My view of 2012

I have neglected my blog this year. In all my years blogging, which I think you'll agree are numerous, I have never blogged so little. But today, the last day of 2012, I would like to give you my view of 2012 (this is based on the joke my parents used to make when we were 'revising'..."more like vision" they'd say. You can imagine how well that went down.

Blogging so little makes it seem like 2012 wasn't a good year. And it was, it so was.


Let's (re)view, shall we?

1. I was a vegetarian. For a whole month. One of the highlights of this was definitely Spinach Pie. 

2. I made a spaceship and made a little boy's dreams come true by picturing him with his hero.

3. I saw the stupidest car that ever lived.

4. I visited Emma in Nashville and went back to North Carolina on a mammoth one day road trip.

5. I judged a singer/songwriter contest show in Franklin, TN. (All the restaurant guests did, this wasn't based on my previous experience of CHW's Got Talent 2008).

6. I went skiing in Colorado. I heart skiing. I heart Colorado.

7. I was skiing on St. Patrick's Day - for the third time in my life, quite an achievement I'm sure you'll agree.

8. I saw where the best burger in Denver is served. Unassuming I think you'll agree. They weren't open, otherwise I might have checked the veracity of their claim.

9. I was interviewed for local TV in Denver. I don't know if they ever showed it though.

10. I went to Mile High Stadium on the day Tim Tebow's future was unclear.

11. I had a cake decorated for me celebrating my dedication to CHW. Although, also accurately points out that I have been '1986-2012 minus some'.

12. I joined the rest of the smart phone world in playing Draw Something. These are two of my favourites. I though I really got the spirit of New York and covered Ringo's career highlights accurately.

13. I went to Serbia.

14. I did some Serbian dancing. Well, it seemed only polite.

15. I drank some Serbian rocket fuel. They don't market it as that though.

16. I made cake pops. They are the ultimate in bake-faffing.

17. I saw the Olympic flame. Lots, actually. But this photo is in Belfast.

18. I went to the Olympics. Oh my goodness! I went to the Olympics and had the time of my life! At some point I'd like to blog properly about the experience.

19. For now I will say this: being in the stadium on Super Saturday was one of the best nights of my life. (The Opening Ceremony would definitely be another.)

Jessica Ennis on her lap of honour with the other heptathletes. And, why yes that is the sandpit that Greg Rutherford had just jumped into on his way to Olympic Gold. (We were much closer than this picture would make it seem.)

20. I learnt that Rhythmic Gymnastics is a lifeskill. Granted this was from the commentator in arena; he may have been biased. (Yes, rhythmic gymnastics, it wasn't all about Team GB gold medals.)

21. I rode the London Underground with Becky Adlington and the Team GB swim team .

22. In other famous swimming news from 2012, I met Ian Thorpe. 

23. I got the plane with Austin O'Callaghan. He was on his way back from the Olympics too.

24. I got a fringe. And then I grew it out. 

25. I got to go to meetings where things like this are at your place. Yes! 

26. I made beer butt chicken. And proved that life is a Friends episode.

27. I moved out. Again. And into a house where these get made...and there's spares sometimes! Yes!

28. I spent way too long looking at these blue chairs when I was waiting to hear that I hadn't broken my jaw.

29. I carved an Ulster pumpkin. It was my first pumpkin carving so I was fairly chuffed with my efforts. 

30. I saw Ben Howard live. Keep your head up, keep your heart strong.

So that's 2012. I loved it!

But like Jed would say 'what's next?'

Open wide

I am not doing very well blogging my adventures, which of course implies I've had many.
Take last week for example. Last week, I spent a happy 6 hours in A & E. Yes for me.

So let me expand upon that.

I had gone home to my parents' to pick up a few things I needed. Straight in, grab the stuff, straight out. What actually happened though was a lot more complicated, however. I tripped over the front step. Yes, the same front step I've been stepping over - without incident - since 1991.

Not so bad you're thinking. Well try not to wince when I tell you that rather than just stumbling, or even falling down, I fell into Dad's car - face first. Actually, I landed my jaw on the headlight before landing on the driveway.

I howled, like actually screamed, for a short while on the driveway before I realised I didn't want the neighbours to find me like this. After feeling for my teeth (and checking there were none on the driveway) I hobbled up and made my way to the freezer for an ice pack for my jaw (further demonstrating my good, non-panicky emergency skills) I stopped by the mirror and saw the blood in my mouth, which, thankfully, was just coming from a small cut inside my lip. Then I called my parents to tell them I thought I'd need an x-ray. I said it hurt a lot, Dad asked if I'd had a painkiller. Ha! I was so beyond painkiller pain.

So there I was in A & E with no real outward sign of my injury. No bruise materialised and there wasn't much swelling to notice. So it really did look like I was just there for my two scraped knees. So I held my jaw for extra effect. Obviously.

I really really hoped my jaw wasn't broken because they wire it shut. I also hoped that I wouldn't throw up because of the painkillers, because having to open my mouth that wide would be horrendous. Oh yeah, and I don't like being sick.

The x-ray was quite cool. Well I say that, but I had to stand perfectly still while biting a yellow grip thing (which I'm not entirely sure was sterilised beforehand) while the radiologist broke the machine twice. When she did get it working is swooped around my head doing its x-ray vision thing. The swooping was cool, the rest of it I could take or leave.

When I broke my hand in Singapore and had to go to x-ray by the time I had made it back downstairs to the doctor he had my x-ray on his computer screen. Not so much here. It took a long time for them to tell me they didn't think my jaw was broken. Any thoughts I had of smiling at that point ended, well yes with the pain, but also with the news I'd have to see a specialist the next morning at 8.30am. It was 3.00am.

So later that morning the max fax (maxillofacial - Max Factor make-up has a cleverer name than I ever gave it credit for) specialist told me my jaw definitely wasn't broken. Thoughts of smiling were still far from my head though. She told me I'd have to work over the coming days to stretch my jaw back otherwise I could have long term damage, but for a few days I'd be on a liquid diet and soft food for about three weeks. Definitely no crusty bread or apples for me.

It's been quite sore, right up to my ear. Talking tires me out but I haven't had to talk through my teeth though. Stretching has been hard work too. By Friday evening I could fit one finger in my mouth and twist it 90 degrees. Skips (the crisp) would just about fit into that gap, although some would have to be broken. On Saturday I had run out of soup so tried beans. That's when I got my (temporary) fear of eating implements from - it didn't go too well. Don't worry, I haven't wasted away. Wotsits, Skips and chocolate Buttons alongside soup and smoothies. Last night I came home to my parents' and had my first proper meal since Wednesday night's Spag Bol. (I mean, if that was going to be my last meal, what a way to go. Only sorry I didn't have the garlic bread now.)

I can open my mouth quite far now, maybe not Dentist-wide (that's the industry term) and chewing is still quite difficult but I really am so lucky it wasn't worse, because it really could have been.

I mean, what would I have done if the chocolate Buttons didn't fit?

[Beth Lav (shoutout!) hoped for me to write a comical blog about all this in six months' time. I'm not sure that I'll ever find this as funny having happened to me, as opposed to if I'd seen it happen - I laugh when I see people trip, I can't help it. But when you see a headlight (albeit from a stationary car) that close to, it's hard to find funny. Five and half years on from my broken hand, I'm still not laughing about that (although there were parts of that made me laugh - like squeezing shampoo straight onto my head and the soapy bubble mess I made because I had no clue how much I had put on). This will probably be the same - thinking about it will be no fun, till I remember all the day-to-day things that made me laugh.]

Ee by gum

Shut up. It still counts as this week, even though I blogged last Sunday that I would blog this past week.

So here's the list of stories I need to blog about:
Movies (January '12)
Visiting Emma (March '12)
Visiting NC (March '12)
Flying to Colorado (March '12)
Colorado (March '12)
Serbia (May '12)
Getting home from Serbia (May '12)
Exam answers (June/July '12)
The Opening Ceremony of the Olympics (July '12)
The Olympics in general (July/August '12)
My new house (August '12)
Music (January - September '12)

So with that list in mind I'll start with my visit to the dentist this week. (Leave it.)

I have had that nightmare that your teeth fall out and it is horrible because I like my teeth. When I was at summer camp, I got hit in the mouth by a tree branch that someone was moving. I know, I don't know quite how it happened either. But I do know, even today, what my first words were afterwards: 'Are my teeth all still there?' Thankfully they were. What appeared over the next hours was a bruise on my chin the size of China. (Which is not to say I've got a chin the size of China, but that the bruise was massive.)

So I like my teeth and they are surprising good for all the Coke I drink. I didn't get a filling until I was 28. Actually, I may have been 29, I can't remember, but I know it was after Singapore. I have a couple more now, but all in all they're not bad.

Up to August, I'd only ever had one dentist. My entire life only one person had ever looked at my teeth. I never needed a dentist in NC or Singapore. But she retired and closed her surgery last year. I was beyond sad because I trusted her and I liked that she knew my teeth and knew exactly what had been done. Her children were about my age, and Peter had gone to YF at the same time as me, so we used to catch up on what we were all doing. Knowing I was a teacher, she'd ask me about the Transfer Test and its merits. That's when I made it a policy never to disagree with someone who's about to mess with your teeth.

I've started going to a new dentist now and it's different. Firstly, she's young. Like younger than me. And she has a dental hygienist so rather than Ms. McVeigh just having a look in silence and then telling me what needs done, this girl talks to her dental hygienist and gets her to...pass her things that I don't know what they are. The other thing that is weird is that the seem to use my chest as some sort of tool bench for setting down these unknown instruments. Ms. McVeigh never did that. In fairness though, Ms. McVeigh never put that apron thing on me or those weird glasses (to stop 'flying debris' getting in my eyes apparently. Eh what?!)

But the thing I miss most about going to the dentist is the waiting room. Now, don't get me wrong, the waiting room in this place is lovely, very modern and clean. But there's no picture of Foggy, Clegg and Compo. You know, from Last of the Summer Wine.

There is it, in all its former glory. Also, check out the gold patterned wallpaper. Another gem.

I had to take it sideyways to stop my reflection. I hope it doesn't diminish its beauty.

Honestly, I can't tell you the hours I've spent wondering why there was a picture of the three amigos in my dentist's. So much so, the last time I was in there I had to take a photo of it.

I mean, why would you even buy it, let alone put it up in a place where other people will see it?

Distracted

I plan on blogging this week. So much to write about sometimes it's hard to know where to start. At the beginning I suppose. But this week? This week I plan to make my comeback to the blogging world for it has missed me.

I'm sure.

I'm as excited as a very excited person who's got a special reason to be excited

It's tomorrow! It's tomorrow! It's tomorrow!

This morning in the shower I caught sight of the countdown clock that's been in there for the past 18 months or so. There was the '1' looking back at me! I squeed right there in the shower! I can't think of anything in my life that I have been more excited about for as long as I have been excited about the London Olympics.

One day! One day! (This photo was taken tonight. Well, who takes their phone to the shower and takes a photo?!)

I mentioned way back in 2005 about how I found out London won the bid on the way to Ruth's wedding. Well, seven years later and we're here!

I love the Olympics. When I think about it,  I suppose I was always going to. They have the history, they have the sport, they have the 'national event'. All box tickers for me! And I was even born on the day Duncan Goodhew won a gold medal in the Moscow Olympics. It's like it was written in the stars!

In 1988, I remember colouring in South Korea flags in school. I remember me and my friends wanting to be Flo Jo and the disgust that Ben Johnston would cheat. I remember seeing Daley Thomspon's pole break during a vault, although of course I had no idea then what that really meant, despite Des Lynham's best efforts to explain it.

I remember watching Sally Gunnell, Linford Christie, Chris Boardman, the Searle brothers with Garry Herbert and Redgrave and Pinsent win gold medals in 1992. I remember fighting back the tears as Derek Redmond finished his race with his dad after he tore his hamstring. 

In 1996 I sat up most of the night watching the action from Atlanta live, slept-in in the morning to do it all the next day. And that was in GB&NI's disappointing Olympics. Since 2000 and the start of lottery funding GB & NI have really had something to shout about at the Games and I've celebrated Team GB's successes in Sydney, Athens and Beijing. 

But I've equally been enthralled at the fortunes of a Kazakstan weightlifter or a Vietnamese archer. Pierre de Coubertin said what was important in life was to have fought well. So when a weightlifter tries to beat his personal best in the clean and jerk, or an archer tries to get an arrow in the gold, that doesn't happen without four years of training, commitment and sacrifices. That's where the fight happens. We're mere spectators in the final act of four years' work. Sometimes there's triumph, sometimes not, but I can't help but be captivated by that.

So you see, I would have loved this summer even if Paris, or another city, had come out on top in the vote. But this is an Olympics in my home country and I'm going to see the some of the athletes live and in the flesh that I've only seen on TV or followed on Twitter! That P4 girl colouring her South Korean flag never imagined that she would ever get the chance to go see an Olympic Games.

I get that some people aren't as excited as I am, and to those people I ask what was beyond your wildest dream as a kid? And what have you waited seven years for, with eager excitement, once you knew it was scheduled to happen?

Tell you what, you can come back to me in 2019 and tell me sure.