Another first class lounge…

Four broken nails. Innumerable bananas and bags of crisps. Hugs from people I would have preferred hand shakes from.
London…sorry, Hatfield. I’m done.

Sitting in the 1st class lounge in Kings Cross today.

Miserable bunch.

I’ve got an hour for my train. Hopefully some of them will go soon so I can get to a power socket.

I can honestly sat this has been too much. But you dont know until you try eh!? I have firmly stated not again. For a video meeting that lasted 40 mins, I can call in next time. Pish.

So, I’m already tired and hungry before I’ve started the homeward leg.

Probably going to sleep on the train, in between bananas obviously.


This was the FODMAP intolerance acceptable meal substitute on the way down. I can hardly wait..


These were the part two meal sub.. sigh.

Get me home. Please.


‘Are you fit for travel?’

Have been back at work about a month now.
Hell of a month. But I’ve done it.

Boss man calls me and the conversation goes thus:

“Hello, how are you?”
“I’m ok, it’s all ticking over.”
“No, not work, how are you?”
“Oh, I would give myself 75%”
“Good. Are you fit for travel?'”

And that is how I find myself sitting in the first class lounge at Edinburgh Waverly, heading to sunny Hatfield (ahaa) to have an over night for a one hour meeting tomorrow.

12 hours round trip for a one hour meeting.

Also, tomorrow’s morning has turned into some fantastic meet and greet where everyone down south is congregating in Hatfield … To see me..
Freak out. Lets all poke the admin, see what she does.

I’ve just broke a nail too. But remembered to pack my nail varnish, so can carry that off. No worries.

The funny thing is, I used to get so very stressed abut travel. Literally to the point of being trapped in my flat in Chingford, getting a cab to work, lift back home and a cab anywhere else.
I have always been slightly better with trains. I think its where you can get up and walk around a bit and are served food.
And thank God I can afford (or on this occasion have work pay for it) first class.

It may make me sound snobby, but the lounge, the leg room, food, limitless coffee and usually no stressed children. Yes, that makes it better for me. First class all the way baby. I really struggle going in normal class. (Did do four hours to Weymouth last year directly after a trip down from Edinburgh, wow, that was hard going. And coffee cost a small fortune).
Just makes such a difference.

I’m sure I’d like first class in a plane too, it’s just the up in the air that would freak me out…

Anyway, I’m filling in my time now before the ‘rush’ to find platform whatever (still too early to tell) and grab my seat M54… PLEASE let it be a single seat .. I don’t want to share my space.

Still, not stressing. Straight line all the way down.  I am a flat pond of serenity. (They also had gluten free crisps, so I’m a little bit chuffed about that too!!)

London, I’m coming to get you. There will be plenty of swearing. 😜

I admit it. I’m not super woman.

It’s been a hell of a time since going back to work. Not only have I been catching up on the backlog of things that had mounted up over the three months I was out of the office but my hubby and I have been buying the house we currently rent.

I’m supposed to be doing a phased return to work which has meant I’ve been able to take time out of the office, but I’ve been going to meetings about the house. So in reality I’ve actually been doing more than a normal work week. Ironic. Yeah.

I get so full of responsibility in my head that I can’t see the wood for the trees.
I’m in a position where there literally is no one who can cover my work, which is one of the main reasons I got a laptop delivered whilst I was off so I could do the revenue recognition work and make sure some dude in Australia didn’t lose out in his commission (we dont get commission, but that’s by the by..).. anyway, I finally finished the backlog work yesterday and went for what turned out to be a two hour meeting about life insurance.  By the time I got home I was pooped.

I was in agony with my back so took some handy left over from surgery pain killers and toddled off to bed.

Woke up late and basically my body told me in no uncertain terms I was not leaving the house today. I could hardly even stand. Hot sweats and a blood pumping head any time I moved.

Ok. A bit severe but I get the message.

I have taken the day off. I spent the morning asleep.

I admit it. I am not super woman. There is no reason to feel bad about it. I’m not as strong as I thought I was. (Having never had half a lung out, returning to work and trying to buy a house simultaneously, so fair doos)

This is all good.

I am going to spend this whole weekend catching up on sleep and relaxation.

It’s a shame as I’m letting some friends down in social terms. But I’m so lucky they are good friends and get it.

Time for a coffee and then perhaps, another snooze.

The sleep monster.

I am furious.  I have waited 6 hours to watch the highlights of the formula 1 in China.

I saw the starting blurb and the warm up Lap. I then wake up with a couple searching for a property outside of London. Argh.

This is not the first time the sleep monster has got me.

As part of my fibromyalgia it is a constant companion and I am always very close to having a snooze.

I suppose with everything I have been going through this year, a nap at an unfortunate time is inevitable.

Sleeping through F1 is just a bitch.

Sometimes that’s just what happens and at least these days it’s recorded and I can see it again.

Damn you sleep monster. Damn you.

A long, long week!

I am so very, very tired. It has been such a huge mountain to climb this week and I have got over it. (Hurgh, Innit)

Good Lord though, its been haaaaard.

Even having covered off the essentials while I was out of action at work, there has been so much more to do.


I’ve reduced the backlog, done high powered conference calls, organised the crap out of the place and succeeded in getting to a weekend.

I’m actually quite chuffed and want to blow my own trumpet for a mo.

This week:
*impromptu bbq for difficult guests – check
*dyed my hair – check
*return to work – check
*small wig out at work but got through and all sorted – check
*next stage of buying the house sorted – check
*got diagnostic x-rays of spine and further action plan in place – check
*lost nearly a kilo on the new eating plan (which is quite a bitch of restrictions, but it’s really working as intended..weight loss is an added bonus) – check

Ah, heck. I’m fabulous. Tired, but fabulous.

Just so you know, my weekend plans are thus:
Get up, take tablets, go back to bed.
Wake up about lunch time, eat, tablets, sofa, rubbish tv.
Formula 1.
Paint some stuff.
Rubbish tv.
Sunday, repeat.

This is the weekend of an awesome person.

Hope yours is as good. 😎

One born every minute.

A very long time ago, just before the wedding, I got told just as I was about to go into life saving surgery, that due to the nature of the surgery I wouldn’t be able to safely carry or deliver a baby.
At the time I was busy getting over the shock of the op and prepping for the wedding that it was just another bit of news that I took in.

I have been waiting for a reaction since that day.  It’s the kind of thing that as a woman you know you should have a reaction.

Surely we are here with our functional uterus to provide a next generation etc etc and society does ‘expect’ that a mid..sorry, late 30’s woman to have a child or have plans of having children.

I have tried to donate my eggs too, as I know there are ladies out there who will go through hell and high water to get a child.
I’m sad to say that I was too heavy for that procedure, even though I had hundreds of healthy, plump eggs, ready for harvest.  That was sad (I’d had to go through quite a painful scan before they realised I was overweight…that was odd).  It’s kind of waste a of resources.

I’ve also had the best gesture in the world from my sister who has offerred to bake a genetic baby for us (donated stuff from me and hubby, she does the hard work). I can’t honestly tell you how awesome that offer is. I mean she hates pregnancy and labour scares the God damn Willies out of her, but she’d do that for me. That means SO much.  But even with that option, not feeling the need to jump on it.

Everyone (‘everyone’.. you know, its not literally every single person I know, but seems it) is popping out bubbas or second bubbas.

Even this is not provoking a reaction.

I truly believe I’m ok with it all.

Then. I watch that damn programme.

Most of the time I watch with a proper squished up face of horror, thinking ‘Thank God I never have to go through that’. I invest with the parents/grandparents/ nurses etc and enjoy the storyline and cringe at the actual birth…
Then they do that shot of the baby all cleaned up and laying on mum and it just does a face. It makes my ovaries pop. I then know I’m never going to experience anything like that. I do have a little moment. Maybe a twinge of regret? I don’t know.

Now some people would say ‘why the hell do you do this you yourself???’
And you know, I don’t know.

It’s a joy to actually share it with people I don’t know. I can only imagine what it is like in reality… I was my sister’s birthing partner for her number one, so I ‘know’ what it’s like to be there, but not to physically go through it all.

I’m still not upset.

I am an aunty to a great bunch. It’s an important job. I take it seriously.  I love those kids.

So. What is wrong with me? Is anything wrong with me? Is it just I am aware of society expectations and pressures??

I do get a thing from other mums when you mention you have no kids and won’t be having kids. A small touch on the arm and a look.  I know I will never be in the club.

It’s ok. I appreciate that it can be seen as sad and ‘not fulfilling’ my potential.

However.  HOWEVER!!

I am ok. My husband and I are ok. Thank you for your care, but really, I am ok.

I am a woman. I kick arse like a woman. I dont need a smaller version of me to validate my worth.

I will continue to watch the programme and have those little moments. And it will continue to be ok.

I dont need to feel bad that I don’t feel bad.

Anyway, once I’ve finally bought the house, hubby says I can get a rat. This has caused some mad and deep conversations about responsibility for another life.

There you go… Life is a bloody funny thing!!  I have just forgiven myself for not conforming to yet another society expectation.  (Anyone who knows me knows my lack of conforming..I’m guessing this is hardly news to any of them!)

Huzzah for me. Innit.

(This has come out of no where, just needed to write it down, its great this blogging thing.)