I have just received a text message from my dentist, reminding me that I am due a check-up at the surgery.
I love how instead of getting an unintelligible voicemail, I get a nice polite text.
However, the reality of the situation is that I will not in fact be going for my check-up at the dentist anytime soon, as I quite simply cannot afford another £174 bill.
Anyway, I had the most marvellous weekend of seeing London Aunt, The Good Guy, SuperCathyFragileMystic and The Photographer. Friday night saw London Aunt and I toasting the most fabulous news, while Saturday saw shopping and dinner in Notting Hill with SCFM and The Photographer.
There was drinking, and erm… drinking and it was a miracle I kept my eyes open due to the fact that I had been up since 7am on Saturday.
And here’s why:
I am a girl of many shoes, bags and coats. And nothing goes better with this than gloves and scarves. However, after the demise of my coat stand – it didn’t survive the second fall, despite being held together with electrical tape and wall brackets – I decided that I needed a new storage solution in my narrow hall.
This came in the form of a shoe cupboard from Homebase, which once ordered had a delivery window of 7am to 3pm on Saturday.
Now, this is all very well and good, except that I can barely hear my door buzzer when I am awake, let alone when I am asleep, so it was with dread that I set my vibrating alarm clock to awake me at 7am on Saturday so that I could be ready and waiting in anticipation for the arrival of my cupboard.
Two hours passed. At 9am I was starting to flag when I suddenly heard the buzzer. Hurrah! It was finally here and I could go back to bed.
Wrong!
I was now completely awake and so all I could do instead was set to work building the cupboard, which took one hour, several screws and a good deal of hammering. What satisfyingly enjoyable work it was… although probably less so for my neighbour below as the fiftieth nail got hammered in to the back panel.
Sunday saw the hammering taking place inside my skull as I awoke at 7am facedown in my pillow from a fitful night’s sleep dreaming that I was going bald. It wasn’t fun. This then meant that the next two hours were spent on the sofa attempting to turn the wine content in my body back into water…
After succeeding this, I went to London Aunt’s, where she and The Good Guy was on hand to make hangover sandwiches, hangover pasta and hangover tea, which actually means that I am raring to go and looking forward very much to seeing Fab Friend this evening.
Phew!
See you tomorrow peeps.
Monday, 31 January 2011
Friday, 28 January 2011
My amazing Pa
Today, is Bro Bro and Maxi-Clog’s wedding anniversary.
This time five years ago, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and it was very much below freezing on the temperature scale.
It was a truly amazing day – we ate, drank and were merry; feasting on chocolate brownie cake and sipping bubbles.
Memories of that day still filter back whenever I hear the music Big Bro and Maxi Clog had for their first dance, and many of the special touches I have passed on to friends as great ideas to incorporate in their own big days.
What this anniversary also means is that it’s five years since Pa redesigned his nose and eye socket on the bar in the hotel where the wedding was being held. There we were, the morning after the wedding, when we suddenly heard an almighty crash and I saw Pa, flying through the air towards the bar, which he duly head-butted and actually dented.
It wasn’t the best end to the weekend. Alas, we had to leave him and Ma in hospital and return to the UK without them as he had cocaine-soaked sheets stuffed up his nose to numb it before they gradually realigned the shattered pieces.
And so, it’s kinda odd that five years almost to the day, my Pa is back in hospital, but this time instead of a newly designed nose, he has a newly-designed hip! And not only that, but he’s doing so well with it that they are letting him out today, just three days after the operation.
Amazing!
My Pa’s resilience to everything life throws at him never ceases to amaze me. He is quite fabulous, and I hope that when he reads this, he gives himself a pat on the back for getting through this latest challenge with amazing gusto.
And so I guess today, on Thankful Friday, I am thankful for my amazing Pa! He's quite splendid and I can't wait to see him, and his new hip, soon.
DG
x
This time five years ago, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and it was very much below freezing on the temperature scale.
It was a truly amazing day – we ate, drank and were merry; feasting on chocolate brownie cake and sipping bubbles.
Memories of that day still filter back whenever I hear the music Big Bro and Maxi Clog had for their first dance, and many of the special touches I have passed on to friends as great ideas to incorporate in their own big days.
What this anniversary also means is that it’s five years since Pa redesigned his nose and eye socket on the bar in the hotel where the wedding was being held. There we were, the morning after the wedding, when we suddenly heard an almighty crash and I saw Pa, flying through the air towards the bar, which he duly head-butted and actually dented.
It wasn’t the best end to the weekend. Alas, we had to leave him and Ma in hospital and return to the UK without them as he had cocaine-soaked sheets stuffed up his nose to numb it before they gradually realigned the shattered pieces.
And so, it’s kinda odd that five years almost to the day, my Pa is back in hospital, but this time instead of a newly designed nose, he has a newly-designed hip! And not only that, but he’s doing so well with it that they are letting him out today, just three days after the operation.
Amazing!
My Pa’s resilience to everything life throws at him never ceases to amaze me. He is quite fabulous, and I hope that when he reads this, he gives himself a pat on the back for getting through this latest challenge with amazing gusto.
And so I guess today, on Thankful Friday, I am thankful for my amazing Pa! He's quite splendid and I can't wait to see him, and his new hip, soon.
DG
x
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Deafinitely Girly does dating
Recently, something has been doing my head in.
I’ve been consistently single for too long.
Rather than wallowing, I’ve been trying to be more proactive and talk to people in bars and stuff, but it’s always slightly disastrous and trying to hear over the thudding music gives me a rabbit caught in headlights look, which is not exactly a know flirting technique.
Looking back at my dating history, I’ve never been very good at flirting or indeed getting the guy.
One of the things I find when I am in bars, chatting to people is that my mind goes totally blank. London Aunt finds this too, so perhaps it’s not just a deaf thing; perhaps it’s a genetic thing. London Aunt for example once started talking to a guy about The Shipping News – not the book, not the movie, but the real life Shipping News that plays nightly on BBC World Service.
I can totally relate to this. If I can’t follow the conversation, I find myself nodding with a vacant look on my face before changing the subject to something I can follow – but in a panic this will be something insanely random such as fixing my leaking shower door.
But worse still, if I can follow the conversation, I will be so afraid of losing track of what’s going on that I will stare intently at the poor guy not daring to interrupt. Once I was talking to a guy who thought I was on drugs as I didn’t blink during the entire conversation as I was so worried I’d miss something.
And then of course there’s always the ‘I-need-to-lipread-you snog error’ which has happened to me more times that I’d like to recall. It goes like this: You meet a guy you like in a bar. It’s really noisy so he talks to your ear. You tell him a few times that he needs to look at your face so you can lipread him. He keeps forgetting. Eventually, tired of having someone screech down your ear, you move his face with your hands to face yours. He then reads this as an invitation to kiss you and moves in for the kill. On one particular night, I had three of these within half an hour of each other, all of whom where huffy with me for apparently moving on so fast!!!!!
I have NO idea what to do to get a date. I mean I’m not desperate to get married or anything, but a date would be nice. Where should I go to meet guys in an environment where I can hear and not blurt out my latest DIY disaster? Should I join a club? Take up a new hobby? Do a team sport?
Or…
…perhaps I should put someone else in charge of my love life for a while to see if they do any better?
So that’s it. I’m throwing open the vacancy of DG’s Dating Guru to all applications. Please email me your credentials and ideas to deafinitelygirly@gmail.com and I’ll let you know how I get on.
There must be a guy out there for me somewhere surely?
I’ve been consistently single for too long.
Rather than wallowing, I’ve been trying to be more proactive and talk to people in bars and stuff, but it’s always slightly disastrous and trying to hear over the thudding music gives me a rabbit caught in headlights look, which is not exactly a know flirting technique.
Looking back at my dating history, I’ve never been very good at flirting or indeed getting the guy.
One of the things I find when I am in bars, chatting to people is that my mind goes totally blank. London Aunt finds this too, so perhaps it’s not just a deaf thing; perhaps it’s a genetic thing. London Aunt for example once started talking to a guy about The Shipping News – not the book, not the movie, but the real life Shipping News that plays nightly on BBC World Service.
I can totally relate to this. If I can’t follow the conversation, I find myself nodding with a vacant look on my face before changing the subject to something I can follow – but in a panic this will be something insanely random such as fixing my leaking shower door.
But worse still, if I can follow the conversation, I will be so afraid of losing track of what’s going on that I will stare intently at the poor guy not daring to interrupt. Once I was talking to a guy who thought I was on drugs as I didn’t blink during the entire conversation as I was so worried I’d miss something.
And then of course there’s always the ‘I-need-to-lipread-you snog error’ which has happened to me more times that I’d like to recall. It goes like this: You meet a guy you like in a bar. It’s really noisy so he talks to your ear. You tell him a few times that he needs to look at your face so you can lipread him. He keeps forgetting. Eventually, tired of having someone screech down your ear, you move his face with your hands to face yours. He then reads this as an invitation to kiss you and moves in for the kill. On one particular night, I had three of these within half an hour of each other, all of whom where huffy with me for apparently moving on so fast!!!!!
I have NO idea what to do to get a date. I mean I’m not desperate to get married or anything, but a date would be nice. Where should I go to meet guys in an environment where I can hear and not blurt out my latest DIY disaster? Should I join a club? Take up a new hobby? Do a team sport?
Or…
…perhaps I should put someone else in charge of my love life for a while to see if they do any better?
So that’s it. I’m throwing open the vacancy of DG’s Dating Guru to all applications. Please email me your credentials and ideas to deafinitelygirly@gmail.com and I’ll let you know how I get on.
There must be a guy out there for me somewhere surely?
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
My hearing and me
Whoa, this week has been non-stop so far, with barely any time to blog!!!!
Make that NO time to blog.
Anyway, yesterday, in-between the massive work deadlines on my mind, I was thinking of my Pa, who, due to a cancellation, had his hip replacement a week early.
It went well, I was pleased to discover, but I am still in awe of his bravery, as he had it done awake… with a spinal block.
Now I know millions of women have Caesareans this way, but to have your hip replaced and lie there listening to all the drilling, grinding, clanging and banging can’t be fun – especially when you’re paralysed from the waist down, so you can’t even get up and do a runner if it all gets too much.
It took a bit longer than usual apparently but eventually I had a text from Ma to say all had gone well, and she could see him. And the best bit was, there was no grogginess from the anesthetic, no declaring he was a horse at the top of his voice like a certain DG did after her surgery.
*blush
On the subject of hospitals, I’m going back to the hospital today for my three-month check-up. Having lost 6lb since my last visit, I hope I’m going to no longer be the only Crohn’s patient who actually puts on weight… And I also hope this visit will signal six-monthly checks from now on as all’s been nice and quiet of late.
While I am there, I will also pop in to the audiology clinic and see if I can make a new appointment to get my ears checked out. As Fab Friend pointed out, in the two odd years since I was last there, there’s bound to have been some technological advancements in the world of hearing aids, and you never know, one of them may be beneficial to me!
It would be interesting to hear more than I do now. But in many ways I am still quite reluctant to try…
You see I always have this overwhelming sadness after wearing hearing aids and then taking them out, that the world I have loved and tried to listen to for the last 30 years, sounds completely different. It makes me feel quite panicky.
Silly really. But perhaps a part of me thinks that if I get by on what I have, and don’t really miss it or indeed know what I am missing, then is there really any point in cranking up the volume?
I think it’s a case of, yes it’s broken, but I don’t wanna fix it…
just yet!
Make that NO time to blog.
Anyway, yesterday, in-between the massive work deadlines on my mind, I was thinking of my Pa, who, due to a cancellation, had his hip replacement a week early.
It went well, I was pleased to discover, but I am still in awe of his bravery, as he had it done awake… with a spinal block.
Now I know millions of women have Caesareans this way, but to have your hip replaced and lie there listening to all the drilling, grinding, clanging and banging can’t be fun – especially when you’re paralysed from the waist down, so you can’t even get up and do a runner if it all gets too much.
It took a bit longer than usual apparently but eventually I had a text from Ma to say all had gone well, and she could see him. And the best bit was, there was no grogginess from the anesthetic, no declaring he was a horse at the top of his voice like a certain DG did after her surgery.
*blush
On the subject of hospitals, I’m going back to the hospital today for my three-month check-up. Having lost 6lb since my last visit, I hope I’m going to no longer be the only Crohn’s patient who actually puts on weight… And I also hope this visit will signal six-monthly checks from now on as all’s been nice and quiet of late.
While I am there, I will also pop in to the audiology clinic and see if I can make a new appointment to get my ears checked out. As Fab Friend pointed out, in the two odd years since I was last there, there’s bound to have been some technological advancements in the world of hearing aids, and you never know, one of them may be beneficial to me!
It would be interesting to hear more than I do now. But in many ways I am still quite reluctant to try…
You see I always have this overwhelming sadness after wearing hearing aids and then taking them out, that the world I have loved and tried to listen to for the last 30 years, sounds completely different. It makes me feel quite panicky.
Silly really. But perhaps a part of me thinks that if I get by on what I have, and don’t really miss it or indeed know what I am missing, then is there really any point in cranking up the volume?
I think it’s a case of, yes it’s broken, but I don’t wanna fix it…
just yet!
Friday, 21 January 2011
I heart Fridays
I love Fridays and Fridays love me!
Simple!
I don't think there's ever been a Friday I wasn't thankful for in the almost three years since I've been writing this daily blog.
And on this Friday, a very exciting thing happened. I had my 30,000 visitor – as clocked by Sitemeter that is.
Amazing stuff!
So, on this already very Thankful and very sunny Friday, I thank you guys. For reading this. For checking in. And making my slightly non-sensical ramblings worth it!
Hurrah!
Have a good one peeps.
DG
x
Simple!
I don't think there's ever been a Friday I wasn't thankful for in the almost three years since I've been writing this daily blog.
And on this Friday, a very exciting thing happened. I had my 30,000 visitor – as clocked by Sitemeter that is.
Amazing stuff!
So, on this already very Thankful and very sunny Friday, I thank you guys. For reading this. For checking in. And making my slightly non-sensical ramblings worth it!
Hurrah!
Have a good one peeps.
DG
x
Thursday, 20 January 2011
Overhearing on the bus!
This blog is being brought to you live this morning because there’s a lady on the bus who is driving me, and the other people on the top deck craaaaazy! Sometimes I swear I am not deaf enough.
The offending lady is sprawled across two seats with her floaty skirts and handbag and is talking so loudly on her mobile phone that I can actually make out whole words that she’s saying, without even looking at her.
The lady next to me and I have exchange frustrated looks and I am insanely close to telling our travelling companion to put a sock in it.
I cannot stand people like this woman. They simply do not care about anyone else around them. Ooh, and update: we just had a blissful moment of silence when she got cut off but now she’s at it again, nattering, chattering, gossiping at the volume level of a foghorn.
With phone call one out the way, she’s now moved on to phone call two. What in the world is so important that she has to broadcast it to the entire bus at top volume?!?!?!
I just caught the sentence: ‘So we will see, we’ll see!’ which signalled the end of that phone call.
And on to phone call number three.
Now, phone calls on the bus are OK in an emergency. But vapid rambling conversation? Really? Is the woman really that incapable of amusing herself for 30 minutes on the bus without making it awful for everyone else?
‘Oooh it’s complicated, really complicated!’ she’s bleating AT THE TOP OF HER VOICE! Before going on to repeat that sentence over and over again.
In some ways, if I’m looking for the silver lining in all this, it’s actually quite exciting for me. Rarely does someone speak clearly and loudly enough that I can eavesdrop what they are saying. In fact, I think it is my first time.
Amazing!
But honestly, right now I feel incredibly lucky that usually, very present company excepted, I largely travel in peace and quiet; unaware of people’s drama being played out on public transport, unaware of how sodding complicated something is and being made to listen to how complicated it is 50 times.
Hearing people, I salute and commend you for not committing acts of verbal violence against idiots chatting loudly on the bus. If I had hearing, I’m not sure I’d be so restrained!
The offending lady is sprawled across two seats with her floaty skirts and handbag and is talking so loudly on her mobile phone that I can actually make out whole words that she’s saying, without even looking at her.
The lady next to me and I have exchange frustrated looks and I am insanely close to telling our travelling companion to put a sock in it.
I cannot stand people like this woman. They simply do not care about anyone else around them. Ooh, and update: we just had a blissful moment of silence when she got cut off but now she’s at it again, nattering, chattering, gossiping at the volume level of a foghorn.
With phone call one out the way, she’s now moved on to phone call two. What in the world is so important that she has to broadcast it to the entire bus at top volume?!?!?!
I just caught the sentence: ‘So we will see, we’ll see!’ which signalled the end of that phone call.
And on to phone call number three.
Now, phone calls on the bus are OK in an emergency. But vapid rambling conversation? Really? Is the woman really that incapable of amusing herself for 30 minutes on the bus without making it awful for everyone else?
‘Oooh it’s complicated, really complicated!’ she’s bleating AT THE TOP OF HER VOICE! Before going on to repeat that sentence over and over again.
In some ways, if I’m looking for the silver lining in all this, it’s actually quite exciting for me. Rarely does someone speak clearly and loudly enough that I can eavesdrop what they are saying. In fact, I think it is my first time.
Amazing!
But honestly, right now I feel incredibly lucky that usually, very present company excepted, I largely travel in peace and quiet; unaware of people’s drama being played out on public transport, unaware of how sodding complicated something is and being made to listen to how complicated it is 50 times.
Hearing people, I salute and commend you for not committing acts of verbal violence against idiots chatting loudly on the bus. If I had hearing, I’m not sure I’d be so restrained!
Monday, 17 January 2011
When relying on websites goes wrong
This weekend I went to the Wild West erm… Country to visit Tigger, which was great fun. We ate curry, went for walks, and I got a magical mystery tour of various ancient fort, burial and religious sites, too!
Also living in the very same town as of this year, is an old uni mate called Lanky. He’s married to The Teacher and they have the most gorgeous little girl who has just turned 1.
It was great to see them all and wonderful reminiscing about our time in Pompey. I felt a pang of nostalgia for the old place even though only Uni Housemate and Christoph are the only ones left there.
*sniff
Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I hate the reverse journey home after a lovely weekend. You know the feeling where you don’t want to leave so you know you should get the leaving done as quickly as possible.
So, with a lunchtime train booked, I was feeling quite umpty about the whole thing. I’d also been keeping an eye on the train status on my phone so I would know if it was delayed. So far that morning, all London-bound trains were listed as delayed.
This made me more umpty. Poor Tigger! In the end he took me for tea and cake, which made me less(ish) umpty but then… CANCELLED flashed up on my phone next to my train time!
DISASTER!
Tigger offered me a paper bag to breathe into.
Tigger then suggested we go to the station anyway to find out what was going on and weirdly, there was my train, listed, and actually waiting on the platform for me.
Cue the realisation that the National Rail website I use as the font of all travel knowledge, is WRONG!
I tweeted them to ask why they had got wrong info on the site but had no reply, but I only hope it was a one-time error.
And the journey? My empty train chugged through the countryside back to London in perfect time, even depositing me at Clapham in time to get a connecting train home.
AMAZING!
So what have I learnt this weekend? How to tell the difference between buzzards and other birds; where the mole is at the fairy rings; not to stress about my train from three hours before; that Tiggers get you places on time; never to look at National Rail’s website for reassurance as it won’t be there, and finally that millionaires shortbread tastes much better when shared.
Also living in the very same town as of this year, is an old uni mate called Lanky. He’s married to The Teacher and they have the most gorgeous little girl who has just turned 1.
It was great to see them all and wonderful reminiscing about our time in Pompey. I felt a pang of nostalgia for the old place even though only Uni Housemate and Christoph are the only ones left there.
*sniff
Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I hate the reverse journey home after a lovely weekend. You know the feeling where you don’t want to leave so you know you should get the leaving done as quickly as possible.
So, with a lunchtime train booked, I was feeling quite umpty about the whole thing. I’d also been keeping an eye on the train status on my phone so I would know if it was delayed. So far that morning, all London-bound trains were listed as delayed.
This made me more umpty. Poor Tigger! In the end he took me for tea and cake, which made me less(ish) umpty but then… CANCELLED flashed up on my phone next to my train time!
DISASTER!
Tigger offered me a paper bag to breathe into.
Tigger then suggested we go to the station anyway to find out what was going on and weirdly, there was my train, listed, and actually waiting on the platform for me.
Cue the realisation that the National Rail website I use as the font of all travel knowledge, is WRONG!
I tweeted them to ask why they had got wrong info on the site but had no reply, but I only hope it was a one-time error.
And the journey? My empty train chugged through the countryside back to London in perfect time, even depositing me at Clapham in time to get a connecting train home.
AMAZING!
So what have I learnt this weekend? How to tell the difference between buzzards and other birds; where the mole is at the fairy rings; not to stress about my train from three hours before; that Tiggers get you places on time; never to look at National Rail’s website for reassurance as it won’t be there, and finally that millionaires shortbread tastes much better when shared.
Friday, 14 January 2011
My Thankful Friday List
Today is Thankful Friday and I am thankful for the following:
Wooly hats to keep the rain off my hair
The anti-Atkins diet – it means I get to eat the muffin from The Boss’s breakfast every morning
New winter boots
My flashing phone ringer – makes every day seem like disco day
Subtitles on the bus – this morning it let me know we were being held briefly in order to help regulate the service
Gorgeous men on tube trains – quite a treat on my journey home last night
Marks & Spencer’s soup – I will lose the Christmas pounds
Big Bro, who has sent me a Christmas present in the post
My fab friends, who this week have been keeping me sane and offering amazing advice
Secrets, because sometimes they're so exciting they cause you to skip down the street, smile at strangers and wake up grinning
And of course, Fridays. Because without Fridays there wouldn’t be a weekend and without a weekend, well, life would be rather dull.
I have a fab one planned. Hope you do, too.
DG
x
Wooly hats to keep the rain off my hair
The anti-Atkins diet – it means I get to eat the muffin from The Boss’s breakfast every morning
New winter boots
My flashing phone ringer – makes every day seem like disco day
Subtitles on the bus – this morning it let me know we were being held briefly in order to help regulate the service
Gorgeous men on tube trains – quite a treat on my journey home last night
Marks & Spencer’s soup – I will lose the Christmas pounds
Big Bro, who has sent me a Christmas present in the post
My fab friends, who this week have been keeping me sane and offering amazing advice
Secrets, because sometimes they're so exciting they cause you to skip down the street, smile at strangers and wake up grinning
And of course, Fridays. Because without Fridays there wouldn’t be a weekend and without a weekend, well, life would be rather dull.
I have a fab one planned. Hope you do, too.
DG
x
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
Deafinitely Girly's cooking disasters
Last night I bit the bullet and decided to go to a spinning class at my gym for the first time. I have always shied away from spinning, wondering if I’d be able to follow an instructor over the loud music. And honestly, I didn’t really have much clue what was going on, but I just mirrored him, tweaked the difficulty setting on my bike every now and again, and I LOVED it.
OK, so today I feel like I have dislocated hips and have done 80 lunges without a warm up, but no pain no gain, right?
This being brave and doing things I wouldn’t normally do is starting to pay off – what a brilliant resolution that was!
Take yesterday, I tried the spinning class, and as a result I really do feel one step closer to achieving my goal weight, losing the pounds that have crept on in the last year due to my complete inability to resist biscuits – custard creams mainly – Combos and Bush’s Baked Beans from America, and of course Wotsits!
Anyway, today is Wednesday, which is my favourite day of the week. It’s the middle. The weekend doesn’t seem quite so far away today. Just two more days!
This week though, I have been having daily kitchen disasters. It’s not been fun. First there was the erm… cooking in my underwear incident on Monday, which saw me throw a tub of vegetable curry soup over me, my kitchen and all my clothes – including my favourite white top. In a panic I took all my clothes off and shoved them, lots of Vanish and some washing power in the washing machine. Thirty minutes later, it was apparent that vegetable curry soup does not like coming out of white tops, and three washes later, I am close to giving up.
*Sniff
Then, yesterday, while trying not to throw beetroot soup down my remaining white top, I shut my fingers in the fridge. You see, my kitchen floor slopes somewhat and in order to get the fridge to shut I have to kind of swing for it. So I did, but forgot to move my hand out the way. It hurt, I jumped, and threw beetroot soup down my top. Cue, me cooking dinner in my underwear again.
Then this morning, I was making a boiled egg and picked up the pan in a hurry, burning my thumb in the process and throwing boiling water and the egg on my kitchen floor. Luckily the egg bounced, which I guess says something about my culinary prowess at being able to produce a soft-boiled egg. Trying to look on the bride side however, I concluded that at least the water was see through, and boiling(!), so at least I didn’t ruin yet another white top.
I don’t know what it is about me and the kitchen. Get me baking and it all goes to plan – the peeps whose wedding cakes I am making this year will be very glad to hear – but with everyday stuff, well I’m lucky if I come out with all my fingers still attached and an edible meal.
So from now on, my mantra is going to be – slow and steady. I’m going to look before I leap, before shaking soup cartons without lids on and before picking up hot pans without oven gloves, that way there might be less cooking in my underwear… and the neighbours can go back to curtain twitching someone else!
OK, so today I feel like I have dislocated hips and have done 80 lunges without a warm up, but no pain no gain, right?
This being brave and doing things I wouldn’t normally do is starting to pay off – what a brilliant resolution that was!
Take yesterday, I tried the spinning class, and as a result I really do feel one step closer to achieving my goal weight, losing the pounds that have crept on in the last year due to my complete inability to resist biscuits – custard creams mainly – Combos and Bush’s Baked Beans from America, and of course Wotsits!
Anyway, today is Wednesday, which is my favourite day of the week. It’s the middle. The weekend doesn’t seem quite so far away today. Just two more days!
This week though, I have been having daily kitchen disasters. It’s not been fun. First there was the erm… cooking in my underwear incident on Monday, which saw me throw a tub of vegetable curry soup over me, my kitchen and all my clothes – including my favourite white top. In a panic I took all my clothes off and shoved them, lots of Vanish and some washing power in the washing machine. Thirty minutes later, it was apparent that vegetable curry soup does not like coming out of white tops, and three washes later, I am close to giving up.
*Sniff
Then, yesterday, while trying not to throw beetroot soup down my remaining white top, I shut my fingers in the fridge. You see, my kitchen floor slopes somewhat and in order to get the fridge to shut I have to kind of swing for it. So I did, but forgot to move my hand out the way. It hurt, I jumped, and threw beetroot soup down my top. Cue, me cooking dinner in my underwear again.
Then this morning, I was making a boiled egg and picked up the pan in a hurry, burning my thumb in the process and throwing boiling water and the egg on my kitchen floor. Luckily the egg bounced, which I guess says something about my culinary prowess at being able to produce a soft-boiled egg. Trying to look on the bride side however, I concluded that at least the water was see through, and boiling(!), so at least I didn’t ruin yet another white top.
I don’t know what it is about me and the kitchen. Get me baking and it all goes to plan – the peeps whose wedding cakes I am making this year will be very glad to hear – but with everyday stuff, well I’m lucky if I come out with all my fingers still attached and an edible meal.
So from now on, my mantra is going to be – slow and steady. I’m going to look before I leap, before shaking soup cartons without lids on and before picking up hot pans without oven gloves, that way there might be less cooking in my underwear… and the neighbours can go back to curtain twitching someone else!
Monday, 10 January 2011
Giving my hearing a rest
What a lovely weekend I had. Alone! Apart from a fabulous afternoon walk around Hampstead Heath with Miss K yesterday, I didn’t speak to or see anyone else.
Occasionally I need weekends like this to recharge my hearing batteries and after a busy week of listening last week, that was exactly what I required. I find listening incredibly tiring. At school when I was statemented for what support I needed, they discovered I had the ability to lipread efficiently for 40 minutes before zoning out, dozing off and generally not paying attention anymore. And now I’m deafer than that, it may be less.
It’s not that I don’t like talking, I do, and those who know me will know I wasn’t named a chatterbox at school for nothing. It’s just that these days I seem to have a noticeably diminished listening threshold.
And that doesn’t just apply to conversations. I find it when watching TV, too. There’s only so much I can watch, matching the subtitles to the audio, before I’m fast asleep on the sofa. For this reason I tend to turn the volume right down, so I’m just reading not listening, too.
Anyway, one of the things I did this weekend was catch up on some TV that I recorded over Christmas. The last thing I needed to see was the Top Gear special, where they drove to Bethlehem. Now, regular readers will know that Top Gear subtitles rarely behave themselves. They are usually slow, often nonexistent and at best a combination of both that leaves me scrabbling to follow what is without a doubt my favourite programme on the box.
So on Saturday afternoon, I was slightly nervous about hitting play. But I needn’t have been as by some miracle, the subtitles were perfect. Not just perfect but consistently perfect, 100% completely in time with Jeremy Clarkson’s jabbering perfect!
It was brilliant.
It was a revelation. It made the totally ridiculous ending pale into inSTIGnificance. It made my day of hearing regeneration fabulous.
And so, as I ready my CV to apply for the vacancy of The Stig – think pink racing suit, pink helmet and erm… pink cars? – I’d just like to say ‘Thanks Top Gear; all is forgiven!’
Occasionally I need weekends like this to recharge my hearing batteries and after a busy week of listening last week, that was exactly what I required. I find listening incredibly tiring. At school when I was statemented for what support I needed, they discovered I had the ability to lipread efficiently for 40 minutes before zoning out, dozing off and generally not paying attention anymore. And now I’m deafer than that, it may be less.
It’s not that I don’t like talking, I do, and those who know me will know I wasn’t named a chatterbox at school for nothing. It’s just that these days I seem to have a noticeably diminished listening threshold.
And that doesn’t just apply to conversations. I find it when watching TV, too. There’s only so much I can watch, matching the subtitles to the audio, before I’m fast asleep on the sofa. For this reason I tend to turn the volume right down, so I’m just reading not listening, too.
Anyway, one of the things I did this weekend was catch up on some TV that I recorded over Christmas. The last thing I needed to see was the Top Gear special, where they drove to Bethlehem. Now, regular readers will know that Top Gear subtitles rarely behave themselves. They are usually slow, often nonexistent and at best a combination of both that leaves me scrabbling to follow what is without a doubt my favourite programme on the box.
So on Saturday afternoon, I was slightly nervous about hitting play. But I needn’t have been as by some miracle, the subtitles were perfect. Not just perfect but consistently perfect, 100% completely in time with Jeremy Clarkson’s jabbering perfect!
It was brilliant.
It was a revelation. It made the totally ridiculous ending pale into inSTIGnificance. It made my day of hearing regeneration fabulous.
And so, as I ready my CV to apply for the vacancy of The Stig – think pink racing suit, pink helmet and erm… pink cars? – I’d just like to say ‘Thanks Top Gear; all is forgiven!’
Friday, 7 January 2011
Not hearing in IKEA
Today is Thankful Friday and I am thankful the week is over.
I am also thankful for the most amazing news I got last night. There I was in IKEA with GBman and the Singing Swede eating meatballs – as you do – when GBman broke the news that he and the SS are engaged!
Hurrah!
Honestly, it couldn’t happen to two nicer people and naturally I was bouncing up and down with excitement at this news.
IKEA is a strange place to hangout on a Thursday night I know, but we all needed bits and bobs and it made sense to go together and support each other through the traumatic one-way system, the shock of realising that all those wonderfully cheap bits and bobs add up to rather more than you were anticipating, and me demanding Swedish translations of every single product I picked up!
IKEA is a deafness minefield though – its warehouse setting makes it very hard to hear anything and the multitude of accents of the staff means that even in the quietest of settings, I still wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on.
For example, in the café last night I wanted meatballs and salad. Somehow I ended up with meatballs and chips and no salad. And when I tried to rectify the situation I had no idea what the man behind the counter was saying. So I ate my chips and meatballs and wondered if this was the best way to be starting my new year diet.
Then, at the till the man asked me something and by that point I just decided to answer yes. No clue what I consented to or confirmed but it seemed the right answer given his raised expectant eyebrows.
Even the poor Singing Swede couldn’t interpret for me and she can hear, so this guy must have been really hard to understand.
It’s no wonder that I gravitate more and more towards the self-service sections in shops now. I don’t mind totting up my own shopping as it means I never miss the ‘Would you like a bag?’ question or answer no repeatedly, when they are actually asking me to insert my pin – I did the former in TopShop once and thought the till lady was going to deck me by the end of it.
At my local Sainsbury’s I can do a whole shop without needing to hear a single thing and even better I can’t even hear the annoying voice that ‘talks’ you through what you should be doing that well either.
Modern technology may be making people more antisocial – less ticket offices, paying at the pump for petrol, vending machines for absolutely everything, credit card hotels – but it is making my life so much easier, and for that I am extremely thankful.
I wonder what it’ll be like in 50 years time though. Maybe we’ll be having online consultations with our GPs, shopping will be done only via computers and IKEA will be staffed by multi-lingual subtitled robots. Come on, the last one would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?
I am also thankful for the most amazing news I got last night. There I was in IKEA with GBman and the Singing Swede eating meatballs – as you do – when GBman broke the news that he and the SS are engaged!
Hurrah!
Honestly, it couldn’t happen to two nicer people and naturally I was bouncing up and down with excitement at this news.
IKEA is a strange place to hangout on a Thursday night I know, but we all needed bits and bobs and it made sense to go together and support each other through the traumatic one-way system, the shock of realising that all those wonderfully cheap bits and bobs add up to rather more than you were anticipating, and me demanding Swedish translations of every single product I picked up!
IKEA is a deafness minefield though – its warehouse setting makes it very hard to hear anything and the multitude of accents of the staff means that even in the quietest of settings, I still wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on.
For example, in the café last night I wanted meatballs and salad. Somehow I ended up with meatballs and chips and no salad. And when I tried to rectify the situation I had no idea what the man behind the counter was saying. So I ate my chips and meatballs and wondered if this was the best way to be starting my new year diet.
Then, at the till the man asked me something and by that point I just decided to answer yes. No clue what I consented to or confirmed but it seemed the right answer given his raised expectant eyebrows.
Even the poor Singing Swede couldn’t interpret for me and she can hear, so this guy must have been really hard to understand.
It’s no wonder that I gravitate more and more towards the self-service sections in shops now. I don’t mind totting up my own shopping as it means I never miss the ‘Would you like a bag?’ question or answer no repeatedly, when they are actually asking me to insert my pin – I did the former in TopShop once and thought the till lady was going to deck me by the end of it.
At my local Sainsbury’s I can do a whole shop without needing to hear a single thing and even better I can’t even hear the annoying voice that ‘talks’ you through what you should be doing that well either.
Modern technology may be making people more antisocial – less ticket offices, paying at the pump for petrol, vending machines for absolutely everything, credit card hotels – but it is making my life so much easier, and for that I am extremely thankful.
I wonder what it’ll be like in 50 years time though. Maybe we’ll be having online consultations with our GPs, shopping will be done only via computers and IKEA will be staffed by multi-lingual subtitled robots. Come on, the last one would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Deafinitely Girly and the self-help books
Well, would you look at that: I go to bed in England and wake up to some very helpful comments on my blog about the subtitle situation. Apparently, Apple is not to blame – it’s the film companies I need to get bothering. So I intend to do just that and report back. Although, wouldn’t it be nice if Apple could put its foot down about only allowing accessible content with captions on iTunes? But then I guess there’d be nothing on there and it would be crap for business wouldn’t it?
Anyway, today as I have nothing more than that to report back until I do some research, get some email addresses and get asking questions, I have other things on my mind.
Last night Friend Who Knows Big Words came over for dinner. We had stir fry and cherry pie and chatted about my woeful dating situation. Friend Who Knows Big Words is married to French Boy. They got together 10 days before she was due to go to Central America without him for three months, and after that, well the rest is a happy ever after.
For Friend Who Knows Big Words, it is very simple. No games were played. French Boy liked her and she liked him. Now they are married.
Friend Who Knows Big Words and I were chatting about this last night and we were working out whether there was anything I could be doing to improve my dating track record. I decided it was time to venture to a little visited section of my bookshelf: The Self-Help section.
Now, apart from one exception (Women Who Worry) I have never bought a self-help book – but I have been given rather a lot of them over the years. Quite what this says about me I do not wish to imagine, but the two books I grabbed for Friend Who Knows Big Words to peruse were Stop Getting Dumped and She’s Scared He’s Scared: Understanding The Commitment Issues That Sabotage Your Relationships. The former is quite frankly the crappest book I have EVER read and was given to me by an ex work colleague 7 years ago. When I first got it, I thought it was a tongue-in-cheek look at dating, offering hilarious advice at how to get through the minefield that is relationships. But then I realised it was completely serious, shut it immediately and it’s been gathering dust ever since.
This book says things like ‘Get your hair done and look nice at all times’ and ‘To stop yourself from sleeping with someone on a first date, wear skanky pants and leave your legs hairy’ – which one is it? Look great or skanky? Or is it ‘Look great on the surface but skanky underneath’?
It also says that you should never call a man (I don’t but still get dumped), never make the first move (I rarely do but still get dumped), and eat healthily and exercise (what the hell has that got to do with getting dumped?). After 30 hilarious minutes of reading this book last night, it got dumped… in my recycling bin. But the weirdest part is, it promises your money back if you’re not married in three years. What kind of scary marriage-obsessed people are being cultivated as a result of this book? It all sounds like a lot of manipulation to me.
The other book, the commitment one, was given to me by French Aunt. She knows me well. She knows my commitment issues – I can rarely commit to myself, let alone anyone else, and actually this book might have something useful in it. But I can’t commit to it right now, so that is the end of that.
I think the thing is with me is that I don’t take dating seriously, nor do I think that dating should be taken seriously. I mean, the idea of making finding a man a project HORRIFIES me! It goes against every stubborn strain of independence in my body, and that’s from a girl who still has her childhood teddy bear!
I’m not going to actively go out there and seek Mister Right, because if I do, I might accidentally shoehorn Mister Wrong into Mister Right’s erm… shoes. I don’t actively go out looking to make friends and yet, I’ve done OK in that I’ve made some excellent ones, in the most unexpected places. And what’s also interesting was that when I met those friends for the first time, I didn’t instantly decide we were going to be best friends, nor did we share the intimate secrets that we now do. It’s a slow process. And I think the same should apply to falling in love.
Don’t get me wrong though, I have friends who work very successfully from self-help books – I am sometimes envious of the fact it works for them – but these books just don't seem to suit my personality. I want to kick against them in the same way as a teenager you wanted to kick against well-meaning advice from your school guidance counseller – when mine told me to have smaller ambitions on account of my deafness, I certainly kicked against that.
What's more, I don’t want to know why some men can’t love or why men are from Mars and women are from Venus. I am interested in the now – and there’s probably some self-help book about that that I should read – but I am not going to.
I don't doubt that there is most certainly a nice guy out there somewhere who I could probably date quite successfully without freaking out about whether I have enough room in my life for him. And in the meantime? I am here. I have my own life, my own friends, my own ambitions and my own dreams. If he rocks up somewhere along the way, then great – I hope he too has his own life, his own friends, his own ambitions and his own dreams. And if he doesn’t show up? Well I don’t want a self-help book to tell me how to deal with that. I just will.
Anyway, today as I have nothing more than that to report back until I do some research, get some email addresses and get asking questions, I have other things on my mind.
Last night Friend Who Knows Big Words came over for dinner. We had stir fry and cherry pie and chatted about my woeful dating situation. Friend Who Knows Big Words is married to French Boy. They got together 10 days before she was due to go to Central America without him for three months, and after that, well the rest is a happy ever after.
For Friend Who Knows Big Words, it is very simple. No games were played. French Boy liked her and she liked him. Now they are married.
Friend Who Knows Big Words and I were chatting about this last night and we were working out whether there was anything I could be doing to improve my dating track record. I decided it was time to venture to a little visited section of my bookshelf: The Self-Help section.
Now, apart from one exception (Women Who Worry) I have never bought a self-help book – but I have been given rather a lot of them over the years. Quite what this says about me I do not wish to imagine, but the two books I grabbed for Friend Who Knows Big Words to peruse were Stop Getting Dumped and She’s Scared He’s Scared: Understanding The Commitment Issues That Sabotage Your Relationships. The former is quite frankly the crappest book I have EVER read and was given to me by an ex work colleague 7 years ago. When I first got it, I thought it was a tongue-in-cheek look at dating, offering hilarious advice at how to get through the minefield that is relationships. But then I realised it was completely serious, shut it immediately and it’s been gathering dust ever since.
This book says things like ‘Get your hair done and look nice at all times’ and ‘To stop yourself from sleeping with someone on a first date, wear skanky pants and leave your legs hairy’ – which one is it? Look great or skanky? Or is it ‘Look great on the surface but skanky underneath’?
It also says that you should never call a man (I don’t but still get dumped), never make the first move (I rarely do but still get dumped), and eat healthily and exercise (what the hell has that got to do with getting dumped?). After 30 hilarious minutes of reading this book last night, it got dumped… in my recycling bin. But the weirdest part is, it promises your money back if you’re not married in three years. What kind of scary marriage-obsessed people are being cultivated as a result of this book? It all sounds like a lot of manipulation to me.
The other book, the commitment one, was given to me by French Aunt. She knows me well. She knows my commitment issues – I can rarely commit to myself, let alone anyone else, and actually this book might have something useful in it. But I can’t commit to it right now, so that is the end of that.
I think the thing is with me is that I don’t take dating seriously, nor do I think that dating should be taken seriously. I mean, the idea of making finding a man a project HORRIFIES me! It goes against every stubborn strain of independence in my body, and that’s from a girl who still has her childhood teddy bear!
I’m not going to actively go out there and seek Mister Right, because if I do, I might accidentally shoehorn Mister Wrong into Mister Right’s erm… shoes. I don’t actively go out looking to make friends and yet, I’ve done OK in that I’ve made some excellent ones, in the most unexpected places. And what’s also interesting was that when I met those friends for the first time, I didn’t instantly decide we were going to be best friends, nor did we share the intimate secrets that we now do. It’s a slow process. And I think the same should apply to falling in love.
Don’t get me wrong though, I have friends who work very successfully from self-help books – I am sometimes envious of the fact it works for them – but these books just don't seem to suit my personality. I want to kick against them in the same way as a teenager you wanted to kick against well-meaning advice from your school guidance counseller – when mine told me to have smaller ambitions on account of my deafness, I certainly kicked against that.
What's more, I don’t want to know why some men can’t love or why men are from Mars and women are from Venus. I am interested in the now – and there’s probably some self-help book about that that I should read – but I am not going to.
I don't doubt that there is most certainly a nice guy out there somewhere who I could probably date quite successfully without freaking out about whether I have enough room in my life for him. And in the meantime? I am here. I have my own life, my own friends, my own ambitions and my own dreams. If he rocks up somewhere along the way, then great – I hope he too has his own life, his own friends, his own ambitions and his own dreams. And if he doesn’t show up? Well I don’t want a self-help book to tell me how to deal with that. I just will.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Lack of captions/subtitles on iTunes
Over Christmas I downloaded an app for my iPhone called The 12 Days of Christmas, which promised a free download for 12 days from Boxing Day onwards.
Great! Huh?
Wrong!
OK, so there have been some good free music tracks but there has also been three unsubtitled TV shows/movies that are useless to me!
I don't understand what the deal with Apple and iTunes and its lack of subtitles. I mean, it's an American company. I thought that it was even more compulsory to be disability aware in the USA than it is here... no?
I have actually written to the iTunes peeps about this several times but have had no reply, which is not surprising but is frustrating.
Google searches tell me that there are ways to now embed your own subtitles into things, but I don't understand how this works and my head starts spinning like it used to do in maths GCSE whenever I look into it.
And the thing is, if the general public are able to do this – technophobe me excluded – then why can't a massive corporation like Apple full of technical experts sort this out?
It frustrates me when companies think they are doing OK in terms of making their services great for people with disabilities and are not open to improvement or change. I'm not saying this is true of Apple, but iTunes is eight years old this year and as far as I'm aware subtitles have been around a whole lot longer so I do wonder why it hasn't done anything yet.
My latest search revealed there was one new release subtitled movie on iTunes – Knight & Day with Tom Cruise in it – and that is it!
Why is it possible to subtitle this one and none of the others?
Apple is missing out on a huge market here. I mean my lack of ability to make conversation in cars and on any form of transport means I often look to my phone for a way of passing the time. If I could download subtitled stuff for it, well I'd spend a whole lot more money and I'm pretty sure a lot of other people would too.
I’ve hit a brick wall with this. I do not know where to go to get answers, or even if there are any. Why aren’t movies subtitled on iTunes? Is it because it’s too expensive?
And that is what I’m going to find out!
Great! Huh?
Wrong!
OK, so there have been some good free music tracks but there has also been three unsubtitled TV shows/movies that are useless to me!
I don't understand what the deal with Apple and iTunes and its lack of subtitles. I mean, it's an American company. I thought that it was even more compulsory to be disability aware in the USA than it is here... no?
I have actually written to the iTunes peeps about this several times but have had no reply, which is not surprising but is frustrating.
Google searches tell me that there are ways to now embed your own subtitles into things, but I don't understand how this works and my head starts spinning like it used to do in maths GCSE whenever I look into it.
And the thing is, if the general public are able to do this – technophobe me excluded – then why can't a massive corporation like Apple full of technical experts sort this out?
It frustrates me when companies think they are doing OK in terms of making their services great for people with disabilities and are not open to improvement or change. I'm not saying this is true of Apple, but iTunes is eight years old this year and as far as I'm aware subtitles have been around a whole lot longer so I do wonder why it hasn't done anything yet.
My latest search revealed there was one new release subtitled movie on iTunes – Knight & Day with Tom Cruise in it – and that is it!
Why is it possible to subtitle this one and none of the others?
Apple is missing out on a huge market here. I mean my lack of ability to make conversation in cars and on any form of transport means I often look to my phone for a way of passing the time. If I could download subtitled stuff for it, well I'd spend a whole lot more money and I'm pretty sure a lot of other people would too.
I’ve hit a brick wall with this. I do not know where to go to get answers, or even if there are any. Why aren’t movies subtitled on iTunes? Is it because it’s too expensive?
And that is what I’m going to find out!
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Happy New Year from Deafinitely Girly
Today is my first day back to work after the long Christmas break, and the vibration of my alarm clock was the most unwelcome wake-up call ever at 7am.
It's been a strange Christmas – taking the failed ski holiday into account and MPA-boy's departure – but there have also been some amazing times, too.
On Christmas Day, Nottnum Uncle made Christmas dinner for The Rents, me and Gma and we did traditional things like watching the Queen's speech and falling asleep on the sofa.
I also got to welcome 2011 into the world with the Singing Swede, GBman, Guitar Boy and his wife, which for me included making my first cheesecake, of which I ate most of it!!
We made our resolutions and one of mine is to learn how to play the guitar – Guitar Boy has very kindly offered to lend me one of his to get me started – and another is to be true to my heart and go after what I want, not what I think I want.
Then on Sunday, SuperCathyFragileMystic and The Photographer called in unannounced, and after a quick chat they cancelled their plans to drive to the Wild West Erm... Country and we had a veritable feast of roast duck, mashed potato and champagne by the bottleful – three bottles full to be exact!
It was the most wonderfully fabulous evening of hilarity, which made yesterday's incredible hangover totally worth it.
The Singing Swede joined me on the sofa for a SATC marathon and I arranged dinner with Fab Friend for this week and text chatted to NikNak who saw in the new year by giving birth to the very gorgeous Baby K!
All in all, I feel ready to face 2011. Not because I feel particularly happy or joyous right now, but because I feel blessed! Blessed by the amazing people in my life.
A sentimental way to start 2011? Yes. But never fear, Deafinitely Girly will be back in force tomorrow.
Happy New Year peeps!
It's been a strange Christmas – taking the failed ski holiday into account and MPA-boy's departure – but there have also been some amazing times, too.
On Christmas Day, Nottnum Uncle made Christmas dinner for The Rents, me and Gma and we did traditional things like watching the Queen's speech and falling asleep on the sofa.
I also got to welcome 2011 into the world with the Singing Swede, GBman, Guitar Boy and his wife, which for me included making my first cheesecake, of which I ate most of it!!
We made our resolutions and one of mine is to learn how to play the guitar – Guitar Boy has very kindly offered to lend me one of his to get me started – and another is to be true to my heart and go after what I want, not what I think I want.
Then on Sunday, SuperCathyFragileMystic and The Photographer called in unannounced, and after a quick chat they cancelled their plans to drive to the Wild West Erm... Country and we had a veritable feast of roast duck, mashed potato and champagne by the bottleful – three bottles full to be exact!
It was the most wonderfully fabulous evening of hilarity, which made yesterday's incredible hangover totally worth it.
The Singing Swede joined me on the sofa for a SATC marathon and I arranged dinner with Fab Friend for this week and text chatted to NikNak who saw in the new year by giving birth to the very gorgeous Baby K!
All in all, I feel ready to face 2011. Not because I feel particularly happy or joyous right now, but because I feel blessed! Blessed by the amazing people in my life.
A sentimental way to start 2011? Yes. But never fear, Deafinitely Girly will be back in force tomorrow.
Happy New Year peeps!
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