Better out than in

I've just realised what a freaky picture I had on yesterday's blog. oh well. I'll keep it there redardless to disturb you all.
This looking after myself thing is not going too well so far. Last night I dropped a heavy china bowl on my big toe and nearly passed out from the pain. I had to down some ibuprofen(having dizzily hobbled to the bathroom cabinet), and lie on the sofa moaning/biting the cushion in agony. I tell you- it was almost as painful as childbirth, and I really know what that feels like having had a natural 30 hour labour! Now I have a black toe and a limp, but nothing nice to show for it.
Later on, I thought I'd force myself to eat something wholesome, and heated up a chicken casserole (you can guess where this is going...) to have with some green veg. It was to be the first healthy thing I'd eaten since the break up (having consumed either nothing or comfort foods since Friday), and had, ironically, been made by Andy last week. Four hours after dinner, I woke up with horrific stomach cramps and consequently spent the early hours with my head down the loo.
So pleasant. And now the third time I've been sick in a week (didn't mention first one- but I puked after reading poems at the school- 24 hour bug or something). My body must be purging itself at the moment or something...
Feeling alright now though. Off to rearrange the flat for further purging....

Boil in the Bed

It's funny (not ha ha funny of course, but then again it's always good to see the humourous side of shit) splitting up with someone, because you become slightly senile- well- I do anyhow. Emotional trauma puts the brain into some kind of shock mode, where you can still function, but you occasionally miss something crucial entirely, like eating for example, or remembering to put the milk in the fridge and not the oven (I did this today). Saturday night, 24 hours after doing the deed, I did my obligatory night of anaesthetising myself with a couple of bottles of rose, crying onto a warm, friendly shoulder and, let's not forget to mention, disco bopping solo at 1am to loud cheesy women's anthems of independence. After head banging my way through a few Franklin and Gaynor numbers, I promptly vomited and passed out.
Having got that necessity of heartache out the way, I'm now on a mission to take care of myself, only last night I nearly burnt myself to death having forgot (soberly) to switch off the pre-heat of the electric blanket. I woke up in the early hours soaked in sweat and thought I'd scolded my entire body, but luckily hadn't and had just gone a bit red.
I'm hoping to get through the rest of the week without doing too much damage to myself. Unfortunatly, I had my NHS ID badge done today, and I look like I've done a few rounds with Mike Tyson my eyes are so puffy. The lady who did my pic said I look like the Mona Lisa (this has bizarrely been said before) only happier.....

Birds Flying High

Sports Relief tomorrow and I think I am going to walk it. Literally. As in- I haven't done much training and I will have to walk as opposed to run.
Oh- and by the way- Andy and I have split up. But it's OK. It was my (painstaking)decision......

Soundtrack: Nina Simone-Feeling Good (although I am tempted, as prompted by Jo Duvet, to put Aretha and the Eurythmics- Sisters are doing it for themselves.... tee hee)
General listening: Franz Ferdinand's fantastic album: You Could Have It So Much Better

I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows......ooo I've got that Friday feeling!

My work has turned out to not be the nightmare it once was earlier on in the week and I am slowly seeing the wood for the trees, as it were. My lovely boss Tim even gave me some cake today. Now they never did that at the Guardian. All we'd get there is the strong aroma of cheese wafting through the office as the "goodies" tray was wheeled into Alan Rusbridger's office, to feed whatever VIP was meeting with him that day. When I was pregnant there the smell of Camembert would make me run to the loos and vom. I am preferring the NHS already. Oh and incidentally- those minutes I took on Weds were great, apparantely, so I have blagged my first meeting somehow.And cornering a nurse (oo matron) to get her to give me a glossary of kidney lingo sure helped too. That is now my new motto- if in doubt;grab a nurse.
What's with all the '80s music references in my blog titles? Gosh I am showing my age. And speaking of the '80s (although he died at the beginning of 1980 so they were a '70s band really..) we watched 'Control' yesterday, the Ian Curtis film by Anton Corbijn. Very brilliant, haunting film, and also quite authentic (although I'm sure things weren't THAT old fashioned in the '70s (some props looked more '40s than anything)- or maybe Macclesfield was a bit behind the times- quite likely). Only thing was, and maybe it's because we were watching it in the day, the film dragged a bit, to the point where Andy even said "God I wish he would just get on with it" (meaning top himself). Oh dear... glad they were his words not mine, but I know what he meant. Towards the end it gets quite painful and you do just want Curtis to do it, but it is a film, and in real life I sure wish he hadn't. Very sad. He was a one off, like us all. And so beautiful too...(although, let's face it, if the film is to be believed, he was a bit of a c@*t to his poor wife)
(But how odd for me to have a pic of him under a comment about Friday elation..oh well- it's my blog and I'll juxtapose happiness and misery as much as I like...and anyway- it was bound to continue having made a Smiths lyric cheery in the first place)

Soundtrack: Joy Division-Transmission

Tell me why I don't like Wednesdays.....

My new job is turning into a bit of a nightmare but I'll get through it. Give it a week, I reckon, and I'll be doing the job standing on my head, but for now I have been somewhat thrown in the deep end and am scrambling about in the dark trying to work out what's what. Today I did the minutes for a three hour kidney consultant's meeting and my brain nearly exploded. They may as well have been talking in japanese for all the jargon they used, and me not knowing what was being said, I just wrote it ALL down, all THREE HOURS of it. But at least I did. I'll be typing those minutes up tomorrow exactly as they happened and none of it will make any sense, but hopefully no one will realise I haven't got a f*&@ing clue what they said in that meeting.
Ah it's good to have even more of a reason to drink of an evening. After this day, I leapt off the bus and jumped straight into my local Threshers for some red wine to ease the headache, repetitive strain injury to my writing hand, and confused facial expression.

Headaches and Tsunamis

Christ on a bike- what a day. First morning in my new job and my head is spinning with figures and cost code numbers. I am confused and worried that it will never make sense- it will of course I just can't imagine that yet. Also I have my own bleedin (not liturally of course- well I thought it might confuse you being in a hospital) office which is ace and my boss still seems like a really nice guy. Then, after a 10 minute lunch stop off at home- where I managed one slice of ryvita with peanut butter (thanks for not stocking up house-husband), I headed to Sadie's school. I have just had the pleasure of reading my poems to 90 school children under the age of 6 for an hour. My head is pounding but it went well and one of the teachers wants a copy of one of my poems to keep for herself she likes it so much.
The sea at the end of my road looks like it's about to surge over Brighton like a mini tsunami. I love storms but I will not be running along the seafront tonight, as planned. I would be knocked on the head by some flying pebbles I should imagine, or just made to run sideways like a crab to avoid imbalance. Neither is a good look.
Seen lots of my favourite people lately. Jo and Joe came to stay last week, and then Celine has been to visit this weekend... It's great when you get reminders of what great friends you have. Shame most of them live miles from Brighton, but I guess it means that when I do see them I attempt to devour their greatness entirely, and not take them for granted.

Knock Me Up

Rather bizarrely, my blog is working it's way backwards at the moment, which means to all you wonderful people reading it, and I know you all work at it the wrong way, it will be in the correct chronological order.
The reason for going back over a week ago is that I need to comment on a band I saw the night before our trip to Iceland who somewhat blew my mind and made me go slightly weak at the knees. We had free tickets to see Pete Doherty, who none of us actually like, but thought we'd head along for a laugh. The tickets were £20 to the other punters so we thought maybe it would be worth the tube ride across town to Whitechapel's The Rhythm Factory. On arrival, after having passed the really rude bouncers, I suddenly clocked my younger brother snogging the face off some young thing. He's such a tart. And anyway-what the hell was he doing out at the same seedy venue as me on a school night? Weird coincidence and lovely to bump into him, and once we'd recovered from the shock of how random this was, he informed me he wasn't here to see Pete Doherty, but his friends' band The Knock. After a few beers, the band came on and, unexpectedly- most of my brother's mates are quite straight accountant types so I was a bit worried- they were absolutely blimin great- electro Bowie tunes and amazing stage presence. My friends and I were liturally drooling at the end of their set. I have now been asked to get the band some gigs in Brighton, and I will oblige accordingly. check out their myspace:
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=20471087

Soundtrack: The Knock-Talk