My annoying cousin and equally annoying partner are getting married at the end of October. Even if this news hadn’t been announced in the local press (complete with excruciatingly embarrassing photographs that any normal person would file under ‘photos to destroy for fear of blackmail’) then we would still have known as it’s all they ever speak about. I know it’s a big occasion but surely there are other topics of conversation to be had. I also wonder what will happen when the wedding is over and they realise that all they’ve been talking about for the last 6 months is the wedding and now it’s over they no longer have anything to speak of!
Anyway - my invitation arrived this morning at my mum and dad’s house. Forgetting the fact that I haven’t lived with my parents for nearly 8 years and that they know exactly where I live, I’ve suffered an even worse fate - I’ve not been plus one’ed.
To say I’m mad would be like saying the grand canyon is just a little hole.
I know that I’m not in a relationship in the strictest sense of the word but I’m dating a nice guy who could have come with me. It’s like they have decided that since my Facebook status says single I have to suffer through the worst event where you can be single. I know people say that weddings are one of the best places to pick up people (not that I want to) but I’ve never in my life been to a wedding where most people are paired off at the start and those that aren’t are likely too shy or too foo to go and try to find out who the singletons actually are. To make matters worse my other cousin who changes boyfriends nearly as often as she changes her sheets has a plus one. She’ll probably have a competition to choose who she’s going to take along.
If I sound bitter – I am. Perhaps I’ll take Mike anyway just to see what happens. Or more likely than not I’ll just not bother going. Sour grapes it may be but I’m resolved to do what makes me happy.
Other things that have me irked at the moment are…
Work. Not only do I have a particularly annoying colleague who has no sense of morals in either her behaviour or the stories she tells, but I’m just not feeling satisfied there anymore. It’s a great little shop but I need something more.
Mike. It’s not that I’m mad at him or anything he’s done but I’m wondering whether ‘good’ is good enough. He’s adorably sweet and does things like sending my flowers at work (yes, I work in a flower shop!) and giving me chocolates but I’m beginning to have doubts. Perhaps I just need to take some time to chill with everything that’s going on lately and then I’ll get some perspective!
Hopefully my next instalment will have a happier, calmer theme to it!
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Children, Chocolates and a Chicken
I looked after my niece, Chloe, today and boy is that an experience. She’s 4 years old and has the same sort of imagination as me. Which is fine if you are the one with the imagination but also very hard for anybody else to understand what on earth is going on. We played doctors and nurses with all her teddies and then with me and then with her. Fudge even had to suffer the ignominy of having a broken tail, leg and ear. I suffered from, among other things, a broken ankle from tripping over a tree, a broken leg from being bitten by a squirrel and death by cherries.
Chloe is my sister, Kara, and her husband, Richard’s first and currently only child. Ricky was working and Kara had already planned a meeting with her friend for lunch when Ricky got called in (he’s a doctor) so it was off to Auntie Daisy’s for the afternoon for Chloe. She’s a sweet child but even just a couple of hours with her and I realise that I’m not ready for children. My mum says that no-one’s ever really ready for children but I’m just not sure I have the energy to have one 24/7. She was exhausting and later on I have every intention of having a lovely bubble bath then going to my bed as early as I can bear.
Other things that have happened this week is that Mike and I went out again. This time he took me bowling which is the perfect venue for a perfectly typical date. I’m losing my affliction of getting tongue tied around him but bowling still gave me the opportunity to ogle him and think of witty things to say while he’s taking his shot. All that seemed unnecessary when he kissed me after I got a strike. I don’t mean to come across as a sap but I just about melted. It just goes to show that once a geek, always a geek. And if you pair that geek with a jock then can you really blame her for getting all gooey eyed when he kisses the daylights of her? After the bowling we went for a walk along the beach then partook of a little more kissing in his car before he dropped me off which is definitely regressing to high school but what the hey! Just before he left he gave me a box of chocolates which is adorably cute. I need a moment just to sigh at his loveliness.
The chicken in the title comes from the fact that I haven’t been to Mrs J’s house at all this week. I phoned her and the volunteer centre to let them know and told them I was really busy with work and helping out my mum with the dogs but I’m not, to be honest. I just don’t particularly want to see Nick for so many reasons that I don’t want to list. Another sigh, this one for a completely different reason.
Chloe is my sister, Kara, and her husband, Richard’s first and currently only child. Ricky was working and Kara had already planned a meeting with her friend for lunch when Ricky got called in (he’s a doctor) so it was off to Auntie Daisy’s for the afternoon for Chloe. She’s a sweet child but even just a couple of hours with her and I realise that I’m not ready for children. My mum says that no-one’s ever really ready for children but I’m just not sure I have the energy to have one 24/7. She was exhausting and later on I have every intention of having a lovely bubble bath then going to my bed as early as I can bear.
Other things that have happened this week is that Mike and I went out again. This time he took me bowling which is the perfect venue for a perfectly typical date. I’m losing my affliction of getting tongue tied around him but bowling still gave me the opportunity to ogle him and think of witty things to say while he’s taking his shot. All that seemed unnecessary when he kissed me after I got a strike. I don’t mean to come across as a sap but I just about melted. It just goes to show that once a geek, always a geek. And if you pair that geek with a jock then can you really blame her for getting all gooey eyed when he kisses the daylights of her? After the bowling we went for a walk along the beach then partook of a little more kissing in his car before he dropped me off which is definitely regressing to high school but what the hey! Just before he left he gave me a box of chocolates which is adorably cute. I need a moment just to sigh at his loveliness.
The chicken in the title comes from the fact that I haven’t been to Mrs J’s house at all this week. I phoned her and the volunteer centre to let them know and told them I was really busy with work and helping out my mum with the dogs but I’m not, to be honest. I just don’t particularly want to see Nick for so many reasons that I don’t want to list. Another sigh, this one for a completely different reason.
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Freezer Boy: Round 3
I have taken to running from my house to my car these days in order to avoid Greg. He asked me out the other day and I had to let him down which is never nice. I hate saying no but I just couldn’t let him think that I might be interested in him when I’m clearly not. He’s nice enough if just a little too eager/creepy. The next day I saw him going into his house with a girl so hopefully he’s found someone to take his mind off his love for me. (He told me he loved me when he asked me out - *shudders*.
Anyway – it was the usual at Mrs J’s this week. She asked me to make her some bread and we sat and had jam pieces with freshly baked brown bread. Divine. She has a new boyfriend. Alfred is 85 and lives a couple of doors down from her. They have regular garden “dates” where they sit in their gardens or watch the telly together. Midsummer Murders if I remember rightly. I’m beginning to worry that she has a more active romantic life than I do since I haven’t heard from Mike in over a week since the flowers. Sigh.
So FB came round again while I was there. As soon as I saw him drive up in his sporty little GT, I told Mrs J that I had to go. She asked me why and I told her that part of my volunteering was to make sure she had company and there was no point in being here when her family were here. I don’t think she believed me because she gave me a strange look and told me that Nick was just here to pick up something for his mum, Mrs J’s daughter. I know, because Mrs J has told me that her family are useless. She had one daughter that used to come in and help out with shopping etc but she's been really busy with work lately and hasn’t been able to help out as much. That was when they contacted the Age Concern who looked for volunteers to help out with her day to day stuff. Much better than going into a home, says Mrs J. Not that I can imagine someone with her joy for life being cooped up in a home but I know that sadly it’s sometimes the only option for people.
Anyway – I gathered up Fudge (who had been happily sitting on Mrs J’s knee!), gave my hasty goodbyes and hot footed it out the front door. Knowing Nick (curse him for having a name that I really like. I bet it stands for Nicholas or something that makes me want to swoon!) he would come gallivanting in the back door like he owned the place. Probably complaining about the fact the oven had been on for the bread or some such nonsense. I made it out to my beat up little mini (the old kind – love her!), put Fudge in the passenger seat and was coming back to my door when out the front door comes Nick in his fancy, probably designer, suit. It was the fact that he’d caught me running away that made me so angry. That and the fact that he looked so gorgeous, was wearing a suit and has a name that sounds like the name you would give a bad boy in a Mills and Boon novel. That fact pushed the fact that I really should be apologising to him after the cinema incident. Anyway – he came over to me and handed me the bag of baking stuff that I’d brought round to make bread with. It’s hard to be annoyed with someone who’s doing a good deed but it’s never easy for me to be nice to someone who pushes my buttons like this guy does. I took it and our hands touched and I swear to God I got those tingles up and down my arm that you only read about in those self same Mills and Boon books. It gave me a jolt and I could only stand there and stare at him. And his mouth, if I’m completely honest. He was doing the same but with a small, smug smile on his lips. Luckily it brought me back to reality and I managed to leave Mrs J’s drive with my dignity in tact and a cloud of dust covering the drive of the cute little house. Oh and her grandson in his nice suit. Oops.
Anyway – it was the usual at Mrs J’s this week. She asked me to make her some bread and we sat and had jam pieces with freshly baked brown bread. Divine. She has a new boyfriend. Alfred is 85 and lives a couple of doors down from her. They have regular garden “dates” where they sit in their gardens or watch the telly together. Midsummer Murders if I remember rightly. I’m beginning to worry that she has a more active romantic life than I do since I haven’t heard from Mike in over a week since the flowers. Sigh.
So FB came round again while I was there. As soon as I saw him drive up in his sporty little GT, I told Mrs J that I had to go. She asked me why and I told her that part of my volunteering was to make sure she had company and there was no point in being here when her family were here. I don’t think she believed me because she gave me a strange look and told me that Nick was just here to pick up something for his mum, Mrs J’s daughter. I know, because Mrs J has told me that her family are useless. She had one daughter that used to come in and help out with shopping etc but she's been really busy with work lately and hasn’t been able to help out as much. That was when they contacted the Age Concern who looked for volunteers to help out with her day to day stuff. Much better than going into a home, says Mrs J. Not that I can imagine someone with her joy for life being cooped up in a home but I know that sadly it’s sometimes the only option for people.
Anyway – I gathered up Fudge (who had been happily sitting on Mrs J’s knee!), gave my hasty goodbyes and hot footed it out the front door. Knowing Nick (curse him for having a name that I really like. I bet it stands for Nicholas or something that makes me want to swoon!) he would come gallivanting in the back door like he owned the place. Probably complaining about the fact the oven had been on for the bread or some such nonsense. I made it out to my beat up little mini (the old kind – love her!), put Fudge in the passenger seat and was coming back to my door when out the front door comes Nick in his fancy, probably designer, suit. It was the fact that he’d caught me running away that made me so angry. That and the fact that he looked so gorgeous, was wearing a suit and has a name that sounds like the name you would give a bad boy in a Mills and Boon novel. That fact pushed the fact that I really should be apologising to him after the cinema incident. Anyway – he came over to me and handed me the bag of baking stuff that I’d brought round to make bread with. It’s hard to be annoyed with someone who’s doing a good deed but it’s never easy for me to be nice to someone who pushes my buttons like this guy does. I took it and our hands touched and I swear to God I got those tingles up and down my arm that you only read about in those self same Mills and Boon books. It gave me a jolt and I could only stand there and stare at him. And his mouth, if I’m completely honest. He was doing the same but with a small, smug smile on his lips. Luckily it brought me back to reality and I managed to leave Mrs J’s drive with my dignity in tact and a cloud of dust covering the drive of the cute little house. Oh and her grandson in his nice suit. Oops.
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Date Night
Well, the date went off but it wasn’t without its hitches. The first hitch was that Mike text me to ask if we could postpone the date as he had an emergency to deal with. This was a couple of hours before we were supposed to meet but not before I had started to prepare for it! Now, I don’t know if it’s a ‘me’ thing, or a general ‘girl’ thing but in my mind he might as well have told me that he’d decided he didn’t fancy me afterall and that I was delusional for thinking that he would ever really go on a date with me! Ridiculous but true. So imagine my horror/delight when he then called the next day to apologise. His little brother had fallen out a tree and broken his arm and since Mike was the only one around, he was drafted in for hospital detail.
All that ice cream and self pity for nothing!
It actually worked out for the best (not that I’m glad Mike’s brother fell out a tree, you understand – he’s fine btw) but it gave me more time to decide on the best outfit to make it look like I hadn’t tried anything fancy as well as time to work off the tub of ice cream I’d scoffed! Oops.
So off we went to the pictures. We went to see some action flick that I can’t even remember the name of but at least it wasn’t a horror flick as I have been known to watch films with my eyes closed and scratch my ears so that I can neither see or hear anything remotely scary. Yes, I really am that much of a wimp!
In a gentlemanly gesture, Mike offered to get the sweets and popcorn (I couldn’t say no in case he somehow realised all the ice-cream munching that had gone on!) while I went to the ladies. With queues being so long I had time to wander around where only ticketed people can go to wait for Mike when suddenly I realised someone was talking to me. I turned around and who should be standing there but Freezer Boy himself. Mrs J’s grandson. The Pillock with a capital P.
I’m not entirely sure how the conversation started but I’m sure it was something along the lines of an accusation that I was here on my own on a Friday night. Not that there’s anything wrong with going to the pictures, or anywhere, on your own but I just didn’t like the way he said it with his little condescending smile. I told him, with no little bit of condescension of my own, that no, I was here on a date. He didn’t believe me and made no bones about telling me of this fact.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I am not one to be nasty to anyone except for in my head – I just don’t like confrontations. Probably because I suck at them but that’s not the point. I looked around desperately to see if Mike was about to come to my rescue but he was still holed up in front of the nacho counter so I was left alone with Freezer Boy as he said something else to me – something I clearly wasn’t listening to. I stared at him until I finally realised whatever he’d been saying to me was now finished and he was waiting for an answer/comment/punch.
Instead I said: I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Like I was dumping him or something. Total mortification. And I’m unfortunately not the sort of girl that does embarrassment with any sort of grace or aplomb. With my cheeks ready to grill meat and my eyes unable to meet his I still noticed that he was grinning at me. That man is so annoying.
He asks me why and I blurt out because he’s a pain in the keister and I just don’t want to deal with him anymore as he’s making my life ANNOYING! Woops for finally being able to be nasty to someone – even if they did deserve it. Looking back, he looked a little, not upset, but perhaps a little taken aback by my nastiness and I suddenly remember another reason I don’t like confrontations or being nasty to people. The guilt.
Mike chose that moment to come back from getting his nachos (and popcorn, sweets and a slush puppy – my God, the man’s a human hoover) and slung his arm around my shoulders. Now I normally would enjoy a good ol’ display of male testosterone and territorial-ness but this was obviously only one step away from coming over and peeing a large circle around me. Mike clearly wanted to show Freezer Boy who I was with but as he walked away I couldn’t help but feel guilty and mean. Especially since when we got into the actual theatre I realised that FB was obviously there on his own.
New note to self. Don’t assume people are being rude to you just because you don’t like them. Sigh.
All that ice cream and self pity for nothing!
It actually worked out for the best (not that I’m glad Mike’s brother fell out a tree, you understand – he’s fine btw) but it gave me more time to decide on the best outfit to make it look like I hadn’t tried anything fancy as well as time to work off the tub of ice cream I’d scoffed! Oops.
So off we went to the pictures. We went to see some action flick that I can’t even remember the name of but at least it wasn’t a horror flick as I have been known to watch films with my eyes closed and scratch my ears so that I can neither see or hear anything remotely scary. Yes, I really am that much of a wimp!
In a gentlemanly gesture, Mike offered to get the sweets and popcorn (I couldn’t say no in case he somehow realised all the ice-cream munching that had gone on!) while I went to the ladies. With queues being so long I had time to wander around where only ticketed people can go to wait for Mike when suddenly I realised someone was talking to me. I turned around and who should be standing there but Freezer Boy himself. Mrs J’s grandson. The Pillock with a capital P.
I’m not entirely sure how the conversation started but I’m sure it was something along the lines of an accusation that I was here on my own on a Friday night. Not that there’s anything wrong with going to the pictures, or anywhere, on your own but I just didn’t like the way he said it with his little condescending smile. I told him, with no little bit of condescension of my own, that no, I was here on a date. He didn’t believe me and made no bones about telling me of this fact.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I am not one to be nasty to anyone except for in my head – I just don’t like confrontations. Probably because I suck at them but that’s not the point. I looked around desperately to see if Mike was about to come to my rescue but he was still holed up in front of the nacho counter so I was left alone with Freezer Boy as he said something else to me – something I clearly wasn’t listening to. I stared at him until I finally realised whatever he’d been saying to me was now finished and he was waiting for an answer/comment/punch.
Instead I said: I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Like I was dumping him or something. Total mortification. And I’m unfortunately not the sort of girl that does embarrassment with any sort of grace or aplomb. With my cheeks ready to grill meat and my eyes unable to meet his I still noticed that he was grinning at me. That man is so annoying.
He asks me why and I blurt out because he’s a pain in the keister and I just don’t want to deal with him anymore as he’s making my life ANNOYING! Woops for finally being able to be nasty to someone – even if they did deserve it. Looking back, he looked a little, not upset, but perhaps a little taken aback by my nastiness and I suddenly remember another reason I don’t like confrontations or being nasty to people. The guilt.
Mike chose that moment to come back from getting his nachos (and popcorn, sweets and a slush puppy – my God, the man’s a human hoover) and slung his arm around my shoulders. Now I normally would enjoy a good ol’ display of male testosterone and territorial-ness but this was obviously only one step away from coming over and peeing a large circle around me. Mike clearly wanted to show Freezer Boy who I was with but as he walked away I couldn’t help but feel guilty and mean. Especially since when we got into the actual theatre I realised that FB was obviously there on his own.
New note to self. Don’t assume people are being rude to you just because you don’t like them. Sigh.
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Flowers and Butterflies
Mrs J has been on holiday this week and it’s been a little weird to not be heading round to her house. I did pop down on Wednesday to water her plants and make sure that the place was all fine but it seemed quite cold and devoid of life without Mrs J there so I didn’t hang around for long.
Stalker Greg is back to his usual tricks. I was coming home from work the other night and I happened to have a bunch of flowers. An obvious perk of the job is that I get a discount on flowers and there sometimes happens to be mistakes made on bouquets or people don’t come in to pick up their flowers despite having ordered them. So this is how I happened to have the most beautiful display of roses as I trudged back home.
I don’t know why I’m surprised that Greg managed to pop out of his house at exactly the moment I was passing by. If he used his powers for good instead of evil, he could be quite the force to be reckoned with. As it stands, he’s just a right royal pain in my arse. Anyway, out he popped and started a conversation that he hoped would lead to me telling him where the flowers had come from without him actually asking me who had given them to me. In an unmeant twist of fate, I managed to never tell Greg where I worked which has turned out to be a blessing now that he fancies himself half in love with me. The conversation didn’t go as he planned and despite my inability to be nasty to people – I felt quite smug that I had been quite closed off with him. Hopefully that will be the end of him for a while.
And I have a date. My phone rang the other night and despite answering with good English, as soon as the person on the other end spoke, I lost the ability to string a sentence together. It was Mike (swoonable rugby man!) who got my number from Sally and decided to give me a ring. We chatted for a little while before he asked me to go to the pictures with him. Thank God he didn’t suggest somewhere where I’ll be forced to have proper conversation because it would appear that I only have to imagine his handsome face to get tongue tied! So that’s tomorrow night and I’m already going crazy trying to think of what I should wear.
Luckily, these flittering butterflies in my tummy are such a good feeling. It’s nice to feel so excited about something again!
Stalker Greg is back to his usual tricks. I was coming home from work the other night and I happened to have a bunch of flowers. An obvious perk of the job is that I get a discount on flowers and there sometimes happens to be mistakes made on bouquets or people don’t come in to pick up their flowers despite having ordered them. So this is how I happened to have the most beautiful display of roses as I trudged back home.
I don’t know why I’m surprised that Greg managed to pop out of his house at exactly the moment I was passing by. If he used his powers for good instead of evil, he could be quite the force to be reckoned with. As it stands, he’s just a right royal pain in my arse. Anyway, out he popped and started a conversation that he hoped would lead to me telling him where the flowers had come from without him actually asking me who had given them to me. In an unmeant twist of fate, I managed to never tell Greg where I worked which has turned out to be a blessing now that he fancies himself half in love with me. The conversation didn’t go as he planned and despite my inability to be nasty to people – I felt quite smug that I had been quite closed off with him. Hopefully that will be the end of him for a while.
And I have a date. My phone rang the other night and despite answering with good English, as soon as the person on the other end spoke, I lost the ability to string a sentence together. It was Mike (swoonable rugby man!) who got my number from Sally and decided to give me a ring. We chatted for a little while before he asked me to go to the pictures with him. Thank God he didn’t suggest somewhere where I’ll be forced to have proper conversation because it would appear that I only have to imagine his handsome face to get tongue tied! So that’s tomorrow night and I’m already going crazy trying to think of what I should wear.
Luckily, these flittering butterflies in my tummy are such a good feeling. It’s nice to feel so excited about something again!
Sunday, 17 July 2011
I met a guy...
Finally, finally, finally! I’m so excited to have finally met a decent, kind and lovely guy. And he’s good looking too which is not a pre-requisite but definitely a bonus!
We also had a little bit of a cute meet which always makes me think it would be lovely to tell the story of how we first met to friends at our engagement party or to family at our wedding. Not that I’m being pathetically girly and fantasising of this kind of thing already! *Blushes*
So, me and my friend had gone to the local rugby club where her boyfriend plays stand off for our town team. I do quite enjoy rugby and usually head to internationals but you would be a traitor to your female genes if you didn’t also take a delight in rugged, manly men getting down and dirty in little shorts!
Anyway, Sally and I had picked up a couple of pear ciders and settled down on the grass to have a natter, a drink and to watch the coming and goings on the pitch. After our first cider I volunteered to get another and headed into the clubhouse, through the throngs of people on the side of the pitch and milling about outside the buildings to the bar. I bought our second round, and two burgers to slow the impact of the alcohol (especially on a light weight such as me!) and headed back outside. It was half time and so a little busier than it was before and I was balancing two bottles and two burgers in my hands when I managed to step on a small child. Immediately apologetic, I whirled around to apologise, caught my foot on the side of the path, slipped on the slightly damp grass and started to tumble forward into a row of people.
Now a normal person might have dropped the cider and burgers in order to keep herself upright but I was brought up to hate to waste food so I kept a tight hold of my purchases and went down like a lead balloon, caring not a whit for the domino effect I had on the people on the grass. I managed to contort myself so that I wouldn’t fall onto my face and instead landed on my side, quickly rolling onto my back, panting with the sheer embarrassment and, if I’m honest, a little joy at having kept everything intact with nary a spill! However, the worst was to come when there was a shout and I felt something touch my feet which were still sprawled on the path. The next thing I knew, 15 stone (I can only imagine) of lean, slightly sweaty, dirty (but still very attractive) male fell right on top of me, squishing the burgers to my chest and knocking both ciders out of my hands, one landing upended on the grass beside my head and the other spilling all over the front of my top. I was both not amused and strangely titillated by the stranger who was giving me the closest thing I’ve had to sex in months!
Things happened quite quickly after that and people rushed to help up the player. Oh, and as an afterthought, me! He was heralded away, walking with a noticeable limp as I rushed, head down, back to Sal with the pathetic excuse that the bar queue was too long to wait. She questioned me about the horrible stains of questionable meat, tomato sauce and cider covering my top but I couldn’t think up a reasonable excuse so kept quiet. The next thing I know, the second half started and an announcement on the tannoy says that such and such a player is being substituted due to an ankle injury sustained during a half time rush to the toilet and the legs of a rather drunk girl. I was ridiculously affronted by this and was about to show my annoyance when I realised he was the team’s star player and I had just become persona non gratis should anyone realise it was me who had done the damage.
To cut a long story short, at the end of the match, when Sal and I had made our way over to congratulate with Sal’s boyfriend, who should appear but him - the guy I had taken out of the game. Apparently, it’s very ‘happy families’ at the rugby clubs and Sal’s boyfriend, Steve and the guy (who turned out to be called Mike) were not only team mates but brothers to boot. I did try to enjoy the after game barbeque but as it was interspersed with supposed good natured ribbing about my being a mole from the other team, I possibly didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have if I had been a normal person rather than ‘that girl’ but in the end it did turn out rather nice.
Because just as we were about to leave, Mike came up to me. I was trying to blend into invisibility by the coats but he seemed to spot me anyway and came over. Before he had a chance to say anything I blurted out an apology worthy of a geeky schoolgirl who has just been spoken to by the cool guy in school. He grinned at me (he has such a cute smile!) and said that it wasn’t a problem – a minor sprain. I then told him that I hadn’t meant to knock him over. His reply was the stuff of romantic fantasies. He said to me that it wasn’t a problem because he would have fallen for me anyway. Sal and Steve chose that moment to appear to take me home. I’m pretty sure that Mike then asked me if I would be at the next game and I hopefully answered a little more coherently that my scrambled thoughts were dictating. He then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and proceeded to lean on the doorjamb of the club as he watched us make our way to the car.
I now have that happy glow of infatuation and hopefully this will actually go somewhere good. Nice guys do exist! Yay!
We also had a little bit of a cute meet which always makes me think it would be lovely to tell the story of how we first met to friends at our engagement party or to family at our wedding. Not that I’m being pathetically girly and fantasising of this kind of thing already! *Blushes*
So, me and my friend had gone to the local rugby club where her boyfriend plays stand off for our town team. I do quite enjoy rugby and usually head to internationals but you would be a traitor to your female genes if you didn’t also take a delight in rugged, manly men getting down and dirty in little shorts!
Anyway, Sally and I had picked up a couple of pear ciders and settled down on the grass to have a natter, a drink and to watch the coming and goings on the pitch. After our first cider I volunteered to get another and headed into the clubhouse, through the throngs of people on the side of the pitch and milling about outside the buildings to the bar. I bought our second round, and two burgers to slow the impact of the alcohol (especially on a light weight such as me!) and headed back outside. It was half time and so a little busier than it was before and I was balancing two bottles and two burgers in my hands when I managed to step on a small child. Immediately apologetic, I whirled around to apologise, caught my foot on the side of the path, slipped on the slightly damp grass and started to tumble forward into a row of people.
Now a normal person might have dropped the cider and burgers in order to keep herself upright but I was brought up to hate to waste food so I kept a tight hold of my purchases and went down like a lead balloon, caring not a whit for the domino effect I had on the people on the grass. I managed to contort myself so that I wouldn’t fall onto my face and instead landed on my side, quickly rolling onto my back, panting with the sheer embarrassment and, if I’m honest, a little joy at having kept everything intact with nary a spill! However, the worst was to come when there was a shout and I felt something touch my feet which were still sprawled on the path. The next thing I knew, 15 stone (I can only imagine) of lean, slightly sweaty, dirty (but still very attractive) male fell right on top of me, squishing the burgers to my chest and knocking both ciders out of my hands, one landing upended on the grass beside my head and the other spilling all over the front of my top. I was both not amused and strangely titillated by the stranger who was giving me the closest thing I’ve had to sex in months!
Things happened quite quickly after that and people rushed to help up the player. Oh, and as an afterthought, me! He was heralded away, walking with a noticeable limp as I rushed, head down, back to Sal with the pathetic excuse that the bar queue was too long to wait. She questioned me about the horrible stains of questionable meat, tomato sauce and cider covering my top but I couldn’t think up a reasonable excuse so kept quiet. The next thing I know, the second half started and an announcement on the tannoy says that such and such a player is being substituted due to an ankle injury sustained during a half time rush to the toilet and the legs of a rather drunk girl. I was ridiculously affronted by this and was about to show my annoyance when I realised he was the team’s star player and I had just become persona non gratis should anyone realise it was me who had done the damage.
To cut a long story short, at the end of the match, when Sal and I had made our way over to congratulate with Sal’s boyfriend, who should appear but him - the guy I had taken out of the game. Apparently, it’s very ‘happy families’ at the rugby clubs and Sal’s boyfriend, Steve and the guy (who turned out to be called Mike) were not only team mates but brothers to boot. I did try to enjoy the after game barbeque but as it was interspersed with supposed good natured ribbing about my being a mole from the other team, I possibly didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have if I had been a normal person rather than ‘that girl’ but in the end it did turn out rather nice.
Because just as we were about to leave, Mike came up to me. I was trying to blend into invisibility by the coats but he seemed to spot me anyway and came over. Before he had a chance to say anything I blurted out an apology worthy of a geeky schoolgirl who has just been spoken to by the cool guy in school. He grinned at me (he has such a cute smile!) and said that it wasn’t a problem – a minor sprain. I then told him that I hadn’t meant to knock him over. His reply was the stuff of romantic fantasies. He said to me that it wasn’t a problem because he would have fallen for me anyway. Sal and Steve chose that moment to appear to take me home. I’m pretty sure that Mike then asked me if I would be at the next game and I hopefully answered a little more coherently that my scrambled thoughts were dictating. He then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and proceeded to lean on the doorjamb of the club as he watched us make our way to the car.
I now have that happy glow of infatuation and hopefully this will actually go somewhere good. Nice guys do exist! Yay!
Thursday, 7 July 2011
The woes of Facebook
Up until this point in my life I have been able to conduct both my everyday life and my social life without the use of a social networking site. That’s not to say that I’m against the whole shebang but I just haven’t seen the need. My main reason for staying away is that I don’t have that many friends! I’m not in touch with anyone from my school days (thank the lord!) and I only have a small group of close friends and a slightly larger group of occasional friends who are likely not online anyway! So, it’s more a fear of being a loser with only about 15 ‘friends’ that makes me stay away as I’m not the kind of person to add people as friends that I don’t even know or only met once. Until recently!
Now I am a fully fledged member of Facebook and I have to admit it was quite fun for a while. I was able to keep up to date with the occasional friends without the horror of a silent phone call punctuated by bursts of inane pleasantries! There’s also the games which is a strange addiction of mine and possibly one of the reasons that I can’t seem to drag myself out and about to try and find Mr Right! So all was going well until I got a friend request from a girl I worked briefly with about 4 years ago. The briefness lasted for about 4 months which in the grand scheme of things is a rather short amount of time. We weren’t close friends especially since I was her line manager. But I still thought nothing of adding her as a friend. I did know her, I’d met her more than once and what harm could it do? Well…
…she’s a bloomin’ psycho! She started leaving messages on my wall thingy saying that we should meet up and ‘have tea’. That’s fine but I’m not that fancy, she certainly wasn’t that fancy and I never had the urge to do fancy stuff like that with her. I assumed I was being overly critical and gave her a non-specific, placating response. Alas she was not to be bested and so began her quest to meet with me at all costs. Messages came pouring in about how we should meet up and eat cake together, shed a few tears about the past and how she could really do with a huge hug with me. Odd and slightly creepy seeing as she was just someone I worked with and not a friend that I had inadvertently lost contact with. It would be a little easier to deal with if I could pass it off as some sort of weird crush but the girl is engaged to be married and, well, a girl! So, rather than deal with the weirdness that was beginning to happen at least two times per day, I blocked her as a friend from Facebook. Rub hands together – all sorted.
Not so much.
She started on my friends. When you block someone on Facebook they completely disappear so she could find me on no searches and any posts that I put on other people’s walls are hidden to her so you’d think that she would get the hint. Nope – the messages started going to my other friends. Where’s Daisy? Is she okay? Why doesn’t she want to be my friend? Have I done something to upset her? Apart from getting a life, if the girl was any kind of friend to me she would have known that this kind of thing is the surest thing to raise my hackles. I hate when people are too needy and hate it even more when people resort to playground tactics. Yeesh – if it takes that much effort to get me to be your friend am I really worth it? Without being too negative – no I am not!! When she started to quiz my friends about whether I still stayed at the same address and drove the same car as I did 4 years ago (yes and no), that’s when my friends got a little concerned and she was blocked by them as well.
So now I’m a little wary as I not only have to worry about stalker Greg but also about scary Lorna appearing at my door. Luckily Greg has toned down the crazy and the only thing I’ve seen him do of late is stare at me out his window as I get out my car. He always has a look on his face that reminds me of a wounded puppy but I will not be swayed. And I really should find a way to rid myself of whatever I am wearing, doing or acting that makes me the target of crazy stalker types!!
Now I am a fully fledged member of Facebook and I have to admit it was quite fun for a while. I was able to keep up to date with the occasional friends without the horror of a silent phone call punctuated by bursts of inane pleasantries! There’s also the games which is a strange addiction of mine and possibly one of the reasons that I can’t seem to drag myself out and about to try and find Mr Right! So all was going well until I got a friend request from a girl I worked briefly with about 4 years ago. The briefness lasted for about 4 months which in the grand scheme of things is a rather short amount of time. We weren’t close friends especially since I was her line manager. But I still thought nothing of adding her as a friend. I did know her, I’d met her more than once and what harm could it do? Well…
…she’s a bloomin’ psycho! She started leaving messages on my wall thingy saying that we should meet up and ‘have tea’. That’s fine but I’m not that fancy, she certainly wasn’t that fancy and I never had the urge to do fancy stuff like that with her. I assumed I was being overly critical and gave her a non-specific, placating response. Alas she was not to be bested and so began her quest to meet with me at all costs. Messages came pouring in about how we should meet up and eat cake together, shed a few tears about the past and how she could really do with a huge hug with me. Odd and slightly creepy seeing as she was just someone I worked with and not a friend that I had inadvertently lost contact with. It would be a little easier to deal with if I could pass it off as some sort of weird crush but the girl is engaged to be married and, well, a girl! So, rather than deal with the weirdness that was beginning to happen at least two times per day, I blocked her as a friend from Facebook. Rub hands together – all sorted.
Not so much.
She started on my friends. When you block someone on Facebook they completely disappear so she could find me on no searches and any posts that I put on other people’s walls are hidden to her so you’d think that she would get the hint. Nope – the messages started going to my other friends. Where’s Daisy? Is she okay? Why doesn’t she want to be my friend? Have I done something to upset her? Apart from getting a life, if the girl was any kind of friend to me she would have known that this kind of thing is the surest thing to raise my hackles. I hate when people are too needy and hate it even more when people resort to playground tactics. Yeesh – if it takes that much effort to get me to be your friend am I really worth it? Without being too negative – no I am not!! When she started to quiz my friends about whether I still stayed at the same address and drove the same car as I did 4 years ago (yes and no), that’s when my friends got a little concerned and she was blocked by them as well.
So now I’m a little wary as I not only have to worry about stalker Greg but also about scary Lorna appearing at my door. Luckily Greg has toned down the crazy and the only thing I’ve seen him do of late is stare at me out his window as I get out my car. He always has a look on his face that reminds me of a wounded puppy but I will not be swayed. And I really should find a way to rid myself of whatever I am wearing, doing or acting that makes me the target of crazy stalker types!!
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Stalking, walking and a total pillock!
I don’t seem to be too frequent with this whole blogging thing but it’s time that’s getting away with me rather than a lack of something to say! Interesting or not – I always have something to say!!
My first news is that I’ve managed to acquire a stalker. Okay, stalker might be a slight exaggeration but it sort of feels that way sometimes. Last week I was taking Fudge out for a walk when my neighbour (two doors down) stopped and started chatting with me about the roadworks that are supposed to take place on our street next month. There’s really not much to say about it – they’re putting in some speed bumps and we won’t be able to park in parts of the street for about a day, I think. It’s really not exciting but he (Greg) managed to talk to me for what felt like an eternity about this. I had that feeling that you get when you’re trying to tell someone you’ve got to go but you don’t get a chance because they’re talking all the flipping time!
Anyway, ever since that day he seems to appear whenever I go out into the street. The other day I was coming home from Mrs Jenkin’s house and there he was and oh, didn’t he just have to come over and talk to me. After that happening a few time he started coming to my door. The first time he asked if he could borrow a cup of sugar (no – I’m not kidding) but after that it was just to “chat”. It serves me right for being unable to be nasty to someone but I’m getting closer the more he bugs me!
I also got to walk two tiny puppies this week as my mum took on a new client. They were Labradors (or golden retrievers? Hmmm.) and one was golden and one was chocolate. Too sweet. Luckily Fudge didn’t meet them or she would have been very jealous!
Mrs J is still going fine. I took her shopping a couple of weeks ago and she loved it. I say shopping – we went to Asda – but I actually had fun too! She’s wonderful and I’m having so much fun. Don’t tell anyone at work but it’s almost more fun than Lilies!
Today wasn’t one of the better days though. I met her grandson. Only he ain’t that grand.
I turned up at the house today and I’d brought some essentials with me like milk, eggs, ice-cream and whatever. I was putting things in the fridge when someone grabbed my arm and near yanked it out of the socket. The guy demanded to know who I was and what the hell I was doing stealing stuff from his grandmother’s freezer.
I may not be able to be mean to some people but I was so mad. Firstly, what self-respecting burglar would start off by going into the freezer? For that matter, if I had simply wanted to steal food, why on earth would I want stuff that was frozen solid! Oooh, I’m still fizzing just thinking about it! I’m pretty sure that since this is the first man that I’ve come face to face with that’s made me mad since the break-up, he bore the brunt of my anger but he deserved it! The funny thing was (it’s only funny now that I’ve calmed down!) that the thing that got me maddest was that while he was remonstrating with me for being a thief/vagrant/whatever, the freezer was still standing open and for some reason that pissed me off. I think he was a little stunned when, instead of answering his questions I just started into a huge rant about how bad that was for the environment and how it was people like him that were to blame for global warming. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks that I’m a lunatic now! Not that I care!
Mrs J wandered in and saw the pair of us standing there (standing off?) and told him who I was and then told me to close the freezer, didn’t I know that leaving it open was bad for the environment. If I’d been closer to freezer-boy I would have kicked him in the goolies and smacked the smug smile off his face.
The real shame is that he is gorgeous. I mean, knees weak, mouth dry, ruggedly gorgeous and so my type. Unfortunately for me he’s a doofus. Never judge a book by his cover – my mum always says that and as I’ve promised, I’m going to be listening to her from now on!
Onto happier things, work at Lilies (the florists that I work for) has finally slowed down after the craziness of last weekend and I like it so much better now. I prefer it when you can take a little more time with each customer and it also gives you the opportunity to ask what the flowers are for and get a little back story! During the run up to the big occasions (like Valentine’s Day) it’s all the same and it gets boring. Today, a 50-odd year old man came into the shop looking for a bouquet of flowers for his wife because she had a cold and he hoped he could cheer her up. Now that’s romance and made me all happy inside! Since the only romance I’ve gotten of late has been a stalker and a total arse – I think I might sign up to match.com so I can at least meet some interesting men!
My first news is that I’ve managed to acquire a stalker. Okay, stalker might be a slight exaggeration but it sort of feels that way sometimes. Last week I was taking Fudge out for a walk when my neighbour (two doors down) stopped and started chatting with me about the roadworks that are supposed to take place on our street next month. There’s really not much to say about it – they’re putting in some speed bumps and we won’t be able to park in parts of the street for about a day, I think. It’s really not exciting but he (Greg) managed to talk to me for what felt like an eternity about this. I had that feeling that you get when you’re trying to tell someone you’ve got to go but you don’t get a chance because they’re talking all the flipping time!
Anyway, ever since that day he seems to appear whenever I go out into the street. The other day I was coming home from Mrs Jenkin’s house and there he was and oh, didn’t he just have to come over and talk to me. After that happening a few time he started coming to my door. The first time he asked if he could borrow a cup of sugar (no – I’m not kidding) but after that it was just to “chat”. It serves me right for being unable to be nasty to someone but I’m getting closer the more he bugs me!
I also got to walk two tiny puppies this week as my mum took on a new client. They were Labradors (or golden retrievers? Hmmm.) and one was golden and one was chocolate. Too sweet. Luckily Fudge didn’t meet them or she would have been very jealous!
Mrs J is still going fine. I took her shopping a couple of weeks ago and she loved it. I say shopping – we went to Asda – but I actually had fun too! She’s wonderful and I’m having so much fun. Don’t tell anyone at work but it’s almost more fun than Lilies!
Today wasn’t one of the better days though. I met her grandson. Only he ain’t that grand.
I turned up at the house today and I’d brought some essentials with me like milk, eggs, ice-cream and whatever. I was putting things in the fridge when someone grabbed my arm and near yanked it out of the socket. The guy demanded to know who I was and what the hell I was doing stealing stuff from his grandmother’s freezer.
I may not be able to be mean to some people but I was so mad. Firstly, what self-respecting burglar would start off by going into the freezer? For that matter, if I had simply wanted to steal food, why on earth would I want stuff that was frozen solid! Oooh, I’m still fizzing just thinking about it! I’m pretty sure that since this is the first man that I’ve come face to face with that’s made me mad since the break-up, he bore the brunt of my anger but he deserved it! The funny thing was (it’s only funny now that I’ve calmed down!) that the thing that got me maddest was that while he was remonstrating with me for being a thief/vagrant/whatever, the freezer was still standing open and for some reason that pissed me off. I think he was a little stunned when, instead of answering his questions I just started into a huge rant about how bad that was for the environment and how it was people like him that were to blame for global warming. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks that I’m a lunatic now! Not that I care!
Mrs J wandered in and saw the pair of us standing there (standing off?) and told him who I was and then told me to close the freezer, didn’t I know that leaving it open was bad for the environment. If I’d been closer to freezer-boy I would have kicked him in the goolies and smacked the smug smile off his face.
The real shame is that he is gorgeous. I mean, knees weak, mouth dry, ruggedly gorgeous and so my type. Unfortunately for me he’s a doofus. Never judge a book by his cover – my mum always says that and as I’ve promised, I’m going to be listening to her from now on!
Onto happier things, work at Lilies (the florists that I work for) has finally slowed down after the craziness of last weekend and I like it so much better now. I prefer it when you can take a little more time with each customer and it also gives you the opportunity to ask what the flowers are for and get a little back story! During the run up to the big occasions (like Valentine’s Day) it’s all the same and it gets boring. Today, a 50-odd year old man came into the shop looking for a bouquet of flowers for his wife because she had a cold and he hoped he could cheer her up. Now that’s romance and made me all happy inside! Since the only romance I’ve gotten of late has been a stalker and a total arse – I think I might sign up to match.com so I can at least meet some interesting men!
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
The new job
It’s so nice to be able to wake up every morning and be excited for the day to come. It’s like the feeling you get when the sun is shining the birds are singing and you feel that everything is right with the world. All I need now are little animals to come out of the forest when I sing and I’m in a Disney cartoon!
I started my job with Mrs Jenkins, oh, two and a bit weeks ago now and it’s just great. Mrs Jenkins reminds me of Mrs Pepperpot but with style. At least style enough for an eighty-something year old! She’s cute as a button but feisty along with it and some of the things that she says make me blush to my very toes! She tells stories of when she used to go skinny dipping with the local lads as a young girl, when she was caught kissing the vicar’s son – and then seems shocked when she thinks my tops are too revealing or my skirts are too short. And my skirts are rarely above my knee – it’s still winter after all and even then, I’m not sure I have the legs to carry off short skirts. But that’s irrelevant. She’s completely confusing but that just makes her interesting and already I don’t think of it as a job but as something that’s just fun to do – I should have been doing this volunteering thing ages ago.
I normally head over to Mrs J’s about 3 times a week and spend at least a couple of hours there. She eats like a bird so the cooking isn’t too demanding but as soon as she learned that I could bake cakes, she’s always after me to make her scones, cakes or buns. Since I get to eat them too, I never argue.
I took Fudge (my bichon frisé) up to her house one time and she seemed a little wary of the little ball of fluff and told me she was watching her closely to make sure she wouldn’t, and I quote, “whiz” on her couch! When I offered to put Fudge out in the car she said that I didn’t need to bother myself. I’m pretty sure she likes Fudge more than she wants to!
This afternoon she made me water her flowers (because it was sunny!) and then, after I’d fixed the lightbulb in the loo and cleaned up the kitchen, we ate cake while watching the telly. The snooker is on at the moment and Mrs J decided to watch it since Steven Hendry was playing and she thinks he’s hot. This disturbed me immensely. I’m not saying Stephen Hendry isn’t hot – I’ll admit I’ve never even thought about it – but it’s just not something you expect to hear from such a small, elderly woman. It’s never going to be dull, that’s for sure.
Here’s hoping things continue on like this and the sun is here to stay!
I started my job with Mrs Jenkins, oh, two and a bit weeks ago now and it’s just great. Mrs Jenkins reminds me of Mrs Pepperpot but with style. At least style enough for an eighty-something year old! She’s cute as a button but feisty along with it and some of the things that she says make me blush to my very toes! She tells stories of when she used to go skinny dipping with the local lads as a young girl, when she was caught kissing the vicar’s son – and then seems shocked when she thinks my tops are too revealing or my skirts are too short. And my skirts are rarely above my knee – it’s still winter after all and even then, I’m not sure I have the legs to carry off short skirts. But that’s irrelevant. She’s completely confusing but that just makes her interesting and already I don’t think of it as a job but as something that’s just fun to do – I should have been doing this volunteering thing ages ago.
I normally head over to Mrs J’s about 3 times a week and spend at least a couple of hours there. She eats like a bird so the cooking isn’t too demanding but as soon as she learned that I could bake cakes, she’s always after me to make her scones, cakes or buns. Since I get to eat them too, I never argue.
I took Fudge (my bichon frisé) up to her house one time and she seemed a little wary of the little ball of fluff and told me she was watching her closely to make sure she wouldn’t, and I quote, “whiz” on her couch! When I offered to put Fudge out in the car she said that I didn’t need to bother myself. I’m pretty sure she likes Fudge more than she wants to!
This afternoon she made me water her flowers (because it was sunny!) and then, after I’d fixed the lightbulb in the loo and cleaned up the kitchen, we ate cake while watching the telly. The snooker is on at the moment and Mrs J decided to watch it since Steven Hendry was playing and she thinks he’s hot. This disturbed me immensely. I’m not saying Stephen Hendry isn’t hot – I’ll admit I’ve never even thought about it – but it’s just not something you expect to hear from such a small, elderly woman. It’s never going to be dull, that’s for sure.
Here’s hoping things continue on like this and the sun is here to stay!
Monday, 6 June 2011
Something old, something new...
It’s been 6 weeks and 4 days since I broke up with my boyfriend of 6 months, 3 weeks and 2 days. Although ‘broke up with’ is perhaps not as appropriate as ‘dumped the lying shit’ – but that’s simply semantics.
I have managed to forgo the usual pattern of breaking up having completely skipped the upset and moved straight to the anger section of the process. That is really a gimme since he decided that it was acceptable to sleep with one of my friends over the weekend that I was lying sick in my bed with the flu. So that’s one ex-boyfriend and one ex-friend with no waiting!
Honestly, I think I’m more mortified than anything else. And a little embarrassed and, of course, livid. But the fact that I wasn’t as upset as I think I should be probably shows that perhaps he wasn’t the right guy for me. Well, that and the fact that he slept with my friend! What a git! Surely there are some guys out there with a little moral fibre.
My mum never liked him anyway which should have made me worry from the get go. Always listen to your mum – that’s my new motto! So I’m practically over it now (apart from the little flares of righteous anger that come every now and then) and I’m quite excited to be single. We’ll just see how long that excitement lasts.
And to be even more positive – I don’t have to buy that god-awful bran cereal I hate, I don’t have to see whether the toilet seat is up or down and I don’t have to feel guilty when I want to watch a soppy, girly thing on the telly just because he’s missing yet another night of football.
So this is the start of my blog and my new life! As well as my normal job (I work in a florists and occasionally my mum makes me help with her dog walking business) I just got a ‘job’ helping this little old lady in her home. I’ll just be doing little tasks for her, some cooking, cleaning, shopping but mainly keeping her company. Should be fun and a little different so long as she’s not one of those evil old ladies that’s going to be nasty to me. And also so long as she doesn’t make me catch any spiders! That starts on Monday so I’ll let you know if I survive.
I have managed to forgo the usual pattern of breaking up having completely skipped the upset and moved straight to the anger section of the process. That is really a gimme since he decided that it was acceptable to sleep with one of my friends over the weekend that I was lying sick in my bed with the flu. So that’s one ex-boyfriend and one ex-friend with no waiting!
Honestly, I think I’m more mortified than anything else. And a little embarrassed and, of course, livid. But the fact that I wasn’t as upset as I think I should be probably shows that perhaps he wasn’t the right guy for me. Well, that and the fact that he slept with my friend! What a git! Surely there are some guys out there with a little moral fibre.
My mum never liked him anyway which should have made me worry from the get go. Always listen to your mum – that’s my new motto! So I’m practically over it now (apart from the little flares of righteous anger that come every now and then) and I’m quite excited to be single. We’ll just see how long that excitement lasts.
And to be even more positive – I don’t have to buy that god-awful bran cereal I hate, I don’t have to see whether the toilet seat is up or down and I don’t have to feel guilty when I want to watch a soppy, girly thing on the telly just because he’s missing yet another night of football.
So this is the start of my blog and my new life! As well as my normal job (I work in a florists and occasionally my mum makes me help with her dog walking business) I just got a ‘job’ helping this little old lady in her home. I’ll just be doing little tasks for her, some cooking, cleaning, shopping but mainly keeping her company. Should be fun and a little different so long as she’s not one of those evil old ladies that’s going to be nasty to me. And also so long as she doesn’t make me catch any spiders! That starts on Monday so I’ll let you know if I survive.
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