MY LIFE IN IBIZA

Ibiza in the winter

2009-11-17T23:33:00.002+01:00

Lottie, mummy and Grandpa's doggie.

2009-11-16T17:49:00.008+01:00

Swine flu jabs

2009-09-16T10:13:00.003+02:00

I said I'd not post anything here unless I thought it important. This is important....

http://www.davidicke.com/content/view/26440

One thing is for sure....it's not a totally ludicrous conspiracy theory. David Icke can be a bit extreme but this article is full of facts stated by many. There are hundreds of similar articles out there. How accurate it is I don't know but one thing is for sure, neither Lottie nor I will be having the jab.

Please spread the word.

Ibiza Spotlight

2009-09-03T13:50:00.006+02:00

....or, a better alternative for expats who want to communicate with expats and not holiday makers...and who want to get the phone number of a mechanic and not the low down on what's happening at Eden...and who don't want to use a forum as an alternative to a social life...

try this instead.....

http://www.ibizaexpat.com/

Ibiza Babysitter

2009-09-02T13:04:00.001+02:00

Overnight babysitting service in Ibiza offered by me, a mother with plenty of babysitting experience.

75 Euros for sleepovers local to San Carlos....more further afield. That is half the price of other professional babysitters. My hours of arrival and departure are flexible, I can look after babies and children in the morning (so you can have a lie in) and I have my own car.

Tel: 618 900 128.

Ibiza babe

2009-09-01T01:21:00.004+02:00

p.s. no....I did not chuck a chair at Lottie! Lottie sometimes plays dead when tasks, like carrying chairs, get too difficult.

The snail trail came to a sticky end.

2009-08-14T00:28:00.006+02:00

I've been gone a long time

2009-08-04T18:25:00.007+02:00

My long break from blogging and the internet in general has been mostly due to a crashed laptop. Once crashed, I took my laptop into Mark and Dani's in Santa Eulalia who charged me €30 for the privilege of wiping all my data off (including all photos, mostly unsaved and unprinted) and loading a fake copy of Thai Microsoft onto it. A 'friend' then took it away saying he'd fix it and returned it with German Microsoft. That was pretty typical of this friend, who I will say no more about. I then waited three months for the correct HP recovery discs to arrive from the UK. You would not believe how hard it is for HP's organisational structure to pick up three discs, put them in an envelope and post them to someone who dares to live in a foreign country. How many people in their call centre in India I spoke to I do not know!

Anyway, whinge over. I've lost a lot of important things, which will now need to be recovered, but I did benefit from my break from cyberspace. I worked very hard on my shop just in time for the season to start and it's now rammed with stock, more organised and more profitable. I also made more things than I would otherwise have done and, to be honest, enjoyed my life more.

The worst thing is losing the photos. Because of that, I have realised that the best thing about having run this blog has been that it has meant I saved my photos online in a safe place. Unfortunately it will probably not be possible to print them off but at least I can look at them.

I now want to try to re-build my photo stock so Lottie has a photo album in later life. I've realised how important they are. I am also going to stop writing on my blog, unless I have something I desperately want to talk about, as I no longer want my life to be made public. Maybe one day I will write a book, auto-biographical or fiction, but for now at least Lottie and I will be just like everyone else. The blog was started in order for me to diarise my progress in setting up my shop and to get moral support from complete strangers at a time when I felt pretty lonely. I don't feel lonely anymore and I don't feel I need constant moral support; the pressure is off. I also feel I am not an exciting or interesting enough person to sustain a blog indefinitely.

From now on, My Life in Ibiza will really be My Life in Ibiza in Photos. This will encourage me to do what I feel is important: take more photos. I hope that's ok with you. Thank you to everyone who left supportive and encouraging comments; you helped me a lot.

Sheep Dogs

2009-05-20T00:34:00.004+02:00

In our Western world, or lush green field, most people are peaceful sheep, contentedly mulling about and never feeling the need to look over the shoulder. Fortunately there are a few sheep dogs with one eye on the sheep and one on the wolves. The sheep don't like the sheep dogs and bitch at them, sometimes snapping at their ankles and ganging up against them. They can't understand why they don't just chill out and enjoy the sunshine and grass. They hate the constant reminder the sheep dogs bring of impending danger from the wolves; they would rather live in denial, a give-away sign of a sheep. The sheep dogs also look or act a bit like the wolves, something the sheep find disturbing despite the fact no sheep was ever harmed by a sheep dog.

The sheep dogs just ignore them and carry on regardless knowing it's a tough job but someone's got to do it for these ungrateful but lovable lumps of fluff. Fortunately, they're not aiming to be popular.

The sheep dogs don't expect or want the sheep to become as them. That would mean the sheep dogs' job had become pointless; what's the point in defending a nice herd if all or most of the herd has become defensive and potentially hostile? A field full of sheep dogs and no sheep would be a meaningless place with nothing good to defend; a field full of sheep and no sheep dogs would be a perilous place doomed to destruction. The sheep dogs simply want the sheep to realise the threat posed by the wolves and accept the need for the sheep dogs.....and vote for them on voting days and not for fellow sheep.

A signal to the solution

2009-05-18T16:53:00.007+02:00

My air conditioning units have not worked since the end of last summer. I'd tried replacing the remote control batteries, but to no avail. I initially thought it would be an easy problem to fix, seeing as both units, plus the exterior fan, were all very new.

However, when my phone line went, and the engineer informed me that mice had squeezed up my electrical tubes and eaten through my cable, I had a long hard look at the hole on my outside wall where the air con tubes went in. Unfortunately I had never gotten around to plastering the wall closed around the tubed. Lots of tubes from the fan went into my wall, under my tiled floor, up an interior wall and down an interior wall. Visions of electrically fueled mice parties riddling my shop ensued.

For several months, I have envisioned my walls hacked out and my floor tiles up-lifted in a mad hunt for the party-goers, and my hands holding a horrendous bill. I've also pictured the other option of not getting it fixed: me having heat stroke in my sun filled shop and no customers from anywhere but sub-Saharan Africa to dare step into the oven.

Then, today, there was a blessing in disguise. A council worker arrived at my shop door with my giant arrow sign I'd only recently set into cement outside Bar Anita. The government is removing all private signage and replacing it with the bare minimum municipal signage. Oh great! Just what us small retailers and bars needed to hear. Is Ibiza really the place for standardisation and monotony? Has a tourist ever complaigned about the individuality and creativity of island signage? All that work for nothing and now stuck with a giant sign with nowhere for it to go. I dismantled my sign and lent it against my outside wall, under my air conditioning fan.

My annoyance was swiftly replaced by jubilation when my eye caught what my arrow was now pointing at: the fuse box dedicated to my fan unit. It was the first time I'd noticed it. I dragged a chair out, stood on it and read 'OFF'.

So, in my mind, I am now several thousands of Euros richer, albeit with a gigantic arrow sign pointing to nowhere. I will, no doubt, find an unsuspecting tree and put it to good use.

Boobies

2009-05-07T17:49:00.011+02:00

Lottie still loves my boobies. If she's upset and tired, she'll still sometimes want to snuggle up to them as though they are still her source of comfort. Poor kid having a mother with such tiny boobs!

When I think about breast feeding, I get a hideously painful sensation on my breast, very close to the nipple, a bit like a love bite but much worse. Lottie often missed the spot! Sometimes I picture myself gazing down on my beautiful suckling bubba to see blood all over her face after feeling needles being drawn out of me. I did love doing it and missed it a lot when I stopped but the painful memories are the most accutely remembered....ouch!

I breast fed for seven months and only stopped because there was almost nothing left of me. I went down to eight stone, which is pretty low for someone five foot seven inches tall. I went from being a big mama with lead-weight Zeppelin bosoms (which on day one were like fully automatic water pistols firing indiscriminately around the hospital bathroom like leaking high pressure water pipes) to a flat chested waif in seven months.

I'm writing this because of the new mother who threw herself off the New York building recently, due to not being able to breast feed. I remember in hospital feeling very frustrated while trying to express my colostrum and feed Lottie. It took a long time to get it right but, I remember, it was a case of mind over matter; I had to really force out the negative speak, 'You're not going to make it. You're not going to be able to breast feed. You're rubbish. You're baby is going to suffer while others flourish.'

Apparently the US had recently aired a TV advertising campaign trying to get women to breast feed. The advert suggested that women who do not breast feed are akin to women getting on a bucking bronko while pregnant, as though they are choosing to harm their babies. Maybe a better tact would be to say it's only rarely not possible to breast feed as it's perfectly natural, with the main message being, 'Don't worry....you can do it.' Positive reinforcement rather than negative deterant.

The negative speak is due to the massive amount of pressure on women and the negative attention paid to those who cannot breast feed as opposed to those who choose not to....there is no differentiation in the opposition. If nothing was ever said about it, I'm sure women would have it in their heads that they WILL be able to breast feed. 'This is difficult but I will be able to do it. This is normal. This is natural. I am just doing what all other mothers do. It's not easy but I will make it.'

Maybe this woman had so much pressure on her before even trying that not being able to breast feed became a self fulfilling prophecy. Whoever invented powdered milk has a lot to answer for!

I can't wait to breast feed again, just with a less ferocious eater. Ouch!

Flu shots

2009-05-03T22:33:00.002+02:00

Interesting videos on flu shots, what they contain and whether or not they are effective. Always good to see both sides of the story!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=az5aAwr4ugE&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCBlxqmOMKM&feature=related

Botox

2009-04-30T22:20:00.007+02:00

Botox is the cosmetic name for Botulinum toxin , one of the most lethal naturally occurring substances known to man and the bacteria that causes Botulism, the potentially fatal paralysis illness. Only one micro gram is needed to kill a human. It causes flaccidity of muscles; it stops muscles from working. Botox injections are the most common cosmetic operation.

In September 2005, a paper published in the Journal of American Academy of Dermatology reported from the FDA saying that use of Botox has resulted in 28 deaths between 1989 and 2003, though none were attributed to cosmetic use.[24]

On February 8, 2008, the FDA announced that Botox has "been linked in some cases to adverse reactions, including respiratory failure and death, following treatment of a variety of conditions using a wide range of doses," due to its ability to spread to areas distant to the site of the injection.[25]

In January 2009, the Canadian government warned that botox can have the adverse effect of spreading to other parts of the body which could cause muscle weakness, swallowing difficulties, pneumonia, speech disorders and breathing problems.[26][27]

Several cases of death have been linked to the use of fake Botox.[28]

It is now possible to buy DIY Botox kits on the internet. This sounds seriously dangerous to me as the kit could be bought by someone with ulterior motives.

I have never had Botox, although I am tempted given my new frown lines. However, I have faith that all I need is a roof on my car and my forehead and crow's feet will smooth out a bit. Even if Botox injections do not do any long term biological harm (no-one knows what the long term effects might be on the millions of women who have been using it), one thing is for sure; Botox will stop your facial muscles working.

I've always believed that to keep a youthful face, you need to keep your facial muscles working. If you never smiled, laughed or expressed yourself to the point of stretching your muscles, surely they would just sag and shrink. Facial muscles are like all other muscles; if you stop using the, they disappear. Isn't it better to have lines than sagging muscles? If Botox is one day deemed unsafe, and millions of women suddenly stop using it, will we start to see women with horribly sunken and lined faces?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botulinum_toxin

Treats!

2009-04-29T16:53:00.002+02:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UA5MtAmT24g

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeG-hNXXy6I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbBn4_yHcpI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTJ1hRaElyE

A good benchmark

2009-04-28T22:43:00.002+02:00

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Thanks DD for reminding me of this :)

Panick attacks

2009-04-26T22:33:00.013+02:00

I never really knew what a panick attack was until recently when I read an article on them and realised I'd had one shortly after becoming single.

I'd gone round to a girl friend's house for a chat and had stayed the night in her spare room. I remember lying in bed and suddenly having the most horrendous feeling of losing control and losing my mind. Loads of awful thoughts rushed through my mind, mostly that I was a terrible person, that I was crazy, that I was doomed, that I would lose Lottie....

It was like being run over by a train of terrible thoughts and it went on continuously for hours. I got no sleep that night and got up not knowing if there was something permanently wrong with me or not. It scared me and made me become even more worried about my ability to cope as a single mother.

I'd been through the worst time of my life and, for two years, felt frustrated, angry, let down, isolated, hurt.... My head had been completely messed with and I had two years of terrible thoughts backed up in my mind and, on that night, it all flooded out. That, in a nutshell, is a panick attack; a release of pent up emotions and worries. It's the mind's version of throwing up....an involuntary release of toxic waste. The word 'panick' is very misleading as panick does not come into it. 'Mental bulldozer attack' would be better.

I'm pleased to finally know what it had been, although the effects didn't last long. It was a terrifying thought that I could be losing my mind in an instant, but apparently panick attacks are not signs of this at all; they are a sign that you've suffered a lot of trauma or stress.

I now also know that the best way to avoid having panick attacks in the future is to avoid traumas or, if you cannot avoid them, make sure you have a healthy way to release tension....exercise, yoga, being with friends, talking to people about your problems, ext....

One of the risks with panick attacks is that the stress of the fear of them, as they are not things you would wish on your worst enemy, can make you more likely to have them; the stress, once built up, could trigger an attack. Fortunately, I think I must have toughened up since then as little things, like global financial crises, don't overly concern me. I think my limits must have been stretched.

Considering they are so common, they are very misunderstood. If I didn't know what they were, despite being well read on psychology and having experienced one myself, surely most people are in the dark. Hopefully now a few more people will understand what they are and will treat those who experience them as they would treat everyone else. After all, anyone can have one...apart from those who are untouched by life.

Diligence

2009-04-26T00:00:00.011+02:00

Diligence is something Gordon Brown lacked just before killing his laser printer in a fit of rage. Keeping cool, when office equipment refuses to behave, cannot be easy when you know you are about to be sacked.

That box I said I'd do a few days ago, in my 'do something a day' post, took two days in the end. I made the rectangular frame out of thin strips of wood on my shop step. My audience of café coffee sippers and smiling faces through windows watched me as I measured, sawed, sanded, glued and nailed my two long bits and two short bits, and swung the thing onto my shoulder and into the darkness of my shop.

'Shit!' 'Bugger!' Too long by 2cm to fit neatly onto the top of my desk. I'd not taken into account the thickness of the wooden ends. Back on the shoulder, dismantled at one end, sawn to fit, re-assembled, swung back onto shoulder and all watched again by the smirking coffee sippers and faces through windows.

My point? Instead of smashing the thing to bits, throwing myself onto my bed and crying my eyes out swearing never to brag about how I was 'going to make a box today', I kept my cool, accepted my fault, swallowed my pride and rectified the situation.

This has been a gradually learnt skill for me and one I feel, now mastered, has improved my life immeasurably. In the past, I may have been tempted to stamp on my rectangle of wood, kick it into the table of coffee sippers or ceremonially set fire to it.....or, more likely, just put it to one side and for years be visually reminded of my stupid error and need to correct it.

Now I keep trying until I get it right, finished, out of the way and off the list. I realised that giving up on problematic jobs, just because they don't go according to plan first time, just puts off the inevitable. I would consciously tell myself that I'd have to sort it out sooner or later, so might as well do it now. In time, the frustration of making a mistake with things became more short lived. I re-programmed myself; mistakes became less mood altering and I found it easier to just get straight back onto the saddle.

The next time you start something and hit a problem (for example the loss of a load of work on your computer), have a cup of coffee and get straight back to it. The time gap between stopping and starting is full of frustration, regret, anger.....the sooner you get started again, the sooner those feelings will disappear. Working on it while the task is still fresh in your mind will also be easier than resuming later. Once you've done this a few times, you will find you are more able to overcome obstacles.

The box? It fits perfectly, has three compartments (one being for rings held neatly in rows with silk covered foam) and is painted green to match the shop. The effort was worth it, but what makes it so nice to look at is knowing I did it without hating having to do it.

Driven to distraction

2009-04-24T23:26:00.014+02:00

It seems every day there is something in the UK news about driving, roads, CCTV cameras or the government's determination to reduce road deaths. Each story has been another nail in the coffin of repatriation for me. I shudder at the thought.

The latest headline about reducing speed limits on urban and rural roads produced visions of me driving at a snail's pace with a long, empty, urban road in front of me. I felt enraged just thinking about it! To reduce speed limits by a third is not just unfair but unfeasible; how can a person who has driven a cetain way for decades suddenly make like he's driving a three-wheeler disabled vehicle?

The best thing for reducing road deaths is increasing concentration and I would not be concentrating if I had to drive a lot slower than the conditions permitted. I would be cursing the government, cursing the fact I was late, cursing the anal moron in front of me who was sticking to the speed limit as though a gun was being held to his head and cursing the CCTV camera that was looking at me. My right hand would not be on the steering wheel a great deal.

You can take away the mobile, the food and the speed, and install cameras on every street, but you can't stop road rage or poor concentration by way of threats of punishment. In fact, this war on driving will just make things worse.

Someone should re-do the Pink Floyd song, changing a few words...

'We don't need no snooping cameras, we don't need no police control. No nasty fines...in the courtroom. Gordon leave us folks alone. Hey! Gordon! Leaves us folks alone! All in all we can live our....lives on our own. All we want is just a....peaceful life on our own.'

My life is shit

2009-04-22T12:54:00.004+02:00

'My life is shit', 'Why is my life so rubbish?' and 'I hate my life' all come up regularly in my reader statistics. They are phrases people have entered into search engines to finally arrive at my blog.

I've always wished I could help each of these people, but everyone's different with unique stories. Recently though, I have come to the conclusion that our lives our in our hands and we can potentially make or break ourselves. Shit happens to everyone but not everyone manages to turn things around.

One thing I know helps to get your life sorted out is getting rubbish jobs completed and out of mind. Call it spring cleaning your life. I usually feel at my worst when I have loads of niggly tasks to do that, left undone, cause my life to be more disorganised, more stressful and less enjoyable. One job finished is one job less to worry about and one thing to feel good about. It turns a negative into a positive.

I've recently sorted out all my winter stock, bagging and labeling it all and storing it in my stock room. I've fitted a light to my stock room and organised everything in it. Now I no longer get annoyed at having to weave my way around my basement, struggle to find things or strain my eyes to see. Instead, I feel great every time I switch on the light and see how well I did everything.

I try to get one niggly job done each day so I feel like my list is always getting smaller. If you rarely get things done, you will feel weighed down with guilt at not doing anything and stress at knowing you will, at some time, have to do it anyway. Today I am making a box to display jewellery. I've looked at the messy little boxes for ages, knowing I should make one big one. Today is the day and when it's finished I'll feel great at having done it myself.

If you feel your life is rubbish, be honest and ask yourself if you really are doing a little bit each day to help get yourself out of a rut. You don't have to do it all at once but as you do start to tick things off the list, your mood will improve and your energy levels will increase. Your life is in your hands.

Evolution of Dance

2009-04-22T00:08:00.001+02:00

Bloody 'ell! How did he remember all that???

Gene Krupa

2009-04-21T17:48:00.002+02:00

Fantastic! Just like the jazz jams I go to in Ibiza....almost!

I have the Gene Krupa 'Drumming' Man' album and it's one of my favourates.

Death by suspense

2009-04-19T14:22:00.004+02:00

Today was the day I have been counting down the days to with fear and excitement for weeks. The Pacha shoot. I got no sleep last night tossing and turning. I turned so many times it became a physical habit. By 7am I realised I was being turned, against my will, like a pig on a spit and tried to force myself to stay on the same side.....but I couldn't! Performance anxiety has always been my cross to bare.

Despite my night of turning, I got up wide eyed and determined to be Miss Prepared. Having done several presentations at university unprepared, I now live in fear of not knowing my lines and therefore make sure I have covered every eventuality. I had my outfit plus two jewellery changes all ready the night before, along with my make-up colours. I showered and blow-dried my hair straight, painted my toe-nails and buffed myself to a high shine before bed. I even went to bed wearing a hair net!

Still wearing the hair net, I drove to the Pacha Hotel this morning in a half finished state and scurried into the bogs to complete the transformation. I did not want to be photographed with frown lines from my roofless drive or a dint on my nose from my glasses. I quite enjoyed my leisurely make-over and had plenty of time to make myself look a bit like geisha girl on the tiles. I applied loads of make-up as flash photography wipes it out.....hopefully!

Of course, everyone else looked very normal. Oh crumbs....what have I done?! Talk about the odd one out! There were individual shots and a group shot, leaving a gap for the person who didn't make it and who will be superimposed later.

This could either be something I bitterly regret, like the Katie Puckrick Pajama Party I did a spoof make-over on (and wiped the video of clean to remove all evidence!) or it could be something fantastic. Now I just have to live with the suspense of what it's going to look like in the magazine. I did my best anyway so if I look a trollop then so be it. I just hope they Photoshop my ugly toes and double chin!

Susan Boyle

2009-04-18T00:21:00.004+02:00

This article had me in tears! What a courageous woman and an amazing story of the triumph of good over evil and of proving the bastards wrong. This is surely going to become a film. I hope every single person who was ever mean to her is now suffering painful remorse. In fact, they should all give her a kiss on the cheek (seeing as she's never had one from a man). If I could, I'd give her a kiss on the cheek and a big hug!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI2DxkrgpgQ (Old recording)

and read...

Long, invisible tethers.

2009-04-17T16:50:00.009+02:00

Post deleted due to not wanting to attract odd men to San Carlos.

Asbestos in talcum powder

2009-04-16T22:08:00.001+02:00

I knew talc was bad for babies but never knew it was because it contained asbestos!