A little piece of me

Winter Nips, Olbas and Memories

2009-11-24T18:23:00.000Z

At this time of year, I reach for the Olbas more frequently. It use to be a seasonal thing, but my addiction has deepened, or my sinuses have become more stuffed over the decades, so now it's an all year round habit. The Olbas addiction started in early childhood, when the Grandma Lil use to shove an olbas inhaler up my nostrils before heading out to school on a cold morning. It was only in later years, did I realise that the olbas inhaler was passed between the sisters and I, never wiped in-between (gross). That olbas inhaler had to be ancient, I never saw a new one, ever.When the ye olde ancient olbas inhaler wasn't about, a few drops of pure olbas oil was put on a hanky and stuffed in my pocket. They say that your olfactory (sniff sniff) senses link up directly to your memory, so sniffing a wee bit of olbas whooshes me back to days of duffel coats and hugs off Grandma Lil.

Another childhood memory that goes in hand in hand with the olbas, is a handful of Winter Nips, before you get excited, the nips I am talking about, are the sweets you see in the picture above..Not the scenario doodled below....

I loved those sweets, they are small black herbal flavour boiled sweets, which don't actually sound that nice, but I assure they are! They warm up your mouth and as a kid, I was convinced that they magically warmed up your whole body. So when I saw a bag of them in the supermarket, I had to buy some! Nom nom nom nom!

So do you have favourite childhood sweet? What childhood smell tickles your olfactory senses?

What lurks beneath

2009-11-22T22:42:00.003Z

Is there anything worn under the kilt? No, it's all in perfect working order.
Spike Milligan

Next year my wee sister Heather will be marrying a highlander and this means kilts, lots of them. So on one of our recent marathon phone conversations, the sister and I got to talking about photographs and the issue with kilts. As I am the official photographer, it is my job to capture all the moments of the day, that includes the 'kilt' shot. This is the true test of Scottish authenticity, will the kilt wearers be bollocko underneath. If they are, I have to photograph it at some point (why me!). Why does one have to capture this moment? Maybe it is some ancient kilt flashing tradition, where they startle the poor person holding the camera, forcing them to have the image burned into their mind forever and ever, well at least until after all the images have been processed anyways.

Has Heather had any recent proof of this tradition? Well apparently she does and this lead to the infamous 'Penis on the head' tale. I apologise for using the word penis, it is necessary, although I could have used tallywhacker I suppose?
Anyhoo back to the tale....

Heather was at a wedding with her fiance and spotted the wedding guest book. Heather loves to write in these things (pages and pages). The outfit she was wearing meant that she had to kneel down, so she got herself comfortable and started to write...
All of a sudden, a darkness enveloped her and then she felt something on her head (uh oh).
She looks up.. big mistake.
Then as quick as the darkness came, the light was returned and the true horror was revealed.

It turns out one of John's (the fiance's) friends had decided to envelop her head with his kilt and let his penis rest on her head.

This is what I will have to deal with next year.. It may end badly for some.

Please read previous post for more sensible/ sensitive stuff and less penis (as in none at all) - It all floats to the bottom (which has nothing to do with bottoms, honest!)

It all floats to the bottom

2009-11-20T03:07:00.004Z

Basically, when you are down at The Bottom,

Marine Snow is the shit which rains down on you.

The amount, and the size of the shit depends on the season.

I have been reading a lot of blogs lately, mainly from my 'Mentalhealthish' list on twitter. Those on my mentalhealthish' list, sit either side of the couch, around it, on it or even behind it (hat tip to @wondedgenius for that phrase). Meaning they are clients, therapists or those that work in some capacity within the mental health field. Hopefully nobody on the list minds being tagged as 'mentalhealthish', it was just an easier way to keep tabs on why I was following certain folk over on twitter. They are a mixed bunch of folks, that amuse, educate and entertain constantly, not that that is their job, just a happy coincidence for me.

Not sure how to write this without sounding too gushing, sappy or just ridonkulous, but some of the posts I have read, have been far more inspiring and insightful than any book I have read of late. I think it is important to constantly keep your toes in the water, whatever stage of learning/studying you are at. You can never stop learning, if you think you know enough, then you are quite simply daft. Also the perspective you gain from hearing/reading about mental health issues from all parties is invaluable.

The doodle is inspired by a poem, a blog and well some more blogs. Some people have the rare talent of being able to write so well, that you feel almost part of their world, not in their world, but teetering around the edges. You get a glimpse of the highs and the lows in their life. It is impossible to be unaffected by the emotions so beautifully written, even if they are painful, you are grateful that they have been shared. So from that mixture of emotions, the above doodle was born. Click it to see it 'biggified' if you like.

Don't worry I am not getting anyone's face tattooed on my body yet! I am no mentalist! (Alan Partridge reference). I just hope people keep on writing, so that I can keep on learning (without anyone feeling like a guinea pig).

Some poetry follows...(Don't worry not mine!)

This is a poem that I found particularly poignant and went well with my theme, it is by Thomas Lux.

Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down by Thomas Lux
As you descend, slowly, falling faster past
you this snow,
ghostly, some flakes bio-
luminescent (you plunge,
and this lit snow doesn't land
at your feet but keeps falling below
you): single-cell-plant chains, shreds
of zooplankton's mucus food traps,
fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts,
sand grains, pollen....And inside
these jagged falling islands
live more microlives,
which feed creatures
on the way down
and all the way down. And you,
in your sinking isolation
booth, you go down, too,
through this food-snow, these shards,
bits of planet, its flora
and flesh, you
slip straight down, unreeled,
until the bottom's oozy silt, the sucking
baby-soft muck,
welcomes you
to the deep sea's bed,
a million anvils per square inch
pressing on your skull.
How silent here, how much life,
few places deeper on earth,
none with more width.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Zombies, Frapto and Mumborg stuff

2009-11-14T16:14:00.002Z

I am quite simply awful at computer games, with the exception of spider solitaire, I get motion sickness, bored and a whole other feast of side effects when playing them. Even with all that, I have persisted in playing one online game for the past three years (just before I started this blog). The game in question is Urban Dead and basically:

Urban Dead is a free-to-play browser-based multi-player game where you play the survivor or victim of a zombie outbreak in a quarantined city centre, alongside tens of thousands of others.

I have died 34 times and I am currently one of the undead once more, until a kind soul revives me. I don't like being a zombie, it seems awfully rude to munch on someone to gain points. Of course stabbing, shooting, bludgeoning to death a zombie is the height of politeness... Anyhoo I wander aimlessly round the streets offing zombies, healing survivors and barricading myself in rooms. That is about my level of competence, I think you can see why I have died 34 times.. I don't mind having a bite on a zombie whilst I am undead, but as a zombie I have standards! No eating hoomans, just say no to man flesh when dead.

Dr C R Pitt

What else has been happening that doesn't involve zombies? Well keep reading.....

Mumborg Update:Mumborg has been home since Monday and is settling back in rather well, she is having to make adjustments now that she is of one leg. It is remarkable how quickly one can adapt, but I am trying to get her to take things slowly, as she wants to hop before she can hobble.
At the moment the house has been invaded by my nephews, so that has been a wonderful spirit boost for her. As they live in Hamburg at the moment, she hardly sees them and being in hospital for so long, any plans to visit them were put on hold. So trying to fit in maximum fun for their short visit, fitted in the aquarium, cinema, board games and take away food so far ( I am bloody knackered lol).

Frapto Update

Having this 365 photo challenge has been great fun so far and I have been taking tons of photographs, manically pressing every button my poor battered camera has.

Frapto Archive

Frapto Flickr Set

Some days you can have loads of images to chose from, some days it is a struggle to take just one.

Here is one that didn't make Frapto

Plot Bunnies, photographs and sunshine

2009-11-06T22:40:00.003Z

First of all thanks for reading the rather long winded 'Three years and counting' post. Hands up if you just scrolled down to the comments? I know some of you buggers did..... heh.
(click to read definition of 'heh', as my offline folks don't usually have a clue).
Anyhoo it was nice to see folks from the past emerge and comment, I call those folks the 'oldies' and was pleasantly surprised to see new folks comment, those shall be the 'newbies'.

The Evil Plot Bunny

For some it is nanowrimo time once more, this is when some crazy folks crack out a novel in a month. All those that I know doing it, are what I would call writers. This leads me once more into the murky world of writing vs blogging. I am firmly entrenched in the ' I am a blogger' category, because quite frankly calling myself a writer feels utterly ridiculous. In saying that, I feel bad, I have spotted that light, I have followed it down a murky tunnel..... Yes I want to be a writer, I want to write a book and yes I hate myself for it. Alright I don't actually hate myself, but it does feel rather daft and grandiose.

I blame .............The Evil Plot Bunny, that furry creature that leaves droppings of ideas all over the place.

Miss Dorman inspired this doodle, so thanks a lot! (lol)

Mumborg News

The Mumborg should be released on Monday, if they get all the paperwork in order. She had a weekend visit and that went rather well, so huzzah and all that bollocks. It will be nice to finally get back to living and having some fun! For the Mumborg I mean. It has been bloody boring, well up until the removing of the leg part. Once she is all settled in and sorted, I will write a longer update.

Keep reading for more stuff and nonsense

Photos and such

One of the 'oldies' commented on the previous post that I had been lacking in photographic material of late, especially outside the house stuff, it seems photos of my socks are just not good enough! Cheeky cow that she is, Linda was right, she has a nasty habit of being that way (right, I mean). I think jealously definitely kicked in, especially when Lindy loo got an digital slr and her photography has been steaming ahead to professional status ever since.
So thanks to another oldie, Mr JD and Lindy loo, I have had a photographic kick up the arse. JD has kindly took it upon himself to create a group 365 project and I am one of those in the group. I can no longer just lament at the fact that I cant afford an SLR at the moment, I just need to use the camera that I do have, to its death. Although in saying that, I did actually kill it the other day, but thanks to the forum advice found here, a quick bang was all it needed and voilà it was revived. I wonder how long zombie camera will survive before it dies permanently?
So 365 Photos will be found on the site here Frapto and Flickr set here Frapto365 .

Give me light!

Don't blame it on the sunshine... Okay do. I have a love/hate relationship with this time of year. I love the smell, the leaves changing, the crisp air. I hate the gloom, the cold, the damp and the darkness. If I was a bear, I would for sure be hibernating right about now. Instead I am eating more crap, in the form of crisps and biscuits.

Dr Deb wrote an intersting post on this here: Seasonal Affective Disorder
You can also follow Dr Deb on twitter - @DeborahSerani

Other Interesting stuff:

Personal Development and the Dark Side - A great post on Personal Development Blogs and those that delve into the shadows of themselves: Find the post here

You can also follow the author of the post on twitter @mindfulconstrct

Right that is my waffle for the week, time flies when the evil plot bunny chases you all round the house, good thing I love rabbit stew!

3 years and counting

2009-10-29T22:43:00.002Z

Twas a cold October evening in the year 2006, the wind was howling and the body lay there cold on the floor.... Shit wrong story! Ah hem, forget the body bit. A young (ish) woman was stumbling around the internet looking for an online journal of sorts, something to record her thoughts for a personal development project. It was for her new counselling course, as the old pen to paper of recording thoughts thing wasn't working for her. Somehow she stumbles upon 'blogger' and Bob's your mothers aunt. She ponders for a while on what to call this blog thing (for about 2 minutes), nobody is going to read it anyway, so what does a name matter? Then the poor gal falls down a rabbit hole and awakes three years later.......

Lessons Learnt in Blogging

If you are a newbie blogger or just clueless like I was (well still am), then I think that you will enjoy reading the posts that I wrote for my first and second blogging anniversaries. I have learnt a lot and it really can't all fit into this one post. I will still highlight some of the information from those previous posts, in this post, as I try and sum up three years of blogging fun. This is blogging 'Personal' stylee, not making money, not professional writing, blogging tips or anything like that. This is just my little journey through HTML hell, troll dung and template tiffs.

Year One

My first blogging anniversary was a tad late,who knew you had to write an anniveresary post for every year you don't quit.

The blog looked like this

You can also see it in action here, thanks to the Way Back Machine (records all your old horrors). I have no idea how it works, but maybe you should check to see if your blog is there? Wayback Machine

The first actual incarnation was a horrid green spotty classic template (no offence to those that have the horrid green spotty one, although you could change it). There are No screen shots of that, because I had no clue what a screen shot was.
Main lessons learnt after year one: Posted like crazy, several times a day, twas a bad idea. Tried paid posting, it got boring,fast. Horrid template at first, messed the HTML, did a million memes, got bored.

Year Two

The blog looked like this

The wonderful Design Bug designed this for me and I loved it, still do.

Main lessons learnt after year two: Started doodling again, twas a joy, found more of a 'style', posted a lot less. Made some great friends, not all people on the internet are scary. Rediscovered twitter, found it vastly appealing. Twitter also led me to connect to people closer to where I live.

Keep Reading for more wonderful insights........

Year Three

Here I am now three years on, how would of thunk it!

Well it has been three years, so I must have some words of wisdom to share with you all?

Blog Appearance: Well as you can see it is now a vision in doodles, with less clutter and easier to navigate (I hope?) Again I called upon the talents of Design Bug, who just read my mind and turned it into the blog template I wanted. I loved the previous design, shown above, but it just wasn't working for me anymore. Also I thought I deserved a three years of blogging treat, so voilà here it is. If you are from the UK, the exchange rate really works in your favour, although to be fair, it is a bargain in dollars too.

What Tools do I use now?

I mean blogging tools, don't be thinking rude thoughts.. Oh just me?

I have continued to use BlogCatalog, it has its up and downs, mainly downs of late. It is changing though and soon it will be a real asset for blog promotion. Like any social networking site, you have to sieve through some shit to find the real gold nuggets.

Twitter- It is the marmite of social networking, you either love it or hate it. I happen to love it, because of a few things. It has connected me to local folks and that has been a joy! Who knew there were bloggers and tweeters so close to me. I have used it to build up a fantastic set of mental folk, by mental I mean those that tweet with a 'mental health' kind of theme, which has been invaluable to me. It is networking with like minded folk, who you can bounce ideas off, whatever time of day or night it is.

People - They are most valuable tools and the thing that keeps blogging alive. Whether you find them via blogcatalog, google, reading blogs, twitter etc, hopefully once they arrive at your blog, they then get hooked and want to stay. You have to make an effort though, a selfish blogger is no fun at all! Sure you can have a large cranium because people visit your blog and comment, but don't be pompous arse about it. If people bother to comment or reach out in some way, then try to respond in some way back. Some folks consistently reply to comments, some email, some twitter talk, some facebook, some do all! I try to do at least one of them, but at times I have been an ignorant sod.

Friends - Not something I even thought about when I started blogging, not that I was thinking much about anything. Some of those people that you trick into reading your blog, via whatever means, end up being rather friendly people! I know, who would of thunk it?

Other Thoughts

Blog-Roll - I axed the blog roll a while back. Why is that? It was getting long, nobody was using it and it doesn't actually do anything for your stats. All the good stuff is stored in my google reader. If someone writes something that needs to be shared, then I may include a link in a post, tweet it, stumble it, broadcast it, etc etc.I do check other peoples' blogrolls, but of late the interesting folk have been in their comment boxes too and it is those folks that you really want. The question arises quite a bit in blog world 'Are you a reader or a writer', I have always answered 'both'. I love reading other people's blogs, they are entertaining, inspiring, informative, creative and I could go on and on.The Blog Roll use to be a way of keeping all those cool folk in one place, but as your blogging habits evolve, so does your reading habits.

Personal Development- I was just at the start of my counselling studies when I started this blog and now I am right at the end, well for this level anyways. Blogging has been immensely helpful to me for college stuff, from the stuff that I written here, to thoughts I have bounced off people on twitter, to the people that have commented on the 'counselling' posts. Having a creative outlet for all my random thoughts has been a unique experience and I think that is what has proven to be the most addictive thing about blogging.

Here is too another three years of headaches, fun, friendship and a whole heap of other bollocks.

/raises a glass to all those read this, cheers!
(by glass I mean a humongous mug of tea)

Swine Socks

2009-10-26T20:56:00.000Z

Finally getting over the ruddy flu! It may have been swine related, it may have not. I took the dreaded tamiflu anyways and I am not dead, so that is good. I thought I would photograph my appropriate swine like socks and whack it in a post, whilst I catch up on things. Three years of blogging is rapidly approaching, so things may possibly be changing around here very soon.....

Mumborg: 50th commemorative edition

2009-10-17T04:39:00.003+01:00

First of all what is a Mumborg?
The word Mumborg was first created to describe my mother as she was edging ever closer to bionic woman and ever further away from normal human being status. I decided on this post , after playing with variations of the bionic/borg theme, ranging from mum/cyborg to cybernetic beast master. I use to refer to her as the 'Cupboard Monster' but that confused people a wee bit too much. I think they thought the 'Cupboard Monster' was my alternate personality, which is ridonkulous (that is Ralph, Hey Ralph!). Also Mumborg is another home run on google, I currently own the market on 'Mumborgs' woot. The question now is, does the mumborg still qualify as a borg like parent since having the leg removed? I voted and the answer is yes! Although the major metal work was in the leg that was removed, she now relies more on the electric wheelchair, which is bionic (sort of), so the nickname stays!

Today Mumborg hits 50

"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down." By T.S. Eliot

I couldn't have a birthday month of my own, oh no, the mumborg sneaks in a mere 5 days later. That also means I must have been the best birthday present ever all those years ago, right? Also another year of her being in hospital for her and my birthdays, I think it is 5 or 6 years on the run! Maybe she is trying to tell me something? The good news is that, although she is in hospital for her birthday, she should be home rather soon.

"I think when the full horror of being fifty hits you, you should stay home and have a good cry." By Alan Bleasdale

Does 50 make a difference?
When I talk about the mumborg I am not sure how old most people think she is, as I am not sure most people realise how old I am? (shoe size age most of the time). Anyhoo, when I have talked about her in the past, people have said 'At least she has had a good life', which don't get me wrong is true (sort of). I then tell them her age, which was late 40's until today (now the big 50), that is met with almost gasps of horror. If she was 70 all this crap wouldn't be so bad, so it seems, but as she is only a youngster, it is bloody depressing, apparently.

On with birthday stuff
A totally not true conversation (okay some of it is true)

Me: What would you like for your 50th birthday?

Mumborg: /thinking.......

Me: Its too late anyways, I already got you something.

Mumborg: Ohhhhh what?

Me: Tada! I got you a wooden leg and a parrot.

Mumborg: Erm, that is not quite what I wanted.

Me: What did you want?

Mumborg: M&S vouchers, some books and DVD's.

Me: Spoilsport! What I am going to do with these now?

Mumborg: Halloween?

Me: Yeah cool.

So it is a big Happy Birthday to the Mumborg,
Wee Claire probably says it better than me, so let me rummage through the vaults of time and find proof of this.

The superbly talented TJ strikes again, with this beautiful mumborg doodle.

Act your age, not your shoe size.

2009-10-12T12:29:00.002+01:00

Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.

In a effort to post a least once a week, this weeks instalment falls upon my birthday, yay for me or something. Like many women my age, I am 28 years old, no really, that is how old I am now. Some advice I received, once long ago, is running round my head at the moment, it is rather deep so take a moment whilst you read it:

"Act your age, not your shoe size"

Shockingly profound isn't it? But as I have rather large feet*, I think acting in relation to ones shoe size, wouldn't actually be that bad, in fact I positively recommend it.

*Not freakishly large feet by the way, don't haunt me with clown music (you know who you are).

As my birthday fell upon a Monday this year (worse day ever!), I decided to go out over the weekend to celebrate instead. What to do now that I am past the drink so much, puke, drink some more stage of my life? Go to my first ever proper gig of course! In the last few years I have developed a new love for music, gone are the complacent days of just flipping on Radio 1 (popular station in UK land). For those that write reviews on music and gig, may I give you three mugs of Kudos? Because holy shit is it hard to write about music! I have tried unsuccessfully to describe how much I like or dislike certain music, trying to put some passion into it, but failing miserably. So I have come up with a really technical scale of musical wonderment chart, which I will probably never use again...

The Claire Scale of Musical Wonderment
1. Hallowed three thumbs up of awesomeness (Similar to wet my pants awesomeness)
2. Ohhhhh awesomeness
3. Pretty awesome
4. Hmmm (The hmmm of pondering)
5. Meh
6. Holy shit! How fucking awful (similar to 'My ears, my ears, arghhhhhhhhh')

Even though I am British, I still love the word awesome, there are other words that may be more eargasmic, but I am sticking with awesome. Just thought I would mention that, after having a discussion about the word awesome with someone else and not really relevant to this, but hey this is my stream of nonsense after all.

So whom did I see?
I saw Bat for Lashes and Yeasayer at the Liverpool O2 academy, which is a smallish venue. Yeasayer where the supporting act, but in my opinion they got the 'Hallowed three thumbs up of awesomeness' and should have played for much longer! Hardly anyone was watching them either, which was shocking, as they were such a treat. Bat for Lashes were only slightly below them with a 'ohhhhh awesomeness' rating, not sure what it was, but they didn't connect with me as much as Yeasayer. It could be because some absolute morons decided to edge they way through the crowd and stand right in front of me, forcing me to tap them on the shoulder and utter moooooooove in a some what snarl. I know its a gig and standing room only, but if you are keen, then get there bloody earlier and position yourself in a cool spot, no need to act like a tool. Anyhoo it took a while for me to avert my laser eye beam stare from the back of their heads and back onto Bat for Lashes, after some musical meditation all was well once more. I loved the small venue feel to the place, as it definitely added a more intimate vibe, both bands are well versed in playing at festivals, so you know they can perform on a larger scale too. It wasn't hard to imagine being a sunny field dancing bare foot whilst listening to their tunes. So now I am hooked even more on those two bands and now live gigs! Slap me with a wet haddock for leaving it so long to go to a gig! I know this gig review has blown you away...... (come back).

Bat for Lashes - Daniel

Yeasayer - Tightrope

If you are musically inclined and on Last.fm, then check out of my profile.

Now for the rest of my birthday I will be doing...... Not much

Update: Mucho thanks for birthday wishes

Look what TJ doodled for me:

I hate the gal for being so talented, but was touched that she took time out to doodle this for me.

Fake leg shenanigans

2009-10-05T23:42:00.000+01:00

What do you buy a mumborg with one leg? A fake latex rubber leg of course.....

Typical! The shop only had fake latex like 'right' legs and we needed a left leg, but what can one do. My sister and I scared the poor shop boy person as he was wandering back towards the arm and leg section with an awol arm. Seeing two women rummaging manically through that section, seeking a left leg must have looked quite odd. I think it was the laughing as my sister told him that we were looking for a leg for our mother who had been freshly amputated, that really made him scarper. I don't know why....Where on earth can you find an arm and leg section anyways? Tis the season to be bloody of course! Halloween in other words, so the supermarkets are full of all things gory.
Anyhoo the mumborg liked her gift, but some dastardly person had taken the real humour out of it! Offended by it? Nay. The lady next door to the mumborg has also had her leg recently amputated and someone gave her a fake latex leg the day before! Curses to them and their sick sense of humour! The mumborg has put it use straight away and is terrorising the nurses and doctors with it, confusing some of them into thinking she hadn't had surgery after all, haha.

Thanks to the great googly moogly powers that be, one of my doodles is already appearing in google images when one searches for hindquarter amputation. Not that I imagine many people actually search for that term and/or want or expect a daft doodle? What I do hope is that people find this site and maybe find it of some use, if they or someone they love is going through something similar. This stream of waffling was caused in some part by a comment I received yesterday on this post 'Risking life and limb', I am not going to post the whole comment on this post, but it is there in the comments of that post, if you would like to read it. I will however post this bit:

But I just came on this page looking for hope for him after the amputation. Is there? Is mumborg okay now?

I hope they don't mind me posting that bit of their comment here, I just wanted them to see my response, if they come back, as there was no other way of reaching them.

I am not one to use the word 'hope' willy nilly, as it is not something I control or even really believe in. All I can say is that mumborg is okay now and she is doing fantastically well. It is hard to give advice to someone else going through the same thing, as everyone will handle it differently. I suppose I look upon it like the grieving process, as it is a significant loss and there are a whole range of emotions that you go through. What helped the mumborg a lot was meeting other amputees and talking to them, they, after all, are living breathing examples that life does in fact go on after amputation. Things are still very new and strange for me at the moment, as it has only been just over a week. I have no crystal ball that will tell me that things will be wonderful and there wont be any more problems, but for now things are good and it looks like she may be allowed home soon.

If you have only recently joined in on the mumborg adventures just click the 'mum' to find out more.

Operation Lopitoff complete

2009-09-30T02:52:00.002+01:00

Well Operation Lopitoff has been completed and I now have a one legged mumborg.

Waiting, waiting and a bit of waiting.

Although I knew that the operation would most likely be on the Friday just gone, it was not for definite. So on Thursday, the triumvirate finally made the decision that the leg would be lopped off on the Friday. I am nicknaming the three surgeons the 'Triumvirate', because it sounds cool and there are three of them. The gruesome thrusome, didn't quite work or sound evil enough. Even though to all accounts they are all lovely and have just fallen victim to my artistic license.
Anyhoo back on track, things were scheduled to kick off at around 11am on Friday morning. I think waiting around for word from the hospital is quite possibly one of the most difficult things about these types of situations. You are literally helpless. If you have flown recently, you may have noticed the flight tracker thingy on the little screen that lets you know the flight progress, one of those would be great for surgery. Although if things started flashing and suddenly went blank, that may cause some concern...
You try not to let your mind wander 'there', my there is the death type of 'there'. The thought of the mumborg dying on the operating table is a nightmare of mine. But like every surgery, there is that tricky thing of complications and possibilities, so I would rather be armed with the worst possible outcomes, than blind to them.
After sevenish hours of waiting, we finally heard that she was out of surgery and had ended up straight back on her ward. I was expecting HDU at the very least, maybe even ICU time, but for her to be back on her ward was good news. At first when I heard she was back on her ward, I actually hoped that they hadn't done the operation or had somehow fixed the leg. I went through all those thoughts in my head, because I didn't want any disappointment to show in my face. The dad went to see her first, they needed a moment just for themselves. Then a while later, Heather and I went in.
My eyes went first to the large space where the leg and bits once were, in that moment it seemed like a huge chunk of her was missing. It is hard to put into words how it feels in that moment, because as you are looking, your mind is already adapting. I suppose I would go with 'weird', it just felt weird. Then the mumborg speaks and the weirdness fades a wee bit, because it is still her.

It doesn't grow back

The hindquarter amputation looks something like this

As far as the surgeons are concerned the operation went well, even though they are still upset that it came to this. I think they are relieved that things are healing well and mumborg came through the operation in as good a condition as one could expect.

Where is the leg?
The Mumborg was hoping that they would be able to do something useful with the leg, at least study the epic fail of a limb that it is, but alas no. Due to the very heavy restrictions on all things in regards to infection control, the leg had to go straight to the incinerator. I guess that could be classed as a funeral of sorts, well at least a cremation. Unfortunately we don't get the ashes, so when she does pop her clogs in the far far distant future she will be missing a bit.

One Legged Mumborg

I found a earlier model of the one legged mumborg here - One legged hopper

Once the relief kicks in that the mumborg made it through the operation, the realisation that I have a one legged mumborg sets in. You know it is going to happen, you talk about it happening, but then it actually happens. Quite frankly it is rather shocking, a large part of a person you love is missing. Tis not the outward that makes up the essence of a person, so whilst she is incomplete on the outside, inside in a soul like way she is the same person. Does that make it easier to get your hand around? Yes to some extent it does.

What next?

Let us leave that morbid stuff behind and focus on the positive stuff, which is basically wrapped up in one neat package called 'Mumborg'. The mumborg is already 'up' and about, in regards to being allowed in her electric wheelchair, but that is causing some pain, not that she would admit to it. The wound is dry (no ooze or blood) and she may even be allowed off the antibiotics soon. I thought she would be on IV antibiotics for months, but looks like this wont be happening, which is great.
The next challenge is physiotherapy and the question of will she be able to walk on crutches? Considering that her shoulders dislocate all the time and the other leg is not exactly fantastic, this possibility is still very much up in the air. Although the mumborg is determined to walk again, so who am I to discourage that. If things go really well, then she could be home soon and back to being the pain in my arse, hooray!

Random thoughts
Time flies when you are not having fun! Can't believe it has been nearly two weeks since I wrote anything on here. It has been a roller-coaster of emotions, that has left me feeling a bit nauseous and very bloody tired!

If you have only recently joined in on the mumborg adventures just click the 'mum' to find out more.

Introducing Mr Lopitoff

2009-09-17T01:41:00.002+01:00

Every story needs a villain, so in the latest Mumborg trials who better than the surgeon who will remove her leg? So I thought I would introduce you to Mr Lopitoff (Not his real name), the Mr is because he is a surgeon and not just a mere doctor. He is supposedly a nice man and a great doctor, but I shall be ignoring that for the sake of artistic license or some such bollocks. Through the power of text and twitter, the mumborg and I reached a compromise with 'Mr Lopitoff', but who knows this may change, especially if we think of something funnier.
The Mumborg doesn't actually read this here blog, because I don't let her have computer access, but she does know that I write about and doodle her. Even so she frequently tells people about the blog, including the lovely hospital chaplain (waves at him and hopes he doesn't notice the bad words). The chaplain was nice enough to print off this doodle for mum's room. It was that doodle that Mr lopitoff commented on and boy will the poor sod rue that day. When the mumborg told me that he, along with a few others on the ward, really liked the doodles (inflated ego alert!), I thought hmmmmm?? What about adding a surgeon to the doodle adventures? Mumborg loved the idea, so poor Mr Lopitoff doesn't know that the Mumborg then enlisted a fellow doctor to steal his picture, so that I had good doodle material to work with. Who knows what will happen to Mr Lopitoff, I suppose it depends on how good a job he does in surgery, No pressure! Actually a shit load of pressure, as I wouldn't want to kill off his character so soon.....

Things you shouldn't hear in surgery:

Accept this sacrifice, O Great Lord of Darkness.

If you have only recently joined in on the mumborg adventures just click the 'mum' to find out more.

Risking Life and Limb

2009-09-12T03:07:00.005+01:00

When writing the post entitled The Resilient Leg, I already knew that the bloody thing wasn't resilient. It should have been called The Resilient Mumborg, as she keeps going even when certain limbs become defective and dangerous. Can you guess where I am going with this post? The thing that I had hoped I would never have to write about, well one of the things anyways. The Mumborg and the not so resilient leg have decided to part ways and it is not on good terms at all. There is nothing more the doctors can do with the leg, other than lop it off, so that is what they will be doing in a few weeks. It takes a while to get things sorted. Teams of surgeons, an operating theatre booked for the day, oodles of blood ready to go. Also the mumborg has to be in as tip top shape as one can be, when one is having their leg removed.

Amputate verb
cut off, remove, separate, sever, curtail, truncate, lop off.

The type of amputation is call a Hind-quarter amputation or a

Hemipelvectomy (posh whatnot name as one of mum's nurses said)

(Science: procedure) amputation of a lower limb through the sacroiliac joint.

How do you feel?
People have asked me, including myself how hearing that the mumborg losing the leg is affecting me.
Do you want to know that I have sat here with tears running downing my face, trying to choke them back at times. I don't want a hug, I don't want sympathy, and I want to cry about it. I don't want the feelings to overwhelm me, but I don't want to ignore them either. There is a sense of relief letting the tears flow and at times snot flows too, then I wipe my face with dressing gown sleeve and carry on. I don't want an audience when I feel like this, I am not bottling it up, it is just mine and for me. So when people ask, I say 'If the mum is okay, then so am I', it is my new mantra. I know it is a shit situation, I know I have every reason to be upset, I also know that words and hugs wont make it all better. That probably makes me sound like an ungrateful wretch, but that is just how I roll. That doesn't mean don't ask me or don't express what you are feeling, I appreciate it, and I really do. It all gets filed into a special place that I know I can dip into when I need it.

When good old Willy wrote this:

"Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit."

William Shakespeare quotes (English Dramatist, Playwright and Poet, 1564-1616)

I don't think Willy had the mumborg in mind, or indeed amputation, but for me this sums up what is important. The mumborg is full of spirit no matter what her body has in mind for her, her spirit is as resilient as ever. If she was devastated about this, I have no idea how I would feel, luckily I don't have to go there. As I looked around for more appropriate limb quotes, if there is such a thing, I came across this one

"The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired."

Robert Southey quotes (English Poet and Writer of prose. 1774-1843)

Is that true I wonder? Will time heal the anguish, but leave a loss? Luckily through writing, even when it feels indulgent and emo, I am thankful for this space to write. Mainly because I will be able to look back at this in a few weeks, months or years and see how things have changed for me.

How does the mumborg feel?
The mumborg has had to live with the pain, the operations, the long long hospital stays and everything else. So quite frankly she is more than okay with divorcing this limb. Yet again I went quote searching for a way to sum up how she has explained it to me and this one does it quite well.

"I would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits"

Samuel Johnson quotes (English
Poet, Critic and Writer. 1709-1784)

Where is the leg going?
Once the leg is removed it will more than likely be incinerated, the mumborg thinks this is wasteful and has asked whether it would be of use to anyone else. That made me laugh , maybe the local zoo would like it for lion food? She wasn't impressed with my suggestion of cremating the leg and keeping it in a mini urn, waiting for the rest of her. I thought it was a practical suggestion, apparently not. Joking aside maybe some medical students can practice their suturing skills on it or something like that, seems a shame to just chuck it in a furnace. Although as I am typing this, I actually think 'Fuck it' and 'Burn that fucker' would be more appropriate.

Final thoughts for now
The operation is going to be horrendous, with side effects of severe blood loss and possibly death, so until the operation stage is over I am just going to focus on the day to day things of life, as best I can. After that I will be looking into the new world of buying one shoe, one legged doodles and all things amputee related.

I have not forgotten about my mental health monsters, I have more than ever developing and welcome the chance to indulge in something that feels rewarding, whilst still being hugely enjoyable.

If you have only recently joined in on the mumborg adventures just click the 'mum' to find out more.

A pictorial update

2009-09-02T01:07:00.000+01:00

I am currently working on my next mental health monster post and would like to thank everyone for reading the boggart post! It is reassuring to know that I can write a long post and not cause everyone to run to hills! Hooray for me.

If you have any mental health monster suggestions feel free to leave them in the comment box. So far I have the Procrastinating Poltergeist, who is helped out by the Lethargic Leprechaun and the Imp of Inertia. Also I have the Transference Troll and the Depressed Dragon. Some kind soul suggested the Nymphomaniac Gnome, but I think I will leave that one for now, unless it suddenly becomes a burning issue.

While I am working on the new material, I will throw up some photographs for you to gaze upon.

First is a collage of my cousin Sam's passing out parade, which basically means he has completed his first six months training in the army, Royal Engineers to be more precise.

After the parade, the Dad and I headed through the Cotswolds and had a lovely weekend looking at villages and eating nice food. I would of took a lot more photographs, but had a major battery fail and had to steal these ones off the dad.

The bogart in my brain

2009-08-25T02:14:00.010+01:00

This is a wordy post for me; it may cause some people to faint in shock. Not at the content, just the fact that I wrote a long post.

I was perusing through the several million posts currently languishing in my Google reader. If you don't know what I am talking about, the Google reader is like a dream catcher for blogs or it's actually this Google Reader. Anyhow back to the stream of consciousness that I am currently riding on, whilst perusing I came across a post entitled The Better Bogart Within and thought Aha! That is exactly how I have been feeling lately, so I merrily clicked on it to read more.

Hold the phone! Wait a bloody minute! How could I have been so wrong, that is not the Bogart I have been looking for (lame sort of Star Wars joke). The post in question talks about Humphrey Bogart and I already know from my wee twitter experiment, that Bogart evokes images of Mr Bogart the famous actor. So when I read the word Bogart, what popped into my noggin?

Which is actually one of these: Boggart

Why did I identify with the Boggart in the first place?

In various children's books and films, the Boggart is something nice that turns into something rather nasty when you upset it, insult it, poke it and just generally piss off the bugger. Well after writing down my feelings of late, I feel like I have been a bit of a Boggart, more to the point I have been feeding mine.

My interpretation of a Boggart, let us call him/her H.Bogart (a nod to good old Humphrey), is that part of you that feeds on all the negative stuff happening around you, on a mostly subconscious level. I say mostly, because sometimes you are more than aware of the stuff that is impacting you negatively. Before you know it, you have manifested your very own Boggart on the brain. My kind of Boggart is not a mythical beast from folklore, but a more tangible beast that lives in my head. What and why have I been feeding this beast of mine?

What does my Boggart eat?

Stress is like a Chinese banquet for a family of six for my Boggart. That stress can be split into handy Boggart sized portions, covering every aspect of my life, from lack of sleep to worrying about a multitude of things. All of this equals one big fat hairy bloody Boggart and if this is all in your head, it can certainly weigh you down. How do you get your Boggart to weigh less? Put them on a ruddy diet! Easier said than done I hear you cry! I have tried diets and they suck monkey's balls. Well guess what? Effort goes into producing a fat hairy bloody Boggart, so effort is needed to lighten the load. Whether it is baby steps or monster steps, just looking in the right direction is a start. Heck thinking about looking in the right direction is a start.

Putting the Boggart on a Diet

Remember your Boggart may be lazy, anti-social and a bit stinky. Also getting him out of that mental closet will prove a tad difficult. Here are some pointers to getting rid of that Boggart mental flab hanging around.

Talk about it- Although you may still be hairy and look like a Boggart, with a bit a spit stuck in your whiskers from all that ranting and raving. I still recommend finding an ear to listen to you, whether that is friends, family, doctor or whatever trusted ear you chose.

Write about it- Not necessarily blog it like me, I am lucky to have this as an outlet. I do occasionally pick up a pen and write on paper! It is a revelation. The good thing about paper is that it burns and it is great at times to write whole load of brain spillage and then burn it. Careful the Boggart may try to eat the paper and crayons, they are funny like that.

Draw it out- Well obviously I love doodling and that works for me. Just think of how many other art forms there are to use and abuse in order to get some of that stuff out of your head. Remember the Boggart and their tendency to eat drawing materials.

Scream about it, Cry about it, Walk it out, Run it out, Swim it out, Dig it out (gardening not lobotomy), Dance it out, Blast it out (musically not explosives).

What do you feed your Boggart? Does it have a name?

Self awareness is the key to combating the inner Boggart; put him/her on a diet if you can. According to folklore the worst thing you can do is give a Boggart a name, but to that I say phooey!

Don't hate your Boggart; just don't ignore him/her either.

Negative things happen all the time, shit happens, the less polite of us will say. Don't kick yourself in the face when something bad happens, just try and minimise the damage that it does by talking things out, or whatever works for you (See Boggart Diet). If you haven't found anything that works, then try something new. I know, I know, easier said than done in some cases, but that mental shift has to happen to make any difference to your inner Boggart. For your inner Boggart, a lucky horseshoe aint going to do much at all in ridding you of your Boggart like feelings.

Final piece of Boggart Advice: Do not try and escape your Boggart by running away, he will follow you whether you go, unless dealt with correctly. A real Boggart will follow its family from abode to abode, but a mental Boggart lives in your head and you can't escape from yourself. That is not meant to sound all woe is me! Boggart battling may sound scary (or ridiculous), but the outcome is worthwhile.

In my Boggart research I came across this fantastic post and it seems I am not original at all when it comes to using the Boggart as a metaphor for those internal struggles:

Freud, Id, Boggarts And Dementors

Consider my post 'The idiots guide to Boggarts and their ritualistic feeding habits' and the above linked post as 'Boggarts for the Enlightened'. I kind of hate this person for already writing a Boggart post, especially a good one! Curses to them, but it was too good to pretend I hadn't read it and it deserves three thumbs up (Uh oh I am feeling a bit of a green eyed Boggart coming on, back beast,backkkkkkkkkkkkk).

Did this make any sense? If not, just ignore it and blame bloody Humphrey Bogart (What a twat).

/runs off to find a dark closet

Talking to my rage

2009-08-20T21:14:00.002+01:00

The rage overwhelms me as the drilling begins once again, my fists clench and fingernails stick into my palms, my whole body seizes up with the tension and my head feels like it is trapped in a vice.
I turn the music louder and louder, but the insidious sound of the drill oozes through the walls and straight into my already addled mind.

It stops, I breathe in the silence.

Then it all starts again.

I step away from the computer, abandoning my work once more, how can one type let alone think when all I can see is the red mist of anger in front of me.

I feel sick, I pace around.

I sit in the bathroom, its quiet there and cry out of frustration. I shake myself out of it, none of that malarkey.
I attempt to do other things, household chores that need doing, but could be left. I should be doing work. I NEED to be doing work!

They are not doing on it purpose, I reassure myself, trying to feel a sense of calm.

But how can they not know this is driving me to distraction! The less rational I yells to myself, the wall, the whatever and the vice tightens again.

You should have gone the library, rational me says.

Fuck you! Why should I move all my stuff to the library, this is my house!

Why put yourself through this, you know the building work is going to continue?

I know!

So?

I guess I will go the library tomorrow?

Good, no excuses.

What if it rains?

NO EXCUSES!

Fine!

You do know that this anger is more at yourself, than the building work? Stress is a killer, you know that?

Piss off! (I know)

/sigh

Mood enhanced/encouraged by this track : Talking Heads - Psycho Killer

Tip for the day:

Feeling stressed, angry or upset (or all)? Then write it down, talk to someone (other than yourself), do a piece of artwork, go for a walk, listen to some relaxing music. It really does help, it is better out than in, someone said.

Okay "Its better out than in' normally refers to when someone farts, but consider a shitty mood like a malingering build up of noxious gas, much better out! Well for you anyway.

Fluffy socks

2009-08-14T00:04:00.000+01:00

I have a thing for mad socks, not a thing 'thing', I just like them. They are great for keeping the feet warm and more importantly, great for sliding on floors. Aren't you glad you know that wonderful piece of information about yours truly.

Pissing Down

2009-08-13T02:47:00.002+01:00

Out in the pool

2009-08-09T01:13:00.001+01:00

The Resilient Leg

2009-08-01T17:42:00.000+01:00

I was going to call this thread a more niftier sounding title than 'The Resilient Leg', but something tells me that the following title is kinda long winded.

Removal of the hip,femoral and knee bone to clear infection before reconstruction, leaving leg 'floppy' for that time until leg is infection clear.

Anyhoo the mumborg had operation 8, since February, yesterday, which resulted in the Removal of the hip,femoral and knee bone to clear infection before reconstruction, leaving leg 'floppy' for that time until leg is infection clear. The mumborg actually said something about trying to get in the Guinness book of world records for number of operations in shortest period of time, I was not amused. It is hard to imagine what exactly I mean by 'floppy' unless you can see what I mean. I will try an draw it for you:

If you remember the Option A, B or C? post, you will see that it is Option A that they sort of went for. The risk now as always is infection, infection and more infection. Only until it is 100% infection free will they go ahead and try and reconstruct the leg. So yesterdays operation was only the first part of the long continuing process of trying to save this ruddy leg. It is always in the forefront of my mind that the mumborg might lose the leg anyway, but it is better to be prepared for that. The mumborg signed the consent form for amputation yesterday, luckily it didn't come to that this time. If she can cope with losing the leg, then who I am to say anything? Although of course I did say something along the lines of 'Bloody fucking hell mum'.

I am pondering writing and doodling a guide to visiting people in hospital, especially aimed at people who are in hospital for a long time. It will be a mix of sarcasm, a few stabs at wretched family members and some useful stuff. I asked the mumborg to help me with some tips from a patients prospective, sound fun? There is a whole range of topics to be covered, from what gifts to buy to how often one should visit.

Ps: To Gracie, The mumborg adored your card and has shown it to every visitor. They of course think its rather strange that the mumborg is receiving cards from people I know off the 'internet', also they don't get the 'mumborg' thing either. What is important, is that the mumborg loved it and wanted me to pass it on how much so.

I also do pass on well wishes from folks on here, BC and twitter, the mumborg is amused by it all and tells the nurses that my blog is read by millions (lol). I think the fame has gone to her head.

I know people wonder why I write about the mumborg on here and on twitter, especially when things look grave. The simple fact is that all these thoughts are swirling around in my head and they need to go somewhere. I also hope that other people in similar situations, with parents and loved ones in hospital get something from it too?

What do counsellor's/therapists wear?

2009-07-23T13:41:00.000+01:00

Hello chums, chaps,dudes, blokes, imaginary friends, not so imaginary ones and my dear readers. Welcome to yet another Claire wiffle waffle moment. It is just one of those days where random thoughts are being pondered and not a lot of sense is being made.
Yesterday I went to the local cancer support centre to see if I can do my volunteer counselling hours there for my counselling diploma. I wasn't feeling that nervous till it was time to go and then slight days of chunder feelings swooshed over me, but I got a grip of it and off I went.
The centre is a lovely place, as soon as you walk in it has such a nice vibe and it is run by lovely people.That is what I decided in the first few minutes anyways. It was an informal interview over a cup of coffee, were I was asked what models of counselling I would use, confidentiality issues, number of sessions, time available and all that fun stuff. I was also very happy to hear that they pay for my counselling supervision hours, which is great news for me! I didn't expect that at all. Expenses for travelling were offered also, but I shall be walking so wont need that. Then I got showed around the place, most importantly for me was seeing the listening room (counselling room).I got rather excited after having a look round and they seem happy to have me on-board with them. Just need to finish that college work stuff and get my references from college tutors, then away we go!

What does one wear?

When I left, I was left with one question buzzing around my noggin, what does one wear? As I have been a wretched student for some time now, my wardrobe accurately depicts this. So I have to have a think on what is suitable to wear for counselling? I think the question in itself is interesting, as I myself have perceptions on what counsellors wear already, mainly because of my college tutors and classmates.

So as I was pondering, I did above doodle and twittered this question:

When you picture a counsellor/therapist, what did you picture them wearing? Anything in particular? Birthday suit is not a accepted answer .

Replies

@crpitt hrmmm I'll bite =D Brunette in form fitting suit, hair rolled up in a bun, glasses, with an innocent, but naughty look (via xight)
@crpitt I picture a female and wearing a semi professional skirt suit. Is that wrong? :) (via Cyran)
@crpitt that hot librarian look is good. Sorta demure but not. And not too much black (via yogachicky)
@crpitt I think what the counsellor should wear depends on who his or her clients are. Who are you going to be working with? (via cleiomao)
@crpitt Not sure how it is in the UK, but here, there are lots of muted, understated looks in the therapy field. (via Miragi)
@crpitt What we'd call "business casual" over here. No suits, but not too dress-down. (via Aerten)
@crpitt wear what u feel comfy in non restricting non showing of the breasts(important for female counsellors) nothing that distracts work (via Tao_of_Pooh)

Do counsellors that are paid versus counsellors that are volunteers wear different clothes? Does the type of client dictate what you 'should' wear? Does it matter to you?

Other stuff:

Mumborg is not behaving at all, yesterday she dislocated her hip/leg again! Just moving in her hospital bed. It is horrendously painful for her, I only know that because when she actually mentions something is painful, that means it is really painful. So she was nil by mouth most of the day, getting x-rayed and stuff, but they couldn't fit her into surgery till this morning.Which is not good for the mumborg, especially with the state of that leg already.

A hip dislocation is a true orthopaedic emergency in that the incidence of subsequent avascular necrosis of the femoral head is a time-dependent phenomenon becoming increasingly common if relocation is delayed beyond 6 hours.

The major major operation is scheduled for a week on Friday, with removal of everything bone and metal wise from the knee and up, to the hip area. That area will then be left 'floppy' i.e. no bones, till it is 100% infection free. Then they will see about reconstructing the leg, if that fails then the leg will have to go.

I want to ride a bicycle and stuff

2009-07-16T01:10:00.004+01:00

At the age of 27 I have found myself in the awkward position of not being able to ride a bike, or at least not effectively. How did this tragic event occur?
Firstly the mumborg being in hospital a lot was not conducive to bicycle learning time and the dad had to juggle the siblings, work, mumborg and I. Although I still think they could of squeezed this vital skill in somewhere.
Secondly I never actually got a new shiny bicycle of my own, I got a second hand bmx thing from somebody or other which was a dangerous beast and built for a boy type person.
So things were not looking good for me at all, especially when thirdly I have the coordination skills of somebody with two left feet dancing to the wrong rhythm, backwards and upside down (that bad).
What limited time I did spend riding bicycles was not fun at all, I was too scared to go fast and couldn't get the hang of those wretched gears and brakes. It is not a good idea to put your feet down instead of braking, this can lead to painful and embarrassing situations. Please keep the guffawing to a minimum as you read the rest of this tale.

Whilst on holiday in some lovely part of the country, Suffolk I think, the dad decides we should hire bicycles for the day. At the time I probably thought it was a great idea, it would soon become apparent that it was nothing of the sort.
Picture this, Dad in the lead whizzing round country roads followed by us lot (mum, sisters and me) when he signals that we should all stop. These were one way country roads and sometimes they proved to be rather dangerous. So immediately, instead of applying the brakes, I put my feet down and some how end up on the floor. That was bad enough, but did it end there? Oh no no no. Heather my younger sister had not even learnt to put her feet down to stop, let alone use the brakes. So guess what? She proceeded at speed to ride over my head and down the road until the dad stopped her.
Luckily enough I survived the incident with no injuries, apart from a few cuts. Oh! I nearly forgot to mention the big fuck off tread mark across my forehead! Did I get tea and sympathy? Did I heck as like. It became a family gem of a tale and I don't think I have ridden a bike since. Not that you could really blame me after that horror story.
So what now? Am I resigned to just these two feet of mine? Or do I attempt to mount a two wheeled steed once more? At least I could get a shiny new bike and a big pink helmet ( wow that sounds wrong). Do they do bicycle lessons for buffoons?

I suppose this falls under the category of 'Doing things that could make you look foolish, but you want to anyways' kind of thing.

Other News:

In a recent blog post I requested your votes to send me on a penguin filled adventure. Whilst it it something that I would love to do, it is becoming abundantly clear that I will not be winning. The company will get a shit load of publicity and I will get nothing, so sod that for a lark. I will just have to wait my turn to molest the penguins and build the worlds biggest snowman

Heather the runner over-er has once again started blogging, it will probably last about a week, but you never know. At the moment she needs advice on teapots, teacups and wedding invites, so let the hordes descend on her blog.

Mumborg update: It is always fun in mumborg world. I have lost count how long she has been in this time, month and a half I think. Time flies when you are having fun and all that.

Previously in mumborg world....

Doctor type person: We shall let any infection clear up before/if we operate again.
Mumborg: Okay

Present day in mumborg world:

Doctor type person: Oh it looks like you have an infection, we better operate!
Mumborg: Okay

My opinion on the matter? I have to wonder at the doctor type persons thinking on all things mumborg. I know she is a difficult case, but it is getting increasingly frustrating when they appear to have no clue on how to handle the mumborg. The mumborg manages to stay cheery no matter what, which further proves my theory that she is in fact a clone gone wrong.

Latest news: Awaiting swab results, if there is any infection they will operate.

Errant Eyebrows and Therapy

2009-07-10T23:53:00.001+01:00

Click to biggify and see in all its glory

This post is approved by the BAEEA - British Association of Errant Eyebrow Abuse. If you know of anyone that has suffered from this shameful affliction or imposed it onto someone else (Grandma's I am looking at you) please don't hesitate to get in touch.

This has actually no meaning at all, just some random thoughts squished into a incoherent post. It all started when I was thinking the other day about what I lose the most frequently (marbles excluded) and came up with keys, phone and tweezers.
Why tweezers? Do I have hideously overgrown mono-brow like tendencies? Actually no I don't, but there was a time when I thought I did. My dad and my younger sister suffer severely from errant eyebrow syndrome, lots of pictures to prove it too. The older sister on the otherhand went the other way and suffered for years with 'Holy Plucked Off' syndrome. Somewhere in the midst of all that she convinced me that I had a monobrow, not sure how she did it. Well maybe by saying something like this:

You look like a boy with eyebrows like that!

Yes she was in fact being a bitch and I plucked my eyebrows to death. It literally took years for the buggers to grow back properly and every now and then an errant little bugger appears. It then sets off mono-brow nightmare flashes and I have to pluck it out immediately!

Do you have any errant eyebrow stories? Would a therapists errant eyebrows put you off?

Other news:

Have you checked out my penguin post and voted for me?

Mumborg is still in hospital, still losing blood, still has two legs for now and still waiting for the surgeons to make a ruddy decision. Other than that she is tickety boo.

College work progress is still going slow, but I will get there! Got a placement appointment for a week on Monday for the local cancer support centre, which I am really looking forward too.

Penguins, ponderings and picking me.

2009-07-04T23:59:00.003+01:00

Since the moonwalk finished I have been pondering what to do next that may be adventurous and/or challenging. Even though it hurt like a bugger at some points in the walk(about 24 miles out of 26.2), I still finished it. The buzz that you get from actually finishing an event is unbelievably good and worth the pain. I have felt that since then I can achieve anything I set my mind too. Although I may have to accept at some point that I can not actually win the 100m gold medal at the next Olympics. Also there is that small problem of not swimming that well and needing stabilisers for my bicycle.

So what next? Penguins, penguins and more penguins (hopefully).
What? I know you are now worried that I am going to jump in the penguin enclosure of the local zoo and molest some poor flightless creatures! Don't be daft, I am trying to to travel to their homeland and molest them insitu! I spotted a competition today that seemed to good to pass up, it offers you the chance to get an expedition to Antarctica all expenses paid and you get to blog about it. I think I could just about manage the blogging part, you think?

My entry:

I wasn't born with an adventurous soul; it is something that has happened over time. Well some would call it adventurous and some would call it buffoonery, I prefer adventurous. Over the last few years I have developed a more pronounced wander lust and that has been reserved to armchair travelling via nature and travel documentaries up till now. After recently doing the MoonWalk, a 26.2 mile power walk for Breast Cancer charities, I felt invincible! Well my feet didn’t, but I had gotten bitten by a bug that filled my mind with the ‘I can do anything!’ spirit. Okay anything may be stretching it as I am a rubbish swimmer and can hardly ride a bike, but you know the thought is there.

Why Antarctica? Well bird watching and I have had a difficult journey; from the moment I could walk I was forced into the world of twitching by my father and granddad. Car journeys from one end of the country to the other end in record time, was not what I would call fun. Especially when the lesser potted whatnot had flown off, or had been eaten by somebody’s cat.

So the ultimate revenge would be to go to place that they both would have loved to have gone! Well that would be rather mean of me; I would probably have to take the dad. I can’t take the granddad, well except in spirit, so that still only takes up two places.

I will shamelessly use my dad’s vast array of birdlike knowledge to inform and amaze folks with Antarctic facts and figures. Along with photographs, writings and my speciality of doodles! Also I have been blogging for a fair while now and can ramble with the best of folks

Click this for FREE PENGUINS (or to vote for me)

Voting does require registering and I know how much you love that.... But please do it! It does not involve spam. I will bring you back a snowball or something.

I know the chance of me winning is slim to none, but it is somewhere that the dad has always wanted to go and it would be most excellent to go on an expedition with him. Even though this is something he would run off and do by himself. Just think how cool it would be to send me to a place like that! I could fall in the sea and freeze my pants off. The competition is stiff, as a lot of the fellow entries are professional writer types and/or people that have travelled extensively. I say boooooo to them, send a total novice instead, much more fun I thinks.

Moonshuffling to the end

2009-06-28T23:58:00.000+01:00

Where was I? Ahh yes temporarily I had buoyed my spirits with freeze spray, painkillers and tunes! Thus making miles 13 - 17 my fastest to date. During this time the sun also came up, glistening over the water and twas a lovely site to behold. I was seriously tempted to run into the sea and ~~drown myself~~ stick my toes in the water, but decided that would be a bad idea. So I used my camera phone to snap a few shots and plodded on.
Well I should say it was lovely at first, then it started to get bloody warm! Where was the rain? the clouds? a bloody breeze? Hot, lovely sunshine is all well and good for larking about in the park, but not when one is ~~shuffling~~ power walking like they have never power walked before! Thank goodness I have a sunny disposition, otherwise it would appear that I was a total miserable sod. Sunny disposition in my case was plenty of water, fresh orange slices at mile markers and happy smiling faces (not mine). On approaching mile marker 19, I met up with some girls that I know from the walk the walk forum, so plodded on with them. They were decidedly in better shape than I and were excited to be approaching mile marker 20.

Supposedly at Mile Marker Twenty a sense of uber calmness and elatedness descends upon you like a thousand angel wings providing a cool breeze. I may of ever so slightly exagerated the wonderment that is mile marker twenty, but it was definitely a woop woop moment for a lot of people. Why not for me? The pain and tiredness due to severe lack of training was screaming in my ear. My nasty inner voice was whispering "You still have 6.2 miles to go! still not just! you lazy sod!", my nasty inner voice is a right sod. Luckily for me,from deep within my being a competitive streak was sparked just ever so slightly at the prospect of keeping up with people.
The last 6.2 miles seem to take an age, heading back into the city of Edinburgh with the sun blazing and seeing all the sights that had been shrouded in darkness hours before. Edinburgh is truly a lovely city surrounded by greeness and beautiful architecture. Of course I was not really paying attention at the time because I was concentraing on putting one foot in front of the other. The cheeriness and enthusiam of the volunteers that are spreadout throughout the course is really a nice boost when you are flagging, even though they lie about how close you are to the next mile marker (cheeky buggers). They might not of actually been lying but boy did one mile feel like ten towrds the end! Oh and the curbs! Stepping up and down curbs is like torture towards the end.
Not sure when it dawned on me that I was actually going to finish the challenge, I think it was only as I recieved my medal, sat on the floor and took off my trainers!

As I sat on the grass with my medal and bare hobbit like feet, I felt like shedding a tear or two but was not sure why. I felt emotional because I had finsihed it , but also because I hadn't had enough faith in myself that I would finish it. My fears were not unfounded, because I had been so poorly prepared for it, with excuses abound from the mumborg to college work. So after a moment of melancholy I popped my blisters, squirted blister juice in my face (yuck), used the glorious freeze spray and felt at one with the world. Then I tried to stand up.......