19th Feb went to eye clinic. My left eye is now ready to have the implant tweaked to eliminate the reflection I have. Just got to wait for date now. Excellent drive both ways.
In my fishtank, my three Bristlenoses are being quite entertaining. Bill, the only male who has become very large and whiskery is being very hopeful. He has taken up residence in the tower, and much like the shop windows in the red light district of Amsterdam, awaits in the doorway for a female to come and lay eggs inside. Ben, my little albino girl Bristlenose obligingly laid a batch of eggs… in the wrong place. Under the heater instead of in the tower, where they were promptly eaten by a very happy Keyop (large white silver molly). As Jill pointed out, perhaps the fact that historically Bill spends a lot of time lurking behind the heater confused her. Bill continues to lurk in the doorway.
Weekend of 24/25th Feb, in a slightly impromptu manner, we had a girlie weekend and overanalysed much Supernatural and indulged in some ah, philosophical analysis of NCIS.
Boink kicked Bill out of tower and laid some eggs. Bill is now taking his duties as dad in residence very seriously, constantly tending to them, fanning them and guarding against marauding Keyops and snails.
Weds 28th Feb went to Brighton. Fortunately didn’t have to be there until 2pm, and so was well aware of the gridlocked motorways. Went cross country instead, via Hastings, leaving Ashford at 10.30 (anticipating much traffic). Arrived Brighton 1pm after distinct lack of traffic, although what little there was consisted of; a double decker bus with only one gear, a tractor towing a JCB and a sixteen wheeler lorry that really didn’t belong on that dinky road that goes through Winchelsea and took half an hour to negotiate that really, really tight hairpin bend. Journey back was possibly a tactical error as I gather the motorways were no longer gridlocked, although perhaps not as there was an accident near Gatwick and another on the M25 at that time. Still, only two hours back despite the nose to tail first gear shuffle just outside Brighton. Plus, from Rye to Ashford, played with a Subaru Imprezza. For a variety of reasons I’d decided to take Chris’ Skoda, Leah, and she kept up very well with the Scuby and we had a lot of fun, actually, but shhhhh! Don’t tell Chris…
Last night Mel came around for dinner which was lovely and we caught up with her uh, wide and varied love life.
This morning it seems that Bill has left the tower. If this is so, then its looking likely that the batch of eggs has failed. A depressed Bill with droopy whiskers is a very sad sight, so I hope not.
Today, we hit the River Medway in Medsac 1 to practiced boat handling. Andy, the Dive Officer was taking Chris and I, plus Ian V was coming along for the ride and to get in any experience he could. Unfortunately Ade (Branch Twat) decided that he was bringing out his baby RIB too. So, in the interests of safety, we nominated Ian V to go with Ade, whilst the rest of us took Medsac1, and we would stick roughly together. I started off in the drivers seat (mostly because that was where I’d parked my bum out of the way whilst the big strong boys launched her from the trailer and slip, at least that’s my excuse…), and took her out onto the river. We bimbled around waiting for Ade’s boat which seemed to be taking its time and I took the opportunity to practice the ‘coming alongside’ manoeuvres, which seemed to be a lot easier than last time so I was quite pleased. Eventually, Ade joined us and we pootled gently thru the 6 knot area. We checked Medsac1’s radio, all good, selected the agreed channel to communicate with Ade and found that communication wasn’t happening. His radio seemed to be kaput. Not good, not happy, but it was a flat day, and we agreed to stick together; we weren’t going far.
Hit the delimited sign and the throttle pretty much at the same time and decided to see if I could remember how to do high speed donuts and figure eights. Yup! No problem. Haven’t learnt high speed man overboard yet tho, so good job the boys hung on.
Learnt how to use the echo sounder by putting Medsac onto mid-river mud bank. Most impressed with Chris and Andy jumping out into the three inches of water and pushing Medsac back into deep water. I even remembered to wait until they were both back in the boat before hitting the throttle. We laughed as we realised that Ade had followed us straight onto the bank.
Learnt how to use the GPS as it took us to the wreck The Bulwark and worked out (all by myself) that the GPS is set to how the crow flies, and therefore we needed to follow channel markers to take us around the river to it, rather than try to plow straight through Kingsnorth power station.
At the Bulwark, I agreed to swap boats with Ian V, so that Chris could get his practice in, and perhaps Ian V could have a little go too. Ade, who is a lovely guy when not being Branch Twat, can be incredibly chauvinistic and doesn’t believe women should be behind the wheel or helm of anything. But I get on quite well with him on the whole and he invited me to helm his boat. He gave me strict instructions on the use of the throttle, and threatened me with dire consequences if I stalled it. I was shaking in my boots, and throttled up. And the more I throttled up, the slower the revs got. Until it stalled. Ho hum, felt like twit until Ade realised that he’d run out of fuel. So, not my fault, phew! Threw over anchor, and watched Ian V doing donuts around us while Ade got second fuel tank out and mixed it up, swapped with empty tank, and pulled the cord to fire up the engine. Nothing happened. And when I say nothing, I don’t mean it didn’t fire up, I mean that it didn’t even catch. The cord just rolled back and forth without actually doing anything for quite a long time before Ade was forced to call it a day. It transpired in conversation that the reason he’d taken so long coming out of the marina in the first place was because the engine wouldn’t catch… *headdesk*
Medsac ended up towing Ade’s boat back to the marina. Which meant that Ian V spent an hour pootling slowly and carefully all the way back, Chris was pretty PO’d at not getting to do any practice drills, Ade was not in the least apologetic and Andy was very carefully neutral – he’s deep that boy!
Now back home, taking a break before shooting up to Gravesend to go bowling. Am slightly concerned that my nail extensions are still firmly attached.
Showing posts with label eyes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eyes. Show all posts
Saturday, 3 March 2007
Wednesday, 26 July 2006
Ho hum!
Not really much to report here this week, work has been kinda depressing; the heat being a big part of that, and one has to wonder when air conditioning will become mandatory in this country. And the sagas of death, divorce and house moving are still ongoing. However, the clients make us laugh.
Especially when they’ve reached agreements for all s financial, all things property related and all things child related, yet cannot reach an agreement (as both parties want full custody) of two pedigree red setters. The mediator has found herself helping them arrange a child contact schedule for the dogs, and tentatively agreeing shared residency. So far. Yet today, one party saw fit to inform us that the other party turned up late to walk the animals and therefore the dogs had a half hour less walk, and therefore the other party wasn’t fit to care for the dogs. However, both parties are quite confident that the other party is perfectly capable of caring for the two children… *scratches head*.
Thursday we investigated the possibility of a dive on Sunday. 12.45 meet at Dover marina. Marvellous.
In the evening, went to Shakespeare Beach for a dive. Chris didn’t make it, in fact was last rumoured to have been spotted somewhere near Orpington. I buddied Laura again, and we were last in. As we were doing that elegant entry known as the ‘bum-shuffle’ into the surf (men stand up, walk in a manly way into the surf and get bowled over, looking rather like otters having seizures), the first pair came out, binning the dive due to zero visibility. Therefore, we binned. *pout*
By the time I got home, Chris had found his way home.
I also discovered large vehicles with yellow flashy lights occupying road behind house. Tarmacking road started at 8pm and finished at 11pm.
Friday, they were there again, so on top of residual heat, we had boiling tar heat and smells. Joy. Not actually certain why they needed to tarmac that piece of road, and have working theory that they meant to have done the bit under the very low bridge that has a crater the size of the Marianna Trench in the middle of it.
On Saturday we had Jude over to discuss dive club marketing. Fed her sausage sandwiches and chortled over club photos instead. Mostly consisting of rotund gentlemen of varying ages in snug neoprene. Not a pretty sight in most cases.
Checked dive was still on. It was, but moved to 7am *shudder*. Declined to participate. *big pout*
Saturday evening, we went to Rochester Castle for the Classical Spectacular evening. With a handful of friends and a lot of wine it was very enjoyable. As we managed to raid a different supermarket each, we compared scotch eggs and sausage rolls and stuff. Sainsbury’s won. Probably.
The concert itself was extremely good, although not as enjoyable as last year. The Royal Philharmonic was superb as always. There was a distinct lack of acts for the ladies (last year we had Duel – two fit lads in tight trousers playing violins), but a couple of very good acts for the boys; The Opera Babes who had very nice dresses. But the big surprise, for me at least (cuz as we all know I don’t *do* classical), was Myleen Klasse (sp?).
As far as I was concerned, Myleen was that chick from artificial pop group Hear Say who does the red carpet thing a lot and does the odd spot of DJ-ing somewhere. Actually, she DJ’s on Classic FM and is an accomplished pianist in her own right. And I guess her pop/stage experience has given her a good grounding in showmanship. I can’t say she was a brilliant pianist, but she was extremely good and completely sucked the audience in. Oh, and I want her dress.
An odd point, but with my new eyes, watching the fireworks at the end of the show was fantastic. No smearinesss with glasses, no distortion or drying out or whatever with contacts, just… incredible clarity.
Found out that on Sunday the 7am divers binned it because there was too much swell and poor visibility. According to other divers, the afternoon was beautiful. *very big pout*.
Monday evening the tarmackers were out to play again, but they finished at midnight and are not expected to return.
Tuesday went for physio for my knee, and subject to no problems over the next three weeks, am discharged. Yay.
The heat-wave is horrid. If there was a big pool or I could spend all day every day diving, I would be very happy. The cats are very unhappy, demanding I switch the weather off, the fish are demanding ice cubes and the plants are demanding water. However, the carnivorous plants are big and fat due to the quantity of flies and bugs coming indoors.
Especially when they’ve reached agreements for all s financial, all things property related and all things child related, yet cannot reach an agreement (as both parties want full custody) of two pedigree red setters. The mediator has found herself helping them arrange a child contact schedule for the dogs, and tentatively agreeing shared residency. So far. Yet today, one party saw fit to inform us that the other party turned up late to walk the animals and therefore the dogs had a half hour less walk, and therefore the other party wasn’t fit to care for the dogs. However, both parties are quite confident that the other party is perfectly capable of caring for the two children… *scratches head*.
Thursday we investigated the possibility of a dive on Sunday. 12.45 meet at Dover marina. Marvellous.
In the evening, went to Shakespeare Beach for a dive. Chris didn’t make it, in fact was last rumoured to have been spotted somewhere near Orpington. I buddied Laura again, and we were last in. As we were doing that elegant entry known as the ‘bum-shuffle’ into the surf (men stand up, walk in a manly way into the surf and get bowled over, looking rather like otters having seizures), the first pair came out, binning the dive due to zero visibility. Therefore, we binned. *pout*
By the time I got home, Chris had found his way home.
I also discovered large vehicles with yellow flashy lights occupying road behind house. Tarmacking road started at 8pm and finished at 11pm.
Friday, they were there again, so on top of residual heat, we had boiling tar heat and smells. Joy. Not actually certain why they needed to tarmac that piece of road, and have working theory that they meant to have done the bit under the very low bridge that has a crater the size of the Marianna Trench in the middle of it.
On Saturday we had Jude over to discuss dive club marketing. Fed her sausage sandwiches and chortled over club photos instead. Mostly consisting of rotund gentlemen of varying ages in snug neoprene. Not a pretty sight in most cases.
Checked dive was still on. It was, but moved to 7am *shudder*. Declined to participate. *big pout*
Saturday evening, we went to Rochester Castle for the Classical Spectacular evening. With a handful of friends and a lot of wine it was very enjoyable. As we managed to raid a different supermarket each, we compared scotch eggs and sausage rolls and stuff. Sainsbury’s won. Probably.
The concert itself was extremely good, although not as enjoyable as last year. The Royal Philharmonic was superb as always. There was a distinct lack of acts for the ladies (last year we had Duel – two fit lads in tight trousers playing violins), but a couple of very good acts for the boys; The Opera Babes who had very nice dresses. But the big surprise, for me at least (cuz as we all know I don’t *do* classical), was Myleen Klasse (sp?).
As far as I was concerned, Myleen was that chick from artificial pop group Hear Say who does the red carpet thing a lot and does the odd spot of DJ-ing somewhere. Actually, she DJ’s on Classic FM and is an accomplished pianist in her own right. And I guess her pop/stage experience has given her a good grounding in showmanship. I can’t say she was a brilliant pianist, but she was extremely good and completely sucked the audience in. Oh, and I want her dress.
An odd point, but with my new eyes, watching the fireworks at the end of the show was fantastic. No smearinesss with glasses, no distortion or drying out or whatever with contacts, just… incredible clarity.
Found out that on Sunday the 7am divers binned it because there was too much swell and poor visibility. According to other divers, the afternoon was beautiful. *very big pout*.
Monday evening the tarmackers were out to play again, but they finished at midnight and are not expected to return.
Tuesday went for physio for my knee, and subject to no problems over the next three weeks, am discharged. Yay.
The heat-wave is horrid. If there was a big pool or I could spend all day every day diving, I would be very happy. The cats are very unhappy, demanding I switch the weather off, the fish are demanding ice cubes and the plants are demanding water. However, the carnivorous plants are big and fat due to the quantity of flies and bugs coming indoors.
Tuesday, 18 July 2006
Wine and wibbles
Came to the conclusion last Saturday that it’s far better to get air cylinders refilled mid-week. Mid week, you can count your waiting time in minutes. On a Saturday, you have to count them in hours. Except that no one tells you that, and you’re kind of expected to stand guard over them until they get taken into the compressor room. So that was basically our Saturday.
Watched Dr Who in the evening, last in the series and supposed to be very tearful. I think Chris might have wibbled a bit.
Sunday, St Margaret’s Bay Dive and BBQ got cancelled. Cleaned house instead.
On Tuesday, one of my ladies went for a mammogram in the morning and got in a tizz because they called her back for another and a scan in the afternoon. At 2pm she was, understandably, panicking. At 5pm she was all good because all was in fact good, just a fatty lump, but they’d cocked up the first mammogram.
Boss man was sent to doghouse in disgrace by me, because he left Broadstairs office door wide open and with the keys in the lock overnight. These are premises belonging to a different organisation where we rent rooms. Hence I had to go to meet with boss lady in Broadstairs to collect keys and make peace. Spent a lovely hour sitting in the sun with said boss lady and her colleague drinking lemon tea and bitching about how useless men are when it comes to multi-tasking.
Discovered that Broadstairs is the ultimate stereotype of 4x4 school run comedy and danger. The Highway Code is clearly suspended for the location and duration. Marked rights of way are irrelevant; the bigger the vehicle, the righter it is to be in the way. Indicators are not required.
The four (or six) orange flashy lights on the vehicle corners is strictly for use when the vehicle is stopped in order to make it clear to other road users that the vehicle with all its orange lights flashing is not intending to move from whatever random spot it may be in (in the middle of the road, on the zebra crossing, on pavement or even all of the above in one case) until it switches flashy lights off. At which point, it will move in a random direction at a random speed. Reverse is the thing that makes the car behind move backwards; this is just for fun cuz it’s a power trip you know.
Boss man remained in doghouse.
Went to the flix with Mel to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2. It was good. Not quite as good as the first, but Jack (Johnny Depp) was slurpily terrific and Keira Knightly was very very good, especially when throwing strop on the beach. Orlando was okay, and it was a nice surprise to see some old favourites from the first film. Then last scene Jack is in could have been very wibbly, but the CGI was too much and it was just very silly. Maybe it was meant to be, but I just thought the pit of Sarlaac in Return of the Jedi was twenty-five years ago and much better done. I’m pretty sure Boba Fett would agree with that too.
Wednesday went to see the mad professor for eye check. Departed Ashford 0630 for 0830 appointment in Croydon. At 0815 in Purley, having made 50 yards progress in half an hour, discovered appointment was actually 0900. Arrived 0905. Left eye may need tweaking a little, but will have to wait until all healed and settled before deciding for sure. Left Croydon 10.00, arrived Ashford 10.50.
Thursday. Let boss man out of doghouse.
On Friday the girls came down, and we quickly worked our way through a bottle of wine each.
Saturday slightly hung over, however Designer Outlet was begging for our presence and it would have been rude of us to disappoint. And I really needed another pair of shoes *cough*. Went to Utopia for dinner. Yum. Walked back. Or should I say, tottered back. Or perhaps staggered back would be more appropriate. Whatever it is you do after one bottle of champagne, an irish coffee and an unknown quantity of wine.
Woke up Sunday with no hangover at all, but with a burn on elbow which I cannot recall acquiring. Debated doing something in the sunshine, but after reviewing NCIS and Supernatural season finales, both of which required large quantities of tissues and comfort food, didn’t really get round to it.
Our reticence was not helped by the small group of shirtless young men volunteering to wash cars for a couple of quid. Ghostie got a thorough washing. Jen’s car got a thorough washing. Jill tried very hard to translocate her car from London to Ashford using willpower but it didn’t work.
Back to the joy that is work on Monday. On the plus side, new mediator had first day flying solo. She was very nervous, and needed a lot of support, but she was great. House selling lady has finally, finally sold. All gone through. Now she has to find somewhere to buy.
Remember the down lady from last week? The one with the mother and sons? Her mother died suddenly on Sunday. Obviously devastated, and proceeded to be devastated in our work kitchen.
Boss man’s mother had heart attack Sunday morning and had operation Monday in London and is doing okay. The family was due to go on hols Sunday, so rest of family has gone. Boss man proceeded to be wibbly down the phone.
The clients pretty much all behaved, which has to be a first.
Am thinking that if either Eastenders or Ricky Gervais tried to emulate our office, it would be too unbelievable.
Watched Dr Who in the evening, last in the series and supposed to be very tearful. I think Chris might have wibbled a bit.
Sunday, St Margaret’s Bay Dive and BBQ got cancelled. Cleaned house instead.
On Tuesday, one of my ladies went for a mammogram in the morning and got in a tizz because they called her back for another and a scan in the afternoon. At 2pm she was, understandably, panicking. At 5pm she was all good because all was in fact good, just a fatty lump, but they’d cocked up the first mammogram.
Boss man was sent to doghouse in disgrace by me, because he left Broadstairs office door wide open and with the keys in the lock overnight. These are premises belonging to a different organisation where we rent rooms. Hence I had to go to meet with boss lady in Broadstairs to collect keys and make peace. Spent a lovely hour sitting in the sun with said boss lady and her colleague drinking lemon tea and bitching about how useless men are when it comes to multi-tasking.
Discovered that Broadstairs is the ultimate stereotype of 4x4 school run comedy and danger. The Highway Code is clearly suspended for the location and duration. Marked rights of way are irrelevant; the bigger the vehicle, the righter it is to be in the way. Indicators are not required.
The four (or six) orange flashy lights on the vehicle corners is strictly for use when the vehicle is stopped in order to make it clear to other road users that the vehicle with all its orange lights flashing is not intending to move from whatever random spot it may be in (in the middle of the road, on the zebra crossing, on pavement or even all of the above in one case) until it switches flashy lights off. At which point, it will move in a random direction at a random speed. Reverse is the thing that makes the car behind move backwards; this is just for fun cuz it’s a power trip you know.
Boss man remained in doghouse.
Went to the flix with Mel to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2. It was good. Not quite as good as the first, but Jack (Johnny Depp) was slurpily terrific and Keira Knightly was very very good, especially when throwing strop on the beach. Orlando was okay, and it was a nice surprise to see some old favourites from the first film. Then last scene Jack is in could have been very wibbly, but the CGI was too much and it was just very silly. Maybe it was meant to be, but I just thought the pit of Sarlaac in Return of the Jedi was twenty-five years ago and much better done. I’m pretty sure Boba Fett would agree with that too.
Wednesday went to see the mad professor for eye check. Departed Ashford 0630 for 0830 appointment in Croydon. At 0815 in Purley, having made 50 yards progress in half an hour, discovered appointment was actually 0900. Arrived 0905. Left eye may need tweaking a little, but will have to wait until all healed and settled before deciding for sure. Left Croydon 10.00, arrived Ashford 10.50.
Thursday. Let boss man out of doghouse.
On Friday the girls came down, and we quickly worked our way through a bottle of wine each.
Saturday slightly hung over, however Designer Outlet was begging for our presence and it would have been rude of us to disappoint. And I really needed another pair of shoes *cough*. Went to Utopia for dinner. Yum. Walked back. Or should I say, tottered back. Or perhaps staggered back would be more appropriate. Whatever it is you do after one bottle of champagne, an irish coffee and an unknown quantity of wine.
Woke up Sunday with no hangover at all, but with a burn on elbow which I cannot recall acquiring. Debated doing something in the sunshine, but after reviewing NCIS and Supernatural season finales, both of which required large quantities of tissues and comfort food, didn’t really get round to it.
Our reticence was not helped by the small group of shirtless young men volunteering to wash cars for a couple of quid. Ghostie got a thorough washing. Jen’s car got a thorough washing. Jill tried very hard to translocate her car from London to Ashford using willpower but it didn’t work.
Back to the joy that is work on Monday. On the plus side, new mediator had first day flying solo. She was very nervous, and needed a lot of support, but she was great. House selling lady has finally, finally sold. All gone through. Now she has to find somewhere to buy.
Remember the down lady from last week? The one with the mother and sons? Her mother died suddenly on Sunday. Obviously devastated, and proceeded to be devastated in our work kitchen.
Boss man’s mother had heart attack Sunday morning and had operation Monday in London and is doing okay. The family was due to go on hols Sunday, so rest of family has gone. Boss man proceeded to be wibbly down the phone.
The clients pretty much all behaved, which has to be a first.
Am thinking that if either Eastenders or Ricky Gervais tried to emulate our office, it would be too unbelievable.
Saturday, 8 July 2006
That was the week, such as it was
Got home last Friday, from excellent holiday, and what was the first thing we did? Call our Dive Officer and see if there were any spaces going on any of the dives at the weekend. Fortunately, our Dive Officer (Andy) is a very, very nice man and was delighted that we were back, due to us being one of most reliable (not to mention ‘Ard) pairs of divers the club has, and immediately offered us two spots on Sunday afternoon.
Second on the agenda was setting up my wireless network at home, which after a very long conversation with a very nice lady at AOL works brilliantly. My lappy and I are therefore over the moon and expect a long and happy future…
Third on the agenda was emergency appointment for getting horridly painful tooth pulled. After nearly ten years of fighting, it was time for the molar to go. Once pulled, the dentist’s eye nearly popped out of his head, as the root was surprisingly long and snaggled. Root canal would have been… interesting.
Some might think my concept of priorities might be slightly skewed, but hey, it works for me.
Saturday was spent unpacking, washing and shopping. Bleargh. Also went for eye check up which was okay. Have to go see the Mad Professor in a couple of weeks though which is scary. With the world cup in the afternoon, it was kinda ironic that traffic on the way up at 3pm was very quiet, but the M25 on the way back at 4.30 was grid locked with many frustrated footie fans who had hoped to be settled in front of the box with beer and crisp, and not overheating in their cars.
Sunday we went diving. After a little trouble trying to locate a decent wreck, we eventually went to The Cement Wreck. I dived with Andy, while Chris dived with Judith. It was very pleasant, a couple of metres visibility and the highlight for me other than, of course, the cement bags (cough), were the really big fat starfish systematically munching their way through a large colony of mussels.
Monday was the dreaded return to work. Dreaded because one never knows quite what state things are in. But there was nothing to worry about, so that was alright.
Apart from the weather being horridly hot and sticky and close.
Apart from one of my ladies wandering around in shock due to her husband informing her on Saturday that he wants a divorce.
Apart another of my ladies wandering around in a snit because the selling of her house which is right on the point of exchange is in the process of being cocked up yet again.
Apart from yet another of my ladies being very down due to her mother and sons being over demanding all at once.
In a small office like ours, it proved to be a very depressing week.
Tuesday morning went to physio and true to form, my knee, which is highly temperamental, decided to be on its absolute best behaviour, exactly when I didn’t want it to be. Pah!
Sent very down lady on an impromptu day off which neither sons nor mother knew about so she could have a bit of ‘me’ time and get her head together.
Wednesday, very down lady was much happier. Weather forecast promised thunderstorm, therefore concerned that planned evening dive might not happen.
No thunderstorm materialised so went for the dive off Shakespeare Beach in Dover. It was glorious! Took 14yo ocean diver out for her first ocean dive and since she likes wildlife type things, it was fun to explore together and just about everything came out to play.
Loads of swimming crabs, some mating and some moulting and some just demonstrating their ‘ard attitude. Shy edible crabs, and skittery little spider crab. Several lobsters said hello. A couple of whelks showed us exactly why they’re known as ‘snails on steroids’ as they zipped across the sand. A plaice was having a very civilised evening supper on a shelf with a swimming crab and a lobster.
Something not as yet positively identified was hiding in cave. We think it was either a very lost scampi, or possible a baby crawfish, neither of which is very likely. Maybe it was just a mutated shrimp that was twice the size it should be, we are talking Dover harbour after all. The tom pot blennies were out in force, and we talked to one who took great delight in playing tug ‘o’ war with my glove. Little ocean diver was very taken with all the tiny sea squirts on the wall, and the fan worms who popped their fans in and put then put them back out for her.
Getting out was fun. The surge plus the steepness of the beach plus the weight of kit we have to carry equals difficult. Little ocean diver and I were last out, and with five big macho muscley type boys already on the beach, one might think that two girly types might get a little help. But oh, no. They stood and watched. (pout).
Thursday, things hit divorcing lady, which was very sad. Thunderstorm still due to materialise at any moment.
Friday morning house moving lady finally vented frustration over coffee and felt much better.
Friday lunchtime down lady vented mother/sons frustration over wine and felt much, much better.
Friday afternoon, the boss called in all happy and chirpy and made me laugh.
Thunderstorm that was still due any minute still showed no sign of actually arriving.
Friday evening Chris cooked lovely meal, we watched Princess Bride and we examined bottle of wine very carefully.
Saturday morning, still no sign of thunderstorm. Am wondering if it got the memo.
Second on the agenda was setting up my wireless network at home, which after a very long conversation with a very nice lady at AOL works brilliantly. My lappy and I are therefore over the moon and expect a long and happy future…
Third on the agenda was emergency appointment for getting horridly painful tooth pulled. After nearly ten years of fighting, it was time for the molar to go. Once pulled, the dentist’s eye nearly popped out of his head, as the root was surprisingly long and snaggled. Root canal would have been… interesting.
Some might think my concept of priorities might be slightly skewed, but hey, it works for me.
Saturday was spent unpacking, washing and shopping. Bleargh. Also went for eye check up which was okay. Have to go see the Mad Professor in a couple of weeks though which is scary. With the world cup in the afternoon, it was kinda ironic that traffic on the way up at 3pm was very quiet, but the M25 on the way back at 4.30 was grid locked with many frustrated footie fans who had hoped to be settled in front of the box with beer and crisp, and not overheating in their cars.
Sunday we went diving. After a little trouble trying to locate a decent wreck, we eventually went to The Cement Wreck. I dived with Andy, while Chris dived with Judith. It was very pleasant, a couple of metres visibility and the highlight for me other than, of course, the cement bags (cough), were the really big fat starfish systematically munching their way through a large colony of mussels.
Monday was the dreaded return to work. Dreaded because one never knows quite what state things are in. But there was nothing to worry about, so that was alright.
Apart from the weather being horridly hot and sticky and close.
Apart from one of my ladies wandering around in shock due to her husband informing her on Saturday that he wants a divorce.
Apart another of my ladies wandering around in a snit because the selling of her house which is right on the point of exchange is in the process of being cocked up yet again.
Apart from yet another of my ladies being very down due to her mother and sons being over demanding all at once.
In a small office like ours, it proved to be a very depressing week.
Tuesday morning went to physio and true to form, my knee, which is highly temperamental, decided to be on its absolute best behaviour, exactly when I didn’t want it to be. Pah!
Sent very down lady on an impromptu day off which neither sons nor mother knew about so she could have a bit of ‘me’ time and get her head together.
Wednesday, very down lady was much happier. Weather forecast promised thunderstorm, therefore concerned that planned evening dive might not happen.
No thunderstorm materialised so went for the dive off Shakespeare Beach in Dover. It was glorious! Took 14yo ocean diver out for her first ocean dive and since she likes wildlife type things, it was fun to explore together and just about everything came out to play.
Loads of swimming crabs, some mating and some moulting and some just demonstrating their ‘ard attitude. Shy edible crabs, and skittery little spider crab. Several lobsters said hello. A couple of whelks showed us exactly why they’re known as ‘snails on steroids’ as they zipped across the sand. A plaice was having a very civilised evening supper on a shelf with a swimming crab and a lobster.
Something not as yet positively identified was hiding in cave. We think it was either a very lost scampi, or possible a baby crawfish, neither of which is very likely. Maybe it was just a mutated shrimp that was twice the size it should be, we are talking Dover harbour after all. The tom pot blennies were out in force, and we talked to one who took great delight in playing tug ‘o’ war with my glove. Little ocean diver was very taken with all the tiny sea squirts on the wall, and the fan worms who popped their fans in and put then put them back out for her.
Getting out was fun. The surge plus the steepness of the beach plus the weight of kit we have to carry equals difficult. Little ocean diver and I were last out, and with five big macho muscley type boys already on the beach, one might think that two girly types might get a little help. But oh, no. They stood and watched. (pout).
Thursday, things hit divorcing lady, which was very sad. Thunderstorm still due to materialise at any moment.
Friday morning house moving lady finally vented frustration over coffee and felt much better.
Friday lunchtime down lady vented mother/sons frustration over wine and felt much, much better.
Friday afternoon, the boss called in all happy and chirpy and made me laugh.
Thunderstorm that was still due any minute still showed no sign of actually arriving.
Friday evening Chris cooked lovely meal, we watched Princess Bride and we examined bottle of wine very carefully.
Saturday morning, still no sign of thunderstorm. Am wondering if it got the memo.
Sunday, 7 May 2006
The week that wasn't
This last week is one of those where you wish you hadn’t bothered.
Monday we cancelled going to see Chris’ mum and dad (which worked out well as it happened), because we were too shattered to even contemplate the merest possibility of anything as strenuous as getting out of bed. Vegged all day, and with some serious willpower managed to shop and forage for food.
Tuesday came and went.
Wednesday I had an eye check, which was good, next one in two months. However I had to take an afternoons leave to get to Croydon for the appointment, and figured I would be home by four, so I could have an hour or so of ‘me’-time before heading up Chris’, perhaps a little earlier than the arranged 7-ish. However, traffic had other ideas.
Starting with the double decker bus that broke down in the middle of Croydon High Street, got past that, and pootling along when large six wheeler removal van shoots red light to cut in front of us and then proceeds at a leisurely 15 miles an hour all the way to the A22 dual carriageway. Pootled past it there, and with anticipatory glee aimed for the slip road that would take me onto the M25 and vaguely wondered why vehicles were parked on the bridge over the junction. Sailed up slip road, and discovered that the M25 had been turned into a car park.
Fortunately we started moving within a few moments, and spent the rest of the M25 at a steady cruising speed of 25 miles an hour. M26 speeded up to 45 miles and hour, and M20 hit 70mph for the entire half mile until Maidstone whereupon we were back to 45mph. After Maidstone it all picked up after J8 I thought we were home free. (sigh) Two lots of traffic slowing specifically to rubberneck broken down old bangers with blue flashy lights parked next door to them and a police car doing 65mph that no one wanted to overtake, and eventually got home at 5.30. (funk)
Had very nice evening at Chris, with an experiment in stuffed globe artichokes, which was very nice.
Thursday was migraine day, and for the first time *ever* I got to the Migrileive in time, and was astounded to find that actually, it does work.
Friday I dropped my car off at Invicta to have some electrical wiring in her door fixed (something that had been booked for a while), some paintwork fixed and her front bumper realigned. At three pm they called me to say that the paintwork is fixed, but that the bumper can’t be realigned, it needs to go to the bodyshop, oh and by the way they tried and failed to fit the electrical part in the door, because they’d been sent the wrong part. Sorry madam.
Requested courtesy vehicle to pick me up. 1605 was the only time they could do, I couldn’t do til 5.30. Booked a cab for 5.30 to take me over. 5.40 cab hadn’t arrived, rang them and they said they hadn’t got a booking – the lady I quoted had gone home at 5. Awfully sorry, got one two streets away, I’ll send it now. Invicta closes at 6, I got there at 5.55.
Very stroppy me took car home. Fed animals of varying descriptions. Noticed on way back out door that when they’d put the bumper back, they’d folded one of the headlight seals in on itself. Not a prob, I can fix that myself. Pootled onto M20 heading up to Chris’ and thought What’s that windy rushing sound? Door hasn’t been refitted properly.
I was very very happy with my previous garage (Caffyns), and only went to Invicta because Caffyns is a Vauxhall/Skoda dealer and couldn’t get some of the parts. Moral of the story is, if you want your Ford fixed, go to a Vauxhall garage.
Set VCR to tape programme I intended to watch with Chris on Sat evening.
Had a very nice evening at Chris’.On Sat, he went off to introduce Tom (his son) to the concept of rollercoasters while I went into work, cunningly avoiding the clients Charles had in, and spent some of the day catching up on ‘me’ time. Chris came to mine and he watched Dr Who while I fiddled. David Tennent is far better than Christopher Eccelestone, and I got distracted a few times whilst watching. Discovered that I’d failed to record the programme I’d intended to watch with Chris.
On Sunday we got up at 8 to go for a dive out of Dover. We had to be at the marina for 10. At 9.10, Chris discovered that he’d forgotten a critical item. His wetsuit. 9 degree water is a tad chilly in just ones swim trunks and without the benefit of buckets of chip fat. So he went sprinting off to Rochester while I went directly to Dover. With much luck, and all the other guys offering willing hands to get latecomer ready, we were in the RIB heading for open water at 10.30.
Beautifully smooth ocean, vertical visabilty high, no wind or rain. But this is Dover. Lateral visability was end of nose on the surface due to the fog. Decided that planned dive was not advisable as we were too close to shipping lane, and tugs have a very real history of not being too clever or observant in clear weather, let alone fog. Keeping ahead of the tide, we went a bit further shoreward towards Folkestone and anchored over the Leicester.
Jumped in, and started descent. Now, there’s a very importatant rule that if you don’t want to dive, you don’t dive, even if you can’t say exactly why you don’t want to dive. Dangerous things tend to happen if you ignore that gut feeling. So, first thing about a foot below the surface, one of my fins gets tangled in the shot line. I untangle it and my breathing rate goes up, as it would, but won’t come down again. Weight belt slips askew – still firmly attached, but with uneven distribution leaves me off balance, and breathing isn’t slowing down.
Neutrally buoyant is the idea, however I’m too neutrally buoyant, inasmuchas, with breathing rate too high, I no longer have my normal lung control to descend, although actually, I do manage to get down to about 6 metres, but don’t realise it as I’ve got a bit disoriented. Indicate to Chris to halt, I need a moment, and we hover for a moment or two whilst I try to bring breathing rate down. It’s not happening and I look down whilst I decided what to do; going up probably, but would I be happy going down again? Gut spoke up with very loud voice; No. Binned dive, surfaced and returned to RIB. Oh well, Chris and I’ve bottled a dive each so far this season; it happens.
Now at home chilling after a very hard day examining the fog banks off Dover/Folkestone.
Monday we cancelled going to see Chris’ mum and dad (which worked out well as it happened), because we were too shattered to even contemplate the merest possibility of anything as strenuous as getting out of bed. Vegged all day, and with some serious willpower managed to shop and forage for food.
Tuesday came and went.
Wednesday I had an eye check, which was good, next one in two months. However I had to take an afternoons leave to get to Croydon for the appointment, and figured I would be home by four, so I could have an hour or so of ‘me’-time before heading up Chris’, perhaps a little earlier than the arranged 7-ish. However, traffic had other ideas.
Starting with the double decker bus that broke down in the middle of Croydon High Street, got past that, and pootling along when large six wheeler removal van shoots red light to cut in front of us and then proceeds at a leisurely 15 miles an hour all the way to the A22 dual carriageway. Pootled past it there, and with anticipatory glee aimed for the slip road that would take me onto the M25 and vaguely wondered why vehicles were parked on the bridge over the junction. Sailed up slip road, and discovered that the M25 had been turned into a car park.
Fortunately we started moving within a few moments, and spent the rest of the M25 at a steady cruising speed of 25 miles an hour. M26 speeded up to 45 miles and hour, and M20 hit 70mph for the entire half mile until Maidstone whereupon we were back to 45mph. After Maidstone it all picked up after J8 I thought we were home free. (sigh) Two lots of traffic slowing specifically to rubberneck broken down old bangers with blue flashy lights parked next door to them and a police car doing 65mph that no one wanted to overtake, and eventually got home at 5.30. (funk)
Had very nice evening at Chris, with an experiment in stuffed globe artichokes, which was very nice.
Thursday was migraine day, and for the first time *ever* I got to the Migrileive in time, and was astounded to find that actually, it does work.
Friday I dropped my car off at Invicta to have some electrical wiring in her door fixed (something that had been booked for a while), some paintwork fixed and her front bumper realigned. At three pm they called me to say that the paintwork is fixed, but that the bumper can’t be realigned, it needs to go to the bodyshop, oh and by the way they tried and failed to fit the electrical part in the door, because they’d been sent the wrong part. Sorry madam.
Requested courtesy vehicle to pick me up. 1605 was the only time they could do, I couldn’t do til 5.30. Booked a cab for 5.30 to take me over. 5.40 cab hadn’t arrived, rang them and they said they hadn’t got a booking – the lady I quoted had gone home at 5. Awfully sorry, got one two streets away, I’ll send it now. Invicta closes at 6, I got there at 5.55.
Very stroppy me took car home. Fed animals of varying descriptions. Noticed on way back out door that when they’d put the bumper back, they’d folded one of the headlight seals in on itself. Not a prob, I can fix that myself. Pootled onto M20 heading up to Chris’ and thought What’s that windy rushing sound? Door hasn’t been refitted properly.
I was very very happy with my previous garage (Caffyns), and only went to Invicta because Caffyns is a Vauxhall/Skoda dealer and couldn’t get some of the parts. Moral of the story is, if you want your Ford fixed, go to a Vauxhall garage.
Set VCR to tape programme I intended to watch with Chris on Sat evening.
Had a very nice evening at Chris’.On Sat, he went off to introduce Tom (his son) to the concept of rollercoasters while I went into work, cunningly avoiding the clients Charles had in, and spent some of the day catching up on ‘me’ time. Chris came to mine and he watched Dr Who while I fiddled. David Tennent is far better than Christopher Eccelestone, and I got distracted a few times whilst watching. Discovered that I’d failed to record the programme I’d intended to watch with Chris.
On Sunday we got up at 8 to go for a dive out of Dover. We had to be at the marina for 10. At 9.10, Chris discovered that he’d forgotten a critical item. His wetsuit. 9 degree water is a tad chilly in just ones swim trunks and without the benefit of buckets of chip fat. So he went sprinting off to Rochester while I went directly to Dover. With much luck, and all the other guys offering willing hands to get latecomer ready, we were in the RIB heading for open water at 10.30.
Beautifully smooth ocean, vertical visabilty high, no wind or rain. But this is Dover. Lateral visability was end of nose on the surface due to the fog. Decided that planned dive was not advisable as we were too close to shipping lane, and tugs have a very real history of not being too clever or observant in clear weather, let alone fog. Keeping ahead of the tide, we went a bit further shoreward towards Folkestone and anchored over the Leicester.
Jumped in, and started descent. Now, there’s a very importatant rule that if you don’t want to dive, you don’t dive, even if you can’t say exactly why you don’t want to dive. Dangerous things tend to happen if you ignore that gut feeling. So, first thing about a foot below the surface, one of my fins gets tangled in the shot line. I untangle it and my breathing rate goes up, as it would, but won’t come down again. Weight belt slips askew – still firmly attached, but with uneven distribution leaves me off balance, and breathing isn’t slowing down.
Neutrally buoyant is the idea, however I’m too neutrally buoyant, inasmuchas, with breathing rate too high, I no longer have my normal lung control to descend, although actually, I do manage to get down to about 6 metres, but don’t realise it as I’ve got a bit disoriented. Indicate to Chris to halt, I need a moment, and we hover for a moment or two whilst I try to bring breathing rate down. It’s not happening and I look down whilst I decided what to do; going up probably, but would I be happy going down again? Gut spoke up with very loud voice; No. Binned dive, surfaced and returned to RIB. Oh well, Chris and I’ve bottled a dive each so far this season; it happens.
Now at home chilling after a very hard day examining the fog banks off Dover/Folkestone.
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.
Tuesday, 14 March 2006
Stuff!
Scariness abounds! Tentatively I’m having both eyes done on 27th. First to be done first thing - 8am (so that’s what, a 5am train??!), and very much subject to check up 6 hours later, the other at 4pm. The hint of a problem, possibility of infection, rejection or eye being slow to adjust and the second eye will be rescheduled.
Chris and I went on an O2 course on Sat and are now qualified to administer oxygen to divers involved in diving incidents. So if you’re a snorkeler involved in a diving incident then tough. Having on a previous course demonstrated that I could do mouth to mouth/nose brilliantly but only just scrape through chest compressions, I managed on Saturday to demonstrate an inability to even locate the mouth, however my chest compressions were much better. Chris, however, was the only person on the course to score a perfect 100%. We could have all got an extra brownie point if any of us had thought to actually call for an ambulance.
On Sunday we went to DiverSE, a BS-AC conference where we fully expected to do a lot of snoring as deadly dull procedures and DO It Right enthusiasts pontificated at length. However, apart from me running out of steam halfway through the afternoon, we spent the whole day bright eyed and bushy tailed as almost all speakers were very entertaining. Highlights…
We had Mike Stevens from BDMLR (the people that rescued the whale from the Thames) who gave an exceptionally entertaining presentation where he translated the media’s attempts at explaining what was going on, into what was *actually* going on. The classic being the ‘laying on of hands’ bit. They were actually keeping their hands warm… I’m serious… honest…
Welsh Nutcase. I mean, Martyn Farr. Who is an expert (whoops! Can’t use that word!) leading cave diver. Short bouncy chap with far too much energy for any day of the week let alone a Sunday. I always thought cave diving was pootling along underwater and finding holes in reefs and cliffs to explore, but no! Well, yes, but also no. These guy go spelunking in places like Wookee(sp?) Hole and walk/climb/slide through cliffs over underground lakes and scaling walls with large quantities of ropes and cylinders so that they can go and dive in the (rather deep) puddles at the bottom of the caves. Or half way up them, or whatever. This includes diving through gaps that are just a couple of feet high. He spent the entire time trying to persuade us he wasn’t nuts, but a bouncy welsh person a Sunday morning really wasn’t going to succeed with that. We did laugh an awful lot though.
And Jack Ingles, expert (damn that word again, not allowed! Something to do with ex = has been + spert = useless drip) leading technical diver. Who tried to persuade us that diving to great depths with many cylinders for a couple of hours really is worth the four hours you have to spend hanging on a trapeze a few metres under the boat staring at the next persons backside. Need a bit more convincing on that one. Especially the bit about needing adult nappies.
There were other speakers who were very entertaining also, but I think I’ve bored you silly enough. Tomorrow I have the LSC thing at which I fully expect to be catching up on sleep.
Chris and I went on an O2 course on Sat and are now qualified to administer oxygen to divers involved in diving incidents. So if you’re a snorkeler involved in a diving incident then tough. Having on a previous course demonstrated that I could do mouth to mouth/nose brilliantly but only just scrape through chest compressions, I managed on Saturday to demonstrate an inability to even locate the mouth, however my chest compressions were much better. Chris, however, was the only person on the course to score a perfect 100%. We could have all got an extra brownie point if any of us had thought to actually call for an ambulance.
On Sunday we went to DiverSE, a BS-AC conference where we fully expected to do a lot of snoring as deadly dull procedures and DO It Right enthusiasts pontificated at length. However, apart from me running out of steam halfway through the afternoon, we spent the whole day bright eyed and bushy tailed as almost all speakers were very entertaining. Highlights…
We had Mike Stevens from BDMLR (the people that rescued the whale from the Thames) who gave an exceptionally entertaining presentation where he translated the media’s attempts at explaining what was going on, into what was *actually* going on. The classic being the ‘laying on of hands’ bit. They were actually keeping their hands warm… I’m serious… honest…
Welsh Nutcase. I mean, Martyn Farr. Who is an expert (whoops! Can’t use that word!) leading cave diver. Short bouncy chap with far too much energy for any day of the week let alone a Sunday. I always thought cave diving was pootling along underwater and finding holes in reefs and cliffs to explore, but no! Well, yes, but also no. These guy go spelunking in places like Wookee(sp?) Hole and walk/climb/slide through cliffs over underground lakes and scaling walls with large quantities of ropes and cylinders so that they can go and dive in the (rather deep) puddles at the bottom of the caves. Or half way up them, or whatever. This includes diving through gaps that are just a couple of feet high. He spent the entire time trying to persuade us he wasn’t nuts, but a bouncy welsh person a Sunday morning really wasn’t going to succeed with that. We did laugh an awful lot though.
And Jack Ingles, expert (damn that word again, not allowed! Something to do with ex = has been + spert = useless drip) leading technical diver. Who tried to persuade us that diving to great depths with many cylinders for a couple of hours really is worth the four hours you have to spend hanging on a trapeze a few metres under the boat staring at the next persons backside. Need a bit more convincing on that one. Especially the bit about needing adult nappies.
There were other speakers who were very entertaining also, but I think I’ve bored you silly enough. Tomorrow I have the LSC thing at which I fully expect to be catching up on sleep.
Thursday, 23 February 2006
Update the next
First off, by some miracle and a great deal of bespoke cryptography talent by the lecturer in interpreting my handwriting, I passed my exams!
Secondly, the Mad Professor (eye surgeon) has cleared me to have implanted contact lenses. One eye is scheduled for 13/14 March, the other 27/28 March.
Secondly, the Mad Professor (eye surgeon) has cleared me to have implanted contact lenses. One eye is scheduled for 13/14 March, the other 27/28 March.
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