas and New Year, who knows? Either way, we’re understaffed on the shop floor, so I’m glad I’m in management and have an office to hide in when things get really busy.

Nathan says his family were ‘really taken’ with Hannah over Christmas. If you’d told me 18 months ago that my sister would have changed to the point that a strictly religious family would accept her as a visitor I’d have laughed in your face and called you a tit-breath. Mind you, if you’d told me 18 months ago that I’d be maintaining sanity while working at a supermarket and enjoying cuddling up on the sofa with the girl of my dreams I’d have spat in your shoes and called you a shit-licker. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

RC 5-1-12

2012's first collection of haiku

Rain on the window
Reminds me that winter’s here
And makes me feel blue

Christmas time has gone
But the good feelings it caused
Will last a lifetime

Awful wet weather
Long dark nights and short cold days
Winter is a bitch

The Christmas cheese board…
seven different flavours..
..just one hour to eat

Work is unpleasant
But the money it makes me
Helps to ease the pain

RC 4-1-12

Happy New Year

What a fantastic time I’ve had.
I’m back at work now which is depressing, but necessary after the expense of Christmas. I did a 12-hour shift on the day before New Year’s Eve and I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like watching footage of Dunkirk, with shopping trolleys instead of boats, and evacuating soldiers being replaced by Special Offer ham joints. Old people love their bargains, don’t they? It was chaos with a capital “aaaaaaaaaa!!!”
But let me fill you in on Christmastime:

On Xmas Day, a nervous Hannah went off to spend the day with Nathan’s family, so Philippa and I had the morning alone. We swapped pressies, cooked our lovely Christmas brunch and fed each other sprouts like a loved-up pair of penguins. (I don’t know if penguins eat sprouts, but it’s a nice image) Then we all met up at Ted and Beryl’s in the evening. That all finished at 2am (I think it was 2am, I was so drunk it could have been April for all I know)
On Boxing Day, Nathan and Hannah joined us and we went for a walk on the beach. Some of Philippa’s nutty mates did a charity swim in the sea, so we cheered them on and put some money in the bucket. ‘The Dip’ is an annual event now, and Philippa says she and I should do it next year. I said I’d rather shove a mince pie down the end of my man-piece (I don‘t even like the sea in Summer, remember) but I said I‘ll agree to do it if Philippa agrees to have a nude wedding when we get married, so we‘ll see. We spent the evening with Philippa’s parents, which was nervy and awkward, but pleasant enough.
Sophie and Tamara arrived on the 27th and stayed til the 30th, and it was wonderful. We chatted lots, played lots of silly games, and drank lots of wine. It was magic.
My absolute Christmas highlight though, had to have been just before midnight on Christmas Eve. It was such a special occurrence that I would happily have forfeited everything else that happened over the festive period, as long as I could keep this one special moment.
We were having drinks in the bar at Philippa’s sports club, when a reminder alarm went off on her phone. She threw her arms round my neck and said “Rory - on Christmas Eve last year I was alone at home, thinking about you and wishing I could see you. Then the phone rang, and it was you, phoning to invite me out. Exactly a year ago this minute, you told me how much you liked me, and that was the start of our relationship. I wanted to remember and celebrate the anniversary, because it was the single greatest moment of my life” and she told me she loved me, and kissed me.
Best….. Kiss….. Ever…..

RC 3-1-12