Ikea Belfast Customer of the Fortnight

I've moved. Again. This summer I had the joy of moving home to my parents for a month. And they had the absolute delight of me living with them again. It's hard to know who was more thrilled. Me having a freakout at their eating noises (shut up, it's a brain disorder, don't mock the afflicted!), or them because I am so bright and sunshiny in the morning.

After my birthday, Mum and I went to London for the Anniversary Games. It's not the point of this post, so maybe I'll blog about it in, say, October. Then home for a few days before Castlewellan. Straight after Castlewellan was Moving Day. As I hadn't even moved stuff from the hall when I moved home at the end of June, I definitely didn't see the point of moving stuff when I came from Castlewellan. What?! My parents love me, ergo they love having my crap clutter up every square centimetre of the hall because it reminds them of me. I don't see the problem myself.

So Moving Day was more like Moving Fortnight. Well, it's hard work in my car! I'd work out what needed to go next, think it wasn't that much stuff, load the car all the while thinking what I could fill the extra space with and bam, the car was full.

And then came the trips to Ikea. It starts off so inspirational! The Warehouse of Dreams! You dream big dreams of how you're going to organise the space, you measure, you check, you colour match. You go back to the store, you head straight to the Market Hall and warehouse with your trolley. You double back because you forgot something. You head to the check out, you have fun with the little scanner barcode reader. You use your own 40p Frakta blue bag, because you're a pro and you have one, which you brought with you because you're that organised. You load up the car. You relearn not to take the direct route to the car because your trolley cannot jump the curb on the other side.

At home you speed up the next trip by downloading the app. You measure, you check, you decide, you go back to the Warehouse of Illusions. You get annoyed at other customers with their slow dandering aspirational walk getting in your way. You get distracted by other things you 'need'. You forget things that weren't added to app's shopping list because you couldn't quite remember how to spell 'Snarkeldöff' correctly. You can't be bothered to go double back on yourself, because let's face it, you know you're going to be back tomorrow or the day after, getting other things and making returns for things that didn't quite fit/work/match like you'd hoped.

You start to recognise workers and have the awkward do-I-say-hi-because-he-served-me-last-trip moment. You start to get a complex about how much you've been here recently and maybe he thinks you're stalking him. You have to decide whether you put your head down, busy in the Ikeaing moment or give a shrug of 'I should just move here, eh?'. You fall between two stools (or two Frostas, if you will) and end up giving a very determined shrug while power walking with a trolley through the table lamps. You feign interest in a massive floor lamp simply because you can hide behind it to get some distance between you and him.

You get to the right warehouse location using the app, but the stock information tells you it can't update stock numbers because there's no signal in the Warehouse of Disillusionment. You don't care, you're here: they either have it or they don't. You didn't realise there was a rush on Smarchetts since you left the house. You look hopefully in adjacent locations, but damn this Swedish efficiency, of course there are no more Smarchetts. You start to think through your other plans for the week and when you can possibly come back when they get Smarchett back in. You leave, having driven out for a handful of small items that really weren't urgent at all. You try to tell yourself it's good that you have the storage boxes without the storage solution they're designed to be used with.

You get the picture, right? In fact, you probably have it in a Ribba frame too. How can a place with so much bright sunny yellow turn so grey so quickly? I have plans for no new trips to Ikea this week. Except I might return that massive photo frame that's adding so much to living room, leaning up against the wall, wrapped up in its cellophane.

Or I might not. 90 days return policy, see.

Well, you sometimes don't know when you're going to be headed that way.

33rd International Tina Day. Now with royal approval!

The day we've all been waiting for! The media have gathered for days and finally can report on the news they've all been anticipating: I am 33.

I've had a lovely day. It started with watching the Tour de France from yesterday (because Karen made me a wonderful paleo dinner. More on that to come!) then I had lunch (a panini, since you asked), then I saw the bestest little people in the world! Now, I'm enjoying a summer night with a fire pit. Good times!

And of course, the actual big news today was the future king was born! I love a national event and so was excited when I woke up this morning to the alert on my phone (which have just started on my phone and I haven't worked out how to turn them off).

I was excited, not because Kate was in labour, but because Kate was in labour and the future monarch could be born on my birthday! A birthday future of national events!!

Just as I was leaving on the drive back down this end of the country the news came through. What was I actually doing at 4.24pm, when the third in line to the throne was born? Sitting, sweating in a roasting town hall watching a kids' production of Peter Pan.

Following the leader. Indeed.

The awkward silence

It didn't start out awkward but it definitely is now. I didn't mean not to blog in 2013, it just sort of turned out like that. And once you don't blog, the stories build up and then it becomes more awkward because you have too many stories to tell you don't know where to begin.

I've been asked by, literally units of people when I'm going to blog again. Ruth even asked me when I was going to delete my blog. I'm surprised she asked me that though because she lived through Lost in Space and knows I throw nothing away and the collection of stories, photos and recollections this blog brings up for me is far too valuable to throw away just out of embarrassment at not having blogged for seven months. I mean really, what's seven months between friends, eh?

At some point though, you just have to take the bull by the horns or the blog post by the keyboard and put something down. So here it is. My first blog post to break the awkward silence. So how have you been keeping...?

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.]