When I find out whose idea it was to get up at 4.30am on a Sunday, I shall do something very nasty to them. And I deny that it was my idea, I don’t care what anyone says. Eastbourne was there when we arrived, and still there when we left. At 0600 there were only divers in the Asda car park that we used to park and change in. At lunchtime, however it was full of people getting a right eyeful of divers changing back into civvies.
Did I mention I was the only girlie? Anyway, mostly got around that by hijacking the men’s loo.
Chris has thoroughly exaggerated his description of the first dive; the visibility was not two metres, it was two inches. Honest. And the dogfish on the second dive were very lovely and I had a serious internal debate as to whether I could get away with that old trick of ‘he followed me home, can I keep him? Decided that my bathtub probably wasn’t big enough. After stopping for dinner on the way, we hot home about 4 and were quite ready to crash right then, but bravely struggled all the way to 9pm in order to try and get back on track for Monday.
Monday evening our lifesaver course was due to start at Chatham at 1930. This is 1930 *sharp*according to Jude, the course leader. In fact, her email was quite insistent that the course will be starting 1930 *promptly* and a dim view would be taken of anyone not sitting there ready, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 1930.
So my attempt at ensuring promptness went something like this:
1725 – Alarm goes off at work to remind me to leave at 1730 sharp.
1728 – Receive phone call from Very Important Client.
1730 – Staff wave goodbye.
1748 – Put phone down to Very Important Client.
1749 – With coat half hanging off, run up Bank Street to car park.
1750 – Run back to office to lock up.
1752 – Run back up Bank Street to car park, whilst trying to untangle shoulder bag..
1753 – Shoulder bag tips entire contents over Bank Street.
1757 – Arrive at car park.
1758 – Congratulate self on wisdom of bringing car complete with cylinders in boot to work in order to make quick getaway.
1759 – Emergency stop part way down the exit ramp of car park due to unexpected queue.
1803 – Wish self had made the twenty-minute walk to work instead.
1810 – Arrive home, feed cats, feed fish, water plants and change clothes.
1820 – Fall over cat and nearly down stairs.
1825 – Jump in car, drive up road.
1826 – Drive back down road, jump out of car, lock house.
1828 – Jump in car, drive up road and on way to Rochester.
1905 – Arrive Chris’ flat to find no car parking spaces. In a moment of pique, park in most inconvenient place possible.
1915 – Drag Chris out to car as panicking about car left in slightly awkward place (on corner blocking garages) slightly away from the curb (about three feet).
1917 - Half way down road Chris curses because he left so fast he forgot half of what he needed.
1925 - Slide car elegantly into car park space outside club.
1926 – Casually lean on bar with drinks, patting self on back for promptness.
1927 – Casually observe that we’re the only people there.
1936 – A couple of other lifesaver students wander in.
1940 – Jude and other instructors wander in.
2000 – Self has made serious inroads in creating lifelike voodoo style doll of Jude.
2015 – Course starts.
2230 – Course finishes, and Chris has to hold onto his seat as self makes rapid trip home to Ashford, slowing down only to boot him out of car at his flat.
2250 – Pass police car sneakily hidden in front of lorry in slow lane where I couldn’t see it.
2255 – In mutually courteous fashion slowly creep over very narrow humpback bridge to discover oncoming headlights belong to another police car who twinks his blues in thanks (I think...). Belatedly remember that one of my taillights is out and hotfoot it the rest of the way home before anyone else notices.
2300 – In bed snoring.
Tuesday was hard to get up to. Finished work at four with a view to catching a train at 5. This idea worked really well right up to the point where I picked my post up and found an Interlink card that told me I had a parcel. In handwriting to rivals my doctors, it said that my parcel was at ‘The Brick Hole Innn.’ Huh? I have NO idea what that’s about, and no matter how I squinted our held the card up to the light or upside down, I could not make any more sense than that.
Knowing Interlink of old, however, it could be anywhere. So I looked around the front garden, checked with the neighbours and checked I hadn’t run over it. I had no idea what size it was, but guessed it might be dvd or book sized since I have a coupe of mail orders outstanding. Having found nothing anywhere obvious, I checked the back garden, crossing fingers that it hadn’t been just chucked over the fence. Can you imagine a DVD landing in my very full, very wet water barrel pond?
Sure enough, large box had been chucked over fence, missed the pond and landed square in a large pile of cat poo upside down. I know it was upside down because the box had big arrows pointing to the right way up and clear print that said ‘This way up, fragile and handle with care.’ Concluded that card had actually said ‘The Back GaR Den’.
Fortunately the packers clearly know what their couriers are like and had secured the enclosed flowers in such a manner that Chelsea could have played a full game with it as the football and the flowers wouldn’t have noticed. Thank you very much Annelies!!! They are gorgeous. Tulips, along with lilies and sunflowers are my faves.
After putting them in a vase, realised that it was now 1640 and I still had to get train ticket. Ran all the way to station, skidded up to window, got ticket, ran all the way back down to platform 2, and took steps three at a time just in the nick of time to see back end of train disappearing up track. Next train 1717, so not the end of the world. Met Chris at Charing X and went to Wembley to see War of the Worlds.
Met Gary Osbourne, and although not impressed with pink sunglasses, his wife was very nice, and Chris was very impressed, but then again Chris knew who he was. I was impressed Weds when I Googled him and found that he co-wrote a lot of Elton John’s songs from 1975 – 1985 or thereabouts. War of the Worlds itself was very good. Justin Heyward was incredibly elegant in his cream period outfit and sang beautifully. Russell Watson was nice to look at. The tripod was very impressive, and the whole set up excellent. A very enjoyable evening. Got home at 0030.
Wednesday was really, really hard to get up to. Today is better
Thursday 27 April 2006
Saturday 22 April 2006
Scary stories
Last Saturday, we went to Canterbury so that Chris could get some jeans and I could pick up a Dali clock for Jennie’s birthday. Had lunch at Marlowe’s and mission successful, we returned to Ashford and with almost no traffic on the road, we returned a good deal faster than we got there. My car just loves that road *so* much. I need to do something about the gouges Chris has made in the passenger seat; anyone would think he couldn’t deal with the G-forces.
We went on an exploratory mission in the afternoon to hunt down the elusive sound mirrors of Romney Marsh. We found them. Not too surprising since one is a 200 foot long very high wall. Unfortunately since there was a large body of water between us and them, combined with the fact that it was raining, we admired them from a distance and decided to come back one day when the sun was able to be there too.
On Saturday evening the planned dive Sunday lunchtime at Dover was called off due to an ambiguously miserable weather forecast.
Sunday was a lovely mild day and the water was flat as a pancake. But we were not PO’d by that fact at all. Really. We weren’t. Nope. Cuz we’re ‘Ard.
So, with the specific purpose of drowning our sorrows, we went to see Ice Age 2. It was very funny and as good as the first.
We then went to Richborough Castle, averting our eyes as we passed sunny pond smooth waters perfect for diving. (Because we would never dive irresponsibly without proper shore cover.). At first glance it looked like a flint wall and a couple of bunkers that made the £10 entrance for the two of us seem extortionate, but once we discovered the talk around phone thing that was included in the price we decided to go for it. And actually it was very interesting and well worth the time and cost. Lots of Roman type buildings and things which Chris would expound upon at great length.
After that, we went to mum and dad’s for Easter Sunday. There were no eggs or other Easter type goodies forthcoming from anyone (other than Chris) so it was wonderful to have a lovely dinner culminating in an exquisitely yummy choccy type cake that more than did the job.
Monday we went to see Chris’ Mum and Dad, and had a lovely full roast dinner there also. The drunk drivers were out in force with optional lane discipline on the M25, but we returned without incident.
Wednesday was a very interesting day. In the morning I received my verification certificate confirming that I have indeed passed my DMS level 5. Go me!
Asda is approximately 500 yards from my front door.
At 9.20 am, armed robbers pounced on a Securitas van (again!) in front of the cash machine at Asda and got away with cash. Shots were fired and one person hit. The gentleman was shot actually didn’t know he’d actually been shot until 12.10 when he was asked for his jeans for forensics and discovered his keys that had been in his front pocket were very bent and tangled with a bullet. No word of an exaggeration, please note.
Are we getting to be a hot bed of shootings and robberies, or what? I realise that this doesn’t even begin to compare to the worlds of Annelies and Richard, but we’re not supposed to be in a war zone here!
In the evening Mel came round and Chris cooked and we all put the world to rights.
On Friday, Neko showed me a new trick. He can get on top of the wardrobe and curl up to sleep in peace. To do this he has to jump onto the short cupboard opposite, swing out, hanging by two front paws and clamber up to the shelf above before making the final jump across the stake filled chasm between shelf and wardrobe top. He hasn’t yet figured out how to get back down without jumping on top of my head.
This morning my old passport was returned to me. A hopeful sign I thought since I was advised that I’d receive those a few days before my new passport. Less than an hour later, my new passport was delivered into my hands by courier.
Ten days turn around, impressed, much?
This next week is set to be pretty hectic, starting at 4.30 am tomorrow. Because we’re ‘Ard.
We went on an exploratory mission in the afternoon to hunt down the elusive sound mirrors of Romney Marsh. We found them. Not too surprising since one is a 200 foot long very high wall. Unfortunately since there was a large body of water between us and them, combined with the fact that it was raining, we admired them from a distance and decided to come back one day when the sun was able to be there too.
On Saturday evening the planned dive Sunday lunchtime at Dover was called off due to an ambiguously miserable weather forecast.
Sunday was a lovely mild day and the water was flat as a pancake. But we were not PO’d by that fact at all. Really. We weren’t. Nope. Cuz we’re ‘Ard.
So, with the specific purpose of drowning our sorrows, we went to see Ice Age 2. It was very funny and as good as the first.
We then went to Richborough Castle, averting our eyes as we passed sunny pond smooth waters perfect for diving. (Because we would never dive irresponsibly without proper shore cover.
After that, we went to mum and dad’s for Easter Sunday. There were no eggs or other Easter type goodies forthcoming from anyone (other than Chris) so it was wonderful to have a lovely dinner culminating in an exquisitely yummy choccy type cake that more than did the job.
Monday we went to see Chris’ Mum and Dad, and had a lovely full roast dinner there also. The drunk drivers were out in force with optional lane discipline on the M25, but we returned without incident.
Wednesday was a very interesting day. In the morning I received my verification certificate confirming that I have indeed passed my DMS level 5. Go me!
Asda is approximately 500 yards from my front door.
At 9.20 am, armed robbers pounced on a Securitas van (again!) in front of the cash machine at Asda and got away with cash. Shots were fired and one person hit. The gentleman was shot actually didn’t know he’d actually been shot until 12.10 when he was asked for his jeans for forensics and discovered his keys that had been in his front pocket were very bent and tangled with a bullet. No word of an exaggeration, please note.
Are we getting to be a hot bed of shootings and robberies, or what? I realise that this doesn’t even begin to compare to the worlds of Annelies and Richard, but we’re not supposed to be in a war zone here!
In the evening Mel came round and Chris cooked and we all put the world to rights.
On Friday, Neko showed me a new trick. He can get on top of the wardrobe and curl up to sleep in peace. To do this he has to jump onto the short cupboard opposite, swing out, hanging by two front paws and clamber up to the shelf above before making the final jump across the stake filled chasm between shelf and wardrobe top. He hasn’t yet figured out how to get back down without jumping on top of my head.
This morning my old passport was returned to me. A hopeful sign I thought since I was advised that I’d receive those a few days before my new passport. Less than an hour later, my new passport was delivered into my hands by courier.
Ten days turn around, impressed, much?
This next week is set to be pretty hectic, starting at 4.30 am tomorrow. Because we’re ‘Ard.
Friday 14 April 2006
Easter, plenty of birds but no bunnies
Happy Easter!
Last weekend I kicked Chris out and into the lake while I had the girlies down. Jill and Jennie as usual, because it was Jill’s birthday. We celebrated the birthday on Friday eve with a couple of bottles, went to Canterbury for some retail therapy on Saturday and had lunch at Marlowes. Arrived in Canterbury with zero items on shopping list other than a tentative leather jacket for Jill, and came back with (between us), three leather coats, 11 pairs of earrings, eight tops, two skirts, two bottles of nail varnish and a pack of muffins. It’s a very good job we only do this twice a year… On the other hand, never stand between girls and their shopping. Strangely, we didn’t actually scare anyone this time round; we must be losing our touch. More practice, I say!
We went to La Dolce Vita, an Italian in Ashford. Lovely food, but no atmosphere. Service is never usually a problem, however we think that two out of three of Arturo’s (the Maitre D’) staff were trainees on that night. We placed our order very quickly for both food and drink; five minutes being a record given Jill can never ever make a decision regarding food, and Jennie has distinct difficult in choosing what she’d like. I don’t have any such problems of course, other than selecting what not to have.
Three minutes later we were slightly startled to have our Hors D’oevres arrive. Until we realised that Jennie’s mushrooms had legs, eyes and antenna. We’d received someone else’s, which as soon as we pointed out that mushroom weren’t supposed to look like prawns were swiftly whisked away by a slightly annoyed (with his staff) looking Arturo and relocated to their correct owners. Fifteen minutes later the alcohol had not arrived and we were getting a bit PO’d about this. We are very patient girlies and enjoy long spaced out dinners, but the alcohol and O2 absolutely must be available from the get go. We coughed a lot, and Arturo snapped at one of the suspected trainees and voila, wine materialised instantly.
Food was gorgeous. At 9 the two trainee were booted out and Arturo stopped scowling, metamorphosing into a jolly polite and agreeable Maitre D’ who chatted and joked with us while we ate and drank him out of business.
Whilst waiting for our taxi in the bar, we scared the bar-lady with our new earrings and coats (Me - think Underworld, Jill – think Matrix, Jennie - think David Soul). Job done.
Sunday, we had ice cream for breakfast (Mint choc, Toffee Pecan, Double choc and Raspberry pavlova) before deciding to get up at midday and then we went to Sandwich, walked around the old town walls – well part of it anyway, and found a very nice eatery where we had lunch. The Fisherman’s Somethingorother next to the Barbican Bridge.
On Monday, we went to the Dive Club, specially so that I could try out my BCD (aka buoyancy jacket thing) and Dry Suit (poly bag with rubber holes for head and hands).
BCD was absolutely fab.
Dry suit was very wet.
After spending ten minutes floating around on our heads just to prove our buoyancy control was very good (read showoffs), we got bored and went home. The pool really isn’t big enough. Someone should tell Chatham Leisure Centre that the dive pit absolutely needs to be big enough to play underwater Frisbee at least. It’s essential. Honest.
Tuesday morning I remembered that my passport was about due now.
Tuesday evening I discovered that my passport expired last month.
Wednesday morning I discovered that all known passport picture machines in Ashford were dead.
Wednesday lunchtime I discovered a very nice lady at Snappy Snaps that did passport pics, and sent passport application for express processing.
Wednesday afternoon I discovered that there were previously unreported *and* working passport picture machines in the post office, County Square, County Mall, behind Wilkos, next to the police Station, by the library and probably on the central bandstand.
Thursday took the girls to lunch.
Don’t remember Thursday afternoon.
Went to Chris’ Thursday eve and received Easter egg. Very expensive Easter egg, ordered special by mail, with beautifully striated layers of dark and white chocolate lovingly set in red background with black surround, carefully protected by a clear plastic box, packed snugly into a thick cardboard travel pack and delivered by hand precisely on time to Chris’ flat, specially for me. Upon opening, it was unfortunately in approximately twenty two pieces. Poor Chris’ lower lip hasn’t stopped quivering in disappointment yet. On the positive side, the company responsible is sending us a very nice, very expensive bottle of champagne to make up for the disappointment.
Someone had the really excellent idea of jumping in a frozen lake at 7am this morning. Huh! What about my lie-in! Okay, so that’s an exaggeration. It was 9am and the water was 10deg. To try out Dry Suit again after efforts were made to seal the Dry Suit. The visibility was good, the dive was 25 minutes, and we didn’t see any fish, but there was a snail and we wrote graffiti in the algae on top of a sunken Ford Fiesta. (Dive Babes Rock).
Did I mention that the BCD was absolutely fab?
The Dry Suit was still very wet. In fact, standing on dry land with lake water still half way up my shins. I can’t help being fine boned! However, replacing neck seal with one small enough for my fine boned neck is slightly worrying as I have to get it over my very big head.
And that brings us up to… well right now.
Have a very delicious chocolate festival!
Last weekend I kicked Chris out and into the lake while I had the girlies down. Jill and Jennie as usual, because it was Jill’s birthday. We celebrated the birthday on Friday eve with a couple of bottles, went to Canterbury for some retail therapy on Saturday and had lunch at Marlowes. Arrived in Canterbury with zero items on shopping list other than a tentative leather jacket for Jill, and came back with (between us), three leather coats, 11 pairs of earrings, eight tops, two skirts, two bottles of nail varnish and a pack of muffins. It’s a very good job we only do this twice a year… On the other hand, never stand between girls and their shopping. Strangely, we didn’t actually scare anyone this time round; we must be losing our touch. More practice, I say!
We went to La Dolce Vita, an Italian in Ashford. Lovely food, but no atmosphere. Service is never usually a problem, however we think that two out of three of Arturo’s (the Maitre D’) staff were trainees on that night. We placed our order very quickly for both food and drink; five minutes being a record given Jill can never ever make a decision regarding food, and Jennie has distinct difficult in choosing what she’d like. I don’t have any such problems of course, other than selecting what not to have.
Three minutes later we were slightly startled to have our Hors D’oevres arrive. Until we realised that Jennie’s mushrooms had legs, eyes and antenna. We’d received someone else’s, which as soon as we pointed out that mushroom weren’t supposed to look like prawns were swiftly whisked away by a slightly annoyed (with his staff) looking Arturo and relocated to their correct owners. Fifteen minutes later the alcohol had not arrived and we were getting a bit PO’d about this. We are very patient girlies and enjoy long spaced out dinners, but the alcohol and O2 absolutely must be available from the get go. We coughed a lot, and Arturo snapped at one of the suspected trainees and voila, wine materialised instantly.
Food was gorgeous. At 9 the two trainee were booted out and Arturo stopped scowling, metamorphosing into a jolly polite and agreeable Maitre D’ who chatted and joked with us while we ate and drank him out of business.
Whilst waiting for our taxi in the bar, we scared the bar-lady with our new earrings and coats (Me - think Underworld, Jill – think Matrix, Jennie - think David Soul). Job done.
Sunday, we had ice cream for breakfast (Mint choc, Toffee Pecan, Double choc and Raspberry pavlova) before deciding to get up at midday and then we went to Sandwich, walked around the old town walls – well part of it anyway, and found a very nice eatery where we had lunch. The Fisherman’s Somethingorother next to the Barbican Bridge.
On Monday, we went to the Dive Club, specially so that I could try out my BCD (aka buoyancy jacket thing) and Dry Suit (poly bag with rubber holes for head and hands).
BCD was absolutely fab.
Dry suit was very wet.
After spending ten minutes floating around on our heads just to prove our buoyancy control was very good (read showoffs), we got bored and went home. The pool really isn’t big enough. Someone should tell Chatham Leisure Centre that the dive pit absolutely needs to be big enough to play underwater Frisbee at least. It’s essential. Honest.
Tuesday morning I remembered that my passport was about due now.
Tuesday evening I discovered that my passport expired last month.
Wednesday morning I discovered that all known passport picture machines in Ashford were dead.
Wednesday lunchtime I discovered a very nice lady at Snappy Snaps that did passport pics, and sent passport application for express processing.
Wednesday afternoon I discovered that there were previously unreported *and* working passport picture machines in the post office, County Square, County Mall, behind Wilkos, next to the police Station, by the library and probably on the central bandstand.
Thursday took the girls to lunch.
Don’t remember Thursday afternoon.
Went to Chris’ Thursday eve and received Easter egg. Very expensive Easter egg, ordered special by mail, with beautifully striated layers of dark and white chocolate lovingly set in red background with black surround, carefully protected by a clear plastic box, packed snugly into a thick cardboard travel pack and delivered by hand precisely on time to Chris’ flat, specially for me. Upon opening, it was unfortunately in approximately twenty two pieces. Poor Chris’ lower lip hasn’t stopped quivering in disappointment yet. On the positive side, the company responsible is sending us a very nice, very expensive bottle of champagne to make up for the disappointment.
Someone had the really excellent idea of jumping in a frozen lake at 7am this morning. Huh! What about my lie-in! Okay, so that’s an exaggeration. It was 9am and the water was 10deg. To try out Dry Suit again after efforts were made to seal the Dry Suit. The visibility was good, the dive was 25 minutes, and we didn’t see any fish, but there was a snail and we wrote graffiti in the algae on top of a sunken Ford Fiesta. (Dive Babes Rock).
Did I mention that the BCD was absolutely fab?
The Dry Suit was still very wet. In fact, standing on dry land with lake water still half way up my shins. I can’t help being fine boned! However, replacing neck seal with one small enough for my fine boned neck is slightly worrying as I have to get it over my very big head.
And that brings us up to… well right now.
Have a very delicious chocolate festival!
Thursday 6 April 2006
Sunny snowy Ashford
I don’t have a lot to report this week, but let’s see what I can think of.
My tomato eyes have faded away to the slightly bloodshot of the hung over, and with the discarding of my overnight patches, I now have the pleasure of seeing exactly which kit shaped fuzz ball is trying to nest in my armpit of a night. And more importantly, I can visit the bathroom at night without fumbling around looking for the loo; a tad embarrassing when the only way you know you’ve found it is when your hand gets wet without turning any taps on.
On Saturday we chilled out and went for a mooch, pootling out to Sandwich to visit Mark at Number 6 where we had coffee with a side order of friendly bitching. We went to the No Name shop in No Name Street (and for those who don’t know, yes that really is the name. Or not.) which was unmistakably French.
It was French in atmosphere and décor, it was French in terms of ownership and staff. It was full of French food, from saucisson to real Brie that had a life of its own and bit Chris back. It was also full of French customers and I’m still trying to work out where they all came from, (those who just said ‘France’ slap yourselves on the back of the head) and why? I reckon Sandwich has an underground French community intent on invading us with their secret weapon – the pong of garlic and cheese, which is admittedly rather mouth watering.
With ponging stuffed baguettes we went for a walk along the river and admired all the chavs with their chavlets that were also walking along the river, and returned via the church. The church being of interest on this particular occasion because of the art exhibition put on by the local Bird Society. Which is of course why upon entering the first picture seen was a large stunning oil painting of a tiger. There were quite a lot of pictures of tigers, cheetahs and lions. Some were quite beautiful, and I might have thought about buying one if any of the good ones had cost less than a three bedroomed house. Oh yeah, and there were some pretty pictures of birds around the back too.
On the way back from Sandwich we stopped by the parentals for a very welcome cuppa tea and to demonstrate that my new eyeballs are fully functional. Chris took advantage of dad’s offer of a beer, which he muchly enjoyed after the mutual lack of alcohol caused by my enforced exclusion of alcoholic beverages.
On Sunday we went to the Dive Show at Excel in London. We decided to drive because without knowing exactly what purchases might be made, things could get tricky if we used public transport. I don’t think taking a couple of 12 litre cylinders on the tube would go down very well. Actually, we didn’t buy cylinders, but we did get some bits and pieces that we’re very happy with. Excel itself iserm… appropriate *polite* term> erm… bleargh. The halls were nice. Big and airy. The coffee cart was nice – they made my (black) tea correctly, which is a rarity in this country. The loos were… clean. There was a little girl working very hard to keep them clean in fact. However there was the Strong urinal smell which made me wish for the subtle aroma of garlic and cheese, a lack of hot water and the hand dryers only worked if you got down on
your knees and begged. This latter wouldn’t have been so bad if there’d been a paper towel alternative, but there wasn’t, and the see through bog paper wasn’t any good either.
We ate at the waterfront café which is part of Excel. Lovely view of the docks. Several different types cuisine on offer. There was no room to sit inside, so we sat outside despite the spits of rain. We are after all,
divers. And UK divers no less. We are ‘Ard. Which is why most of the big butch UK divers were crammed inside the café looking out the windows and pointing at us idiots who were relaxing leisurely in the rain.
Now this is Chris’ story to tell really, as he took the hunter/gatherer role. There were all these different cuisines with their separate counters, and we decided to go for Chicken Chow Mien at the Noodle Bar.
The set up looked good for fast and efficient service geared up for a high level of turnaround. As I understand it, there were two major flaws in the system. One, not one member of the staff knew a word of English. Two, there was one credit card machine service the whole place. Three hours of
guarding the table later and Chris turns up with two plates of dry chicken and soggy noodles, *twenty* quid lighter and a really, really pissed off expression on his face. We left Excel behind, and decided IMHO, that the Birmingham show at the NEC is better.
On Monday I returned to work and found far less of a mess than anticipated – my staff are brilliant.
On Tuesday I went to the eye clinic in Croydon for my Week 1 check up. The trip up was fun, the M25 at a standstill from the M26 onwards and as far as even the longsighted eye can see. Stuck in the fast lane doing 4 miles per hour at less than half an hour before my appointment was due, I called up the clinic to tell them I would be late. They confirmed that was fine, and the same instant that I cleared the call, the traffic sped up to 70. I arrived with around 3 mins to spare. I had a bit of a stomach churning moment when the ophthalmologist hemmed and hawed in a dubious manner, checked and rechecked the notes, hemmed and hawed again, checked and rechecked my eyes, hemmed and hawed some more, rechecked and- you get the
idea, and finally asked me when I’d had my eyes done. Last Monday, both of them, I told her and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. That apparently agreed with my notes, which was somewhat reassuring, but what had her surprised, was that my eyes had healed to a level that she wouldn’t
expect before the end of week two.
What can I say, but that my immune system and recuperative abilities are my secret superpower. My Week One prescription tested out as 20/20 in my left eye, and -.05 in my right (always the weakest), and the expectation is that both eyes will improve over the next four months or so. She cleared me for, amongst other things, diving (once I’d finished the course of antibiotics on Monday), drinking alcohol (critical for girly weekend this weekend), and absolutely most importantly of all, wearing makeup (not that I necessarily will, but it’s the being able to that’s crucial). Then she told me to go away and not come back until my Month 1 check-up at the beginning of May.
I returned home the long way round because I though I knew better than the Sat Nav where I was going. I was wrong.
I looked forward to Chris coming around with the idea that we might now have a smallglass of wine now that my alcohol ban had been lifted. He had a major headache and had already taken headache tablets. My
bottle of wine remains unopened.
Wednesday I booked the shuttle tickets for mum’s birthday.
And today. Well, lets just say that writing this is the most exciting thing I’m anticipating all day.
My tomato eyes have faded away to the slightly bloodshot of the hung over, and with the discarding of my overnight patches, I now have the pleasure of seeing exactly which kit shaped fuzz ball is trying to nest in my armpit of a night. And more importantly, I can visit the bathroom at night without fumbling around looking for the loo; a tad embarrassing when the only way you know you’ve found it is when your hand gets wet without turning any taps on.
On Saturday we chilled out and went for a mooch, pootling out to Sandwich to visit Mark at Number 6 where we had coffee with a side order of friendly bitching. We went to the No Name shop in No Name Street (and for those who don’t know, yes that really is the name. Or not.) which was unmistakably French.
It was French in atmosphere and décor, it was French in terms of ownership and staff. It was full of French food, from saucisson to real Brie that had a life of its own and bit Chris back. It was also full of French customers and I’m still trying to work out where they all came from, (those who just said ‘France’ slap yourselves on the back of the head) and why? I reckon Sandwich has an underground French community intent on invading us with their secret weapon – the pong of garlic and cheese, which is admittedly rather mouth watering.
With ponging stuffed baguettes we went for a walk along the river and admired all the chavs with their chavlets that were also walking along the river, and returned via the church. The church being of interest on this particular occasion because of the art exhibition put on by the local Bird Society. Which is of course why upon entering the first picture seen was a large stunning oil painting of a tiger. There were quite a lot of pictures of tigers, cheetahs and lions. Some were quite beautiful, and I might have thought about buying one if any of the good ones had cost less than a three bedroomed house. Oh yeah, and there were some pretty pictures of birds around the back too.
On the way back from Sandwich we stopped by the parentals for a very welcome cuppa tea and to demonstrate that my new eyeballs are fully functional. Chris took advantage of dad’s offer of a beer, which he muchly enjoyed after the mutual lack of alcohol caused by my enforced exclusion of alcoholic beverages.
On Sunday we went to the Dive Show at Excel in London. We decided to drive because without knowing exactly what purchases might be made, things could get tricky if we used public transport. I don’t think taking a couple of 12 litre cylinders on the tube would go down very well. Actually, we didn’t buy cylinders, but we did get some bits and pieces that we’re very happy with. Excel itself is
your knees and begged. This latter wouldn’t have been so bad if there’d been a paper towel alternative, but there wasn’t, and the see through bog paper wasn’t any good either.
We ate at the waterfront café which is part of Excel. Lovely view of the docks. Several different types cuisine on offer. There was no room to sit inside, so we sat outside despite the spits of rain. We are after all,
divers. And UK divers no less. We are ‘Ard. Which is why most of the big butch UK divers were crammed inside the café looking out the windows and pointing at us idiots who were relaxing leisurely in the rain.
Now this is Chris’ story to tell really, as he took the hunter/gatherer role. There were all these different cuisines with their separate counters, and we decided to go for Chicken Chow Mien at the Noodle Bar.
The set up looked good for fast and efficient service geared up for a high level of turnaround. As I understand it, there were two major flaws in the system. One, not one member of the staff knew a word of English. Two, there was one credit card machine service the whole place. Three hours of
guarding the table later and Chris turns up with two plates of dry chicken and soggy noodles, *twenty* quid lighter and a really, really pissed off expression on his face. We left Excel behind, and decided IMHO, that the Birmingham show at the NEC is better.
On Monday I returned to work and found far less of a mess than anticipated – my staff are brilliant.
On Tuesday I went to the eye clinic in Croydon for my Week 1 check up. The trip up was fun, the M25 at a standstill from the M26 onwards and as far as even the longsighted eye can see. Stuck in the fast lane doing 4 miles per hour at less than half an hour before my appointment was due, I called up the clinic to tell them I would be late. They confirmed that was fine, and the same instant that I cleared the call, the traffic sped up to 70. I arrived with around 3 mins to spare. I had a bit of a stomach churning moment when the ophthalmologist hemmed and hawed in a dubious manner, checked and rechecked the notes, hemmed and hawed again, checked and rechecked my eyes, hemmed and hawed some more, rechecked and- you get the
idea, and finally asked me when I’d had my eyes done. Last Monday, both of them, I told her and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. That apparently agreed with my notes, which was somewhat reassuring, but what had her surprised, was that my eyes had healed to a level that she wouldn’t
expect before the end of week two.
What can I say, but that my immune system and recuperative abilities are my secret superpower. My Week One prescription tested out as 20/20 in my left eye, and -.05 in my right (always the weakest), and the expectation is that both eyes will improve over the next four months or so. She cleared me for, amongst other things, diving (once I’d finished the course of antibiotics on Monday), drinking alcohol (critical for girly weekend this weekend), and absolutely most importantly of all, wearing makeup (not that I necessarily will, but it’s the being able to that’s crucial). Then she told me to go away and not come back until my Month 1 check-up at the beginning of May.
I returned home the long way round because I though I knew better than the Sat Nav where I was going. I was wrong.
I looked forward to Chris coming around with the idea that we might now have a small
bottle of wine remains unopened.
Wednesday I booked the shuttle tickets for mum’s birthday.
And today. Well, lets just say that writing this is the most exciting thing I’m anticipating all day.
Saturday 1 April 2006
Daily bulletin Tuesday
Well, the deed is done. I can see as well as the rest of the world now, probably better over the next six months as the internal swelling reduces and my eyes adjust. It’s been an interesting experience so far and went something like this.
On Sunday we chilled out, rolled out of bed at lunchtime, completely steamrolling over the lack of an hour, and went to Bybrook for dinner and to acquire a couple of new fiskies. A Blue Guppy, and a Gold Orange. Actually, the Orange part is in Latin, but I can’t pronounce it, let alone remember it.
Chris took me to the train station at around 5, we kissed goodbye and I tripped over the curb on the way into the station. After one train that failed to arrive and two platform changes, I departed for London at 5.45. Arrived without further incident at Jill’s, drank diet coke due to being unable to consume alcohol and went to bed at 10, setting alarm for 5.30. Remembered at 11 why I don’t drink caffeine before bedtime.
Eventually dozed off and awoke at 1.30. At 4.30 still awake, so decided to have breakfast then as I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything after 5.50, but had been instructed to ensure I had breakfast; hence 5.30 alarm. Breakfast in the form of an emergency Snickers bar and a glass of milk was consumed and alarm reset for 6.30. Alarm woke me up, was dressed and ready to go at 6.45. Taxi was due at 6.45 and arrived at 7.
Not that I was at all nervous at any point whatsoever at all. Honest.
Taxi man said not to worry about the time, control had given him strict instruction to get me to Collindale by 7.45 and that is what he would do. As Jill requested, I told him that while Loraine Road (where Jill lives) was two way up until a couple of months ago, it was now one way and he was pointing the wrong way. He turned around, pulled over and got out the A to Z which he kept on the steering wheel at all times.
Not that I was worrying. At all.
True to his word tho, after much zigzaggy and back street driving, two red lights before I stopped looking, and one or two possible thoroughfares that I’m not actually convinced were roads at all, we arrived at 7.30. Impressed.
Checked into clinic, and at 7.45 a young lady a couple of years younger than me by the name of Angela arrived, and once she checked in, we were both ushered upstairs to the surgical area. Pick an eye, they said, so we both picked our left and wandered around with a big X over our left eye for a while. Lots of eyedrops and a really really really sexy set of lime green scrubs, open at the back and everything, later Agnette, the clinic manager whipped my glasses away, took me by the hand and led me to the theatre. Big Gulp time now, and wondering if I really want to be here. Not even dad spinning the bucket at the top of the ferris wheel in Bagatelle was as terrifying as this.
Agnette handed me over to Nurse John who kept asking me if I was sure it was the left eye and not the right. Agnette told him I was The One Who Was Having Both Done Today, and he said, ooh well we’d better get it right then hadn’t we? I think he was trying to be funny. Then met the Dutch anaesthetist, who has an exceptionally warped sense of humour. However was a nice man. A very very nice man. Cannula insertion stung, but whatever he did after that was very very nice. Did I mention he was a very very very nice man? The mad professor came in to do the op and said hello, asked how I was feeling, but as nothing was actually working at that point, I just grinned. I think.
Right eye got covered up left got splurked, with something brown which gave a nice sepia effect to everything. Imagine lying on the seabed of Dover Harbour, and looking up at the surface. That’s what the entire op was like. No clue what was happening, lots of refracted brown shadows, and then brown went to black in left eye, right was uncovered and Nurse John said take two deep breaths and sit up. So I did.
Wheeeeeeeee!
Nurse John navigated me through the theatre which was kinda bendy and handed me over to Nurse Bridie in recovery. Ten minutes later the bendy thing had stopped, and Angela appeared. We agreed that op was a doddle and the drugs were good.
Agnette took us down to the lounge area where we got fed biccies and tea. Angela got to leave at 9.30, and Agnette set me up in a corner to wait the six hours until they’d check to see if I could have the second eye done. She even let me put my feet up on another chair and everything. Very happy, very spoilt. Especially when the biccies kept coming.
Met several interesting people during the six hours. Patricia and Gwen (mum and daughter) who came down from Glasgow for Gwen to have the same op. Gwen’s coming back down next week for the other eye with hubby and kids. By train. It’s sixty-five quid return?! And to think a return from Ashford, just forty miles up the road from London is £35…
And then there was Don and Mike (I think), who was there for one of Don’s cataracts. And Susie was there with her hubby. Very attractive is Susie and hubby had bought the op for her. She had a prescription of -17. That’s blinder than a bats bum to the uninitiated. (I’m/was -8).
At 3, Agnette took me to see Doc Robert, a very nice South African chappie who comes from Gansbaai (Shark country!). He took off the bandage, and I remarked that I couldn’t see squat out of that eye. Feeling suddenly intelligent, I quickly added that I thought it might be because I was looking at the inside of my eyelid.
He snorted and politely agreed before lifting up eyelid, and I could see the back wall. He had a good look, and cleared me for second eye.
This time I went up by myself, and waited with the person ahead of me by the name of Richard. He was having second eye done, and went into great lengths about the post op care. He’d had his first eye done in January, taken himself straight down the boozer, ignored the drugs he was sent home with and wondered why an eye infection rocked up a week later, which put him out of commission for a month before everything was well again. So he was determined the he and anyone else who would listen wasn’t going to suffer the same fate.
There are two theatres for the ICL (Implantable Contact Lens) ops (cataracts have a third theatre and a different surgeon), and each theatre has a full team, but the mad professor is the only surgeon who can do ICL, so he does an op in one theatre while the theatre preps the next patient, and so on. Very practiced, slick and clinical.
Richard vanished and Susie arrived, as nervous as hell, and I was all well it’s a doddle the worst bit is the cannula going in. I don’t think she believed me. Sexy scrubs and all and the process is repeated same as before, but this time I went into the same theatre with the same team who were full of, ‘it’s you again!’ and the anaesthetist begging to be my guide dog. At least I think that’s what he was saying but by that time he’d given me the good stuff again.
No bendy things this time since I had eye patches on both eyes. They took a vote and Nurse John got to be my guide dog and took me out to Nurse Bridie in recovery. Ten minutes later the bendy thing had stopped, and Susie appeared. We agreed that op was a doddle and the drugs were good.
Left eyepatch was removed and I could see well enough mid distance and straight ahead to get by and was taken down to the lounge by Agnette and fed more biccies and tea, and had a very nice Indian lady operate my mobile phone for me. Armed with the entire contents of a Boots Pharmacy I was given permission to leave at 5. Taxi man came and got me and escorted literally door to door to Jill's, including steps and doors.
Would probably have been worried that I could only see mid distance all that evening, but was too stoned to care.
Woke up Tuesday, and left eye could see perfectly at all distances. Went to post op check and saw Patricia and Gwen, as well Angela and Susie. Gwen and Angela were happy as clams when there patches were taken off. Susie was in floods of tears of joy when her patch came off, and when my right eye patch was taken off I couldn’t stop grinning until, well, I still haven’t. Who cares that my eyes looked like two angry tomatoes. For those of us with a hint of green in our eye colour, tomato is an exceptionally good shade, by the way.
Happiness carried me all the way home, where I very suddenly realised that energy levels were zero, and with the aid of sedatives and painkillers Tuesday through Thursday was a bit of a drunken blur. Noticed however, that the Gold Orange fiskie was AWOL, and concluded he hadn’t survived the relocation (common occurrence).
Thursday afternoon everything was much clearer, with sedatives out of system, and just on one painkiller, but energy levels still low, but needed provisions. Cat food and chocolate being high on the list, since I’d already stocked up with microwave meals. Contemplated walking to Asda, got the entire four yards to the bottom of my drive decided that was a bad idea with zero energy levels. Got in car and drove to Sainsbury’s instead. That worked well, and as it was by Bybrook, and because Chris had been so disappointed by the AWOLness of Gold Orange, I decided it was a good idea to get another Gold Orange and pretend it hadn’t gone AWOL at all. Drove home. Decided I wouldn’t drive again until at least Friday, when the painkillers wore off.
Put new Gold Orange in tank. It went AWOL too within a couple of hours. Another couple of hours later, two Gold Oranges materialise holding fins and generally deciding to be social. Bugger. Now I’ll have to confess up to what I did.
Friday morning, energy levels pinged back up to normal levels and eyes stop looking like red tomatoes. Discovered we have two snails in aquarium that aren’t supposed to be there. Oh well.
I have to wear eyepatches at night until Tuesday, which Chris thinks is hysterically funny (vengeance will be mine!), and keep squirting in the antibiotics four times a day for another ten days, and best of all, I get to wear sunglasses indoors and at night and legitimately blow raspberries at anyone who comments.
All is good, and hope all above is not too boring.
Woke up this morning to loud clatter; lounge curtains fell down, curtain rail and all. Two kittens sitting by looking very smug, one kitten hiding mewling very pitifully. Wonder whose fault that was then.
Tomorrow we plan to go to the London Dive Show, and Tuesday is my follow-up eye check in Sunny Croydon.
On Sunday we chilled out, rolled out of bed at lunchtime, completely steamrolling over the lack of an hour, and went to Bybrook for dinner and to acquire a couple of new fiskies. A Blue Guppy, and a Gold Orange. Actually, the Orange part is in Latin, but I can’t pronounce it, let alone remember it.
Chris took me to the train station at around 5, we kissed goodbye and I tripped over the curb on the way into the station. After one train that failed to arrive and two platform changes, I departed for London at 5.45. Arrived without further incident at Jill’s, drank diet coke due to being unable to consume alcohol and went to bed at 10, setting alarm for 5.30. Remembered at 11 why I don’t drink caffeine before bedtime.
Eventually dozed off and awoke at 1.30. At 4.30 still awake, so decided to have breakfast then as I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything after 5.50, but had been instructed to ensure I had breakfast; hence 5.30 alarm. Breakfast in the form of an emergency Snickers bar and a glass of milk was consumed and alarm reset for 6.30. Alarm woke me up, was dressed and ready to go at 6.45. Taxi was due at 6.45 and arrived at 7.
Not that I was at all nervous at any point whatsoever at all. Honest.
Taxi man said not to worry about the time, control had given him strict instruction to get me to Collindale by 7.45 and that is what he would do. As Jill requested, I told him that while Loraine Road (where Jill lives) was two way up until a couple of months ago, it was now one way and he was pointing the wrong way. He turned around, pulled over and got out the A to Z which he kept on the steering wheel at all times.
Not that I was worrying. At all.
True to his word tho, after much zigzaggy and back street driving, two red lights before I stopped looking, and one or two possible thoroughfares that I’m not actually convinced were roads at all, we arrived at 7.30. Impressed.
Checked into clinic, and at 7.45 a young lady a couple of years younger than me by the name of Angela arrived, and once she checked in, we were both ushered upstairs to the surgical area. Pick an eye, they said, so we both picked our left and wandered around with a big X over our left eye for a while. Lots of eyedrops and a really really really sexy set of lime green scrubs, open at the back and everything, later Agnette, the clinic manager whipped my glasses away, took me by the hand and led me to the theatre. Big Gulp time now, and wondering if I really want to be here. Not even dad spinning the bucket at the top of the ferris wheel in Bagatelle was as terrifying as this.
Agnette handed me over to Nurse John who kept asking me if I was sure it was the left eye and not the right. Agnette told him I was The One Who Was Having Both Done Today, and he said, ooh well we’d better get it right then hadn’t we? I think he was trying to be funny. Then met the Dutch anaesthetist, who has an exceptionally warped sense of humour. However was a nice man. A very very nice man. Cannula insertion stung, but whatever he did after that was very very nice. Did I mention he was a very very very nice man? The mad professor came in to do the op and said hello, asked how I was feeling, but as nothing was actually working at that point, I just grinned. I think.
Right eye got covered up left got splurked, with something brown which gave a nice sepia effect to everything. Imagine lying on the seabed of Dover Harbour, and looking up at the surface. That’s what the entire op was like. No clue what was happening, lots of refracted brown shadows, and then brown went to black in left eye, right was uncovered and Nurse John said take two deep breaths and sit up. So I did.
Wheeeeeeeee!
Nurse John navigated me through the theatre which was kinda bendy and handed me over to Nurse Bridie in recovery. Ten minutes later the bendy thing had stopped, and Angela appeared. We agreed that op was a doddle and the drugs were good.
Agnette took us down to the lounge area where we got fed biccies and tea. Angela got to leave at 9.30, and Agnette set me up in a corner to wait the six hours until they’d check to see if I could have the second eye done. She even let me put my feet up on another chair and everything. Very happy, very spoilt. Especially when the biccies kept coming.
Met several interesting people during the six hours. Patricia and Gwen (mum and daughter) who came down from Glasgow for Gwen to have the same op. Gwen’s coming back down next week for the other eye with hubby and kids. By train. It’s sixty-five quid return?! And to think a return from Ashford, just forty miles up the road from London is £35…
And then there was Don and Mike (I think), who was there for one of Don’s cataracts. And Susie was there with her hubby. Very attractive is Susie and hubby had bought the op for her. She had a prescription of -17. That’s blinder than a bats bum to the uninitiated. (I’m/was -8).
At 3, Agnette took me to see Doc Robert, a very nice South African chappie who comes from Gansbaai (Shark country!). He took off the bandage, and I remarked that I couldn’t see squat out of that eye. Feeling suddenly intelligent, I quickly added that I thought it might be because I was looking at the inside of my eyelid.
He snorted and politely agreed before lifting up eyelid, and I could see the back wall. He had a good look, and cleared me for second eye.
This time I went up by myself, and waited with the person ahead of me by the name of Richard. He was having second eye done, and went into great lengths about the post op care. He’d had his first eye done in January, taken himself straight down the boozer, ignored the drugs he was sent home with and wondered why an eye infection rocked up a week later, which put him out of commission for a month before everything was well again. So he was determined the he and anyone else who would listen wasn’t going to suffer the same fate.
There are two theatres for the ICL (Implantable Contact Lens) ops (cataracts have a third theatre and a different surgeon), and each theatre has a full team, but the mad professor is the only surgeon who can do ICL, so he does an op in one theatre while the theatre preps the next patient, and so on. Very practiced, slick and clinical.
Richard vanished and Susie arrived, as nervous as hell, and I was all well it’s a doddle the worst bit is the cannula going in. I don’t think she believed me. Sexy scrubs and all and the process is repeated same as before, but this time I went into the same theatre with the same team who were full of, ‘it’s you again!’ and the anaesthetist begging to be my guide dog. At least I think that’s what he was saying but by that time he’d given me the good stuff again.
No bendy things this time since I had eye patches on both eyes. They took a vote and Nurse John got to be my guide dog and took me out to Nurse Bridie in recovery. Ten minutes later the bendy thing had stopped, and Susie appeared. We agreed that op was a doddle and the drugs were good.
Left eyepatch was removed and I could see well enough mid distance and straight ahead to get by and was taken down to the lounge by Agnette and fed more biccies and tea, and had a very nice Indian lady operate my mobile phone for me. Armed with the entire contents of a Boots Pharmacy I was given permission to leave at 5. Taxi man came and got me and escorted literally door to door to Jill's, including steps and doors.
Would probably have been worried that I could only see mid distance all that evening, but was too stoned to care.
Woke up Tuesday, and left eye could see perfectly at all distances.
Happiness carried me all the way home, where I very suddenly realised that energy levels were zero, and with the aid of sedatives and painkillers Tuesday through Thursday was a bit of a drunken blur. Noticed however, that the Gold Orange fiskie was AWOL, and concluded he hadn’t survived the relocation (common occurrence).
Thursday afternoon everything was much clearer, with sedatives out of system, and just on one painkiller, but energy levels still low, but needed provisions. Cat food and chocolate being high on the list, since I’d already stocked up with microwave meals. Contemplated walking to Asda, got the entire four yards to the bottom of my drive decided that was a bad idea with zero energy levels. Got in car and drove to Sainsbury’s instead. That worked well, and as it was by Bybrook, and because Chris had been so disappointed by the AWOLness of Gold Orange, I decided it was a good idea to get another Gold Orange and pretend it hadn’t gone AWOL at all. Drove home. Decided I wouldn’t drive again until at least Friday, when the painkillers wore off.
Put new Gold Orange in tank. It went AWOL too within a couple of hours. Another couple of hours later, two Gold Oranges materialise holding fins and generally deciding to be social. Bugger. Now I’ll have to confess up to what I did.
Friday morning, energy levels pinged back up to normal levels and eyes stop looking like red tomatoes. Discovered we have two snails in aquarium that aren’t supposed to be there. Oh well.
I have to wear eyepatches at night until Tuesday, which Chris thinks is hysterically funny (vengeance will be mine!), and keep squirting in the antibiotics four times a day for another ten days, and best of all, I get to wear sunglasses indoors and at night and legitimately blow raspberries at anyone who comments.
All is good, and hope all above is not too boring.
Woke up this morning to loud clatter; lounge curtains fell down, curtain rail and all. Two kittens sitting by looking very smug, one kitten hiding mewling very pitifully. Wonder whose fault that was then.
Tomorrow we plan to go to the London Dive Show, and Tuesday is my follow-up eye check in Sunny Croydon.
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