Archive for February, 2009

Episode 79. In which I talk about science.

Posted in sci-fi, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 28, 2009 by diabetses

Last weekend we were at the pub, talking about gardens and allotments.  Our new flat has a little garden with it that we are intending to use to grow vegetables and some fruit maybe and we have friends with allotments, so we were talking about how to go about things.  Of course there were some comments made regarding manure and after one particularly inappropriate one someone mentioned that you can’t use faeces with meat products in it.  Apparently only poo from a vegetarian (person or animal) can be used as fertiliser.

My first thought, and therefore the first question out of my mouth was, what if you feed a horse a sausage?

Surely, if you feed a horse a sausage, its poo is no longer useful as manure.  But what I want to know is, what happens when the manure from that horse is sold on to a bunch of organic farms, does their crop fail, or do they just not grow properly, or do they mutate, or what?

On the subject of science, we are currently watching Deep Blue Sea, which is one of the best films ever.  Let’s face it, Samuel L Jackson rocks, and any film in which he gets eaten in the middle of giving an inspirational speech has something that most films don’t.  Also, LL Cool J hiding in an oven and the genetically engineered shark turning on the gas was quite spectacular.

Anyway, science is cool.

Diabetic moment of the day

I didn’t have one today, although I didn’t eat anything until after we’d finished cleaning the old flat (I went there at 10am and didn’t wear my watch, by the time I got home it was gone 2pm, that place is spotless) so when I checked my blood sugar it was at the point where if I’d gone much longer I probably would’ve gone symptomatic.  Timing, eh?


Episode 78. In which I put on my biker boots and kick a man in the ankles.

Posted in Internet, people, rant with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2009 by diabetses

The above is a falsehood.  For one thing, I was already wearing my biker boots, I didn’t have to go and put them on.  For another, I didn’t actually kick him in the ankles, because he moved out of my way at the last minute.  And finally, the above implies I made an effort to kick him in the ankles when, in reality, if he’d got himself kicked in the ankles it would’ve been by accident.  With perhaps a tiny element of me not making use of my superhuman ninja speed when he stopped dead in front of me in the middle of a crowded train station leaving me nowhere to swerve to.

I read something today about a girl who wrote something on facebook about how her job was boring, and got sacked for it.  I happen to consider this ridiculous.  If anyone doesn’t consider their job boring from time to time then they’re not doing it right.  Everything gets boring eventually.  This was a 16 year old girl who, funnily enough, needed a bit more than three weeks of her first job to learn the rules of what you just put up with because it’s paying your rent.

That said, I do love my job, and feel very lucky to have it.

Diabetic moment of the day

Today I forgot to bring needles to work.  So I was very careful about what I ate and didn’t need any insulin anyway.  I’m starving, though.

Episode 77. In which I get stuck in a lift, and other exciting adventures.

Posted in food, general health, people with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 26, 2009 by diabetses

Things I have done today.

  • Got stuck in a lift.  If only for a few seconds.  You know when you walk into the kitchen, and you don’t know why you’re there?  A little voice somewhere in your head is going “here, over here, it’s me, I needed you to get the scissors, that’s why you’re in here!” but you’re vaguely aware of noise but no details, so you go and sit back down and think “now where did I leave the scissors?”.  Today, I was that little voice.  And the lift couldn’t remember why it had gone all the way to the sixth floor.  So it sat there and wouldn’t open the doors, even when I pressed the doors open button.  Until I pressed the sixth floor button again.
  • Drank a tall sugarfree vanilla skinny latte.  I do love these, but I very rarely have them, because coffee often gives me headaches, and because I find them far too filling and never finish them.  Today I finished it, and it was good, start to finish.
  • Found a little spiral curl in my hair.  Right in front of my ear where it fell out of my ponytail.  When I was at school girls would spend hours trying to create a little spiral in front of their ear.  Yay me.
  • Got compared to Working Girl.  Because I’ve decided to start wearing lipstick to work like a proper grown-up.  Kind of like what Melanie Griffiths (or whatever her name is) did.
  • Got nice feedback.
  • Set some objectives
  • Made a shopping list.  And then proceeded to buy everything on it.  Which is another rare occurence for me.
  • Wrote a rota.  Which sounds cool in itself.
  • Got a cold call from just the man I needed to speak to.  I’d never called that organisation before, but was asked to find some stuff out from them this morning, and before I got round to finding their number, they called up to try to sell me some stuff.
  • Compared myself to the non-Duracell bunny.  If I don’t get a proper lunchbreak then come 4pm I am like the bunny that didn’t get the Duracell batteries.
  • Counted the minutes.  I didn’t get a proper lunchbreak.
  • Made, and ate, pancakes, with a tiny scrape of tart lemon curd on top.
  • Wrote this out by hand.  Luckily.  Because I doubt I’d have had the energy to think it up right now.

Diabetic moment of the day

Didn’t have one.  That’s a good thing.

Episode 76. In which I go back to work.

Posted in general health, Henry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2009 by diabetses

As a general rule, I try not to take long periods of time off work in one go.  By long periods I mean anything more than about three days (not counting weekends, of course).  Today was my first day back at work in nine days, and it was very, very difficult.  There was a lot for me to do and I worked through lunch to get through it.  Unfortunately I forgot that I can’t do working through lunch.  I have a certain number of hours in me each day, and if I work through lunch then I am completely run down by 4pm and I spend the last hour and a half a lot less productively than I could.  I need to remember to take my lunchbreak and start again at 2pm, so that I can work right up to 5.30 and, if I’m lucky, have one of those “is it that time already?” moments.

They’re great.

Also, Henry’s not well, My Man’s got to take him to the vet tomorrow.  I thought at first it was just the stress of moving house, although he doesn’t seem too stressed in his personality, just he’s constantly in the litter tray, but it’s been a couple of days now and he’s still happy enough but he’s still in the litter tray a lot.  So we’ve got to get him seen to.  Poor ickle kitty.

Diabetic moment of the day

I don’t think I had a diabetic moment today.  I don’t think I had time.  I checked my blood sugar a couple of times and they were perfect.  Yay pancreas.

Episode 75. In which I tried to blog from my phone, and failed.

Posted in Internet with tags , , , , , , on February 25, 2009 by diabetses

It seems that I can’t blog from my phone.  I tried, cos that’s 3G+ instead of WiFi which we didn’t have for days and days and days (did I mention that?) and I got right up to this page but it was all screwy on the screen so I couldn’t see where to do the typing or anything.  Sorry about that, yet another fail in my allegedly daily blog.  😦

Diabetic moment of the day

Yesterday I went to get little presents for the team that had been looking after my department while I was off work last week.  Of course, I used this as an excuse to go into Montezumas and just, basically, stand there inhaling chocolate fumes.  I went into the chocolate shop across the way too, I can’t remember what it’s called but it’s got a stupid name, and they’ve got chocolate dogs and things.  I saw a milk chocolate spaniel or something on a table, then looked down and saw a life-sized west highland terrier statute on the floor.  It was white, and I didn’t know if it was a doorstop or made out of white chocolate.  And the thought that occured to me was this.

I should kick it.  Then if it’s made of chocolate it’ll smash, and I’ll know.

I didn’t.

Episode 74. In which we hire a carpet cleaner.

Posted in Henry, home, inanimate objects with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2009 by diabetses

Today we’ve got a proper carpet cleaner, to make sure that we give back our old flat nice and clean, as a good tenant should.  It all sounded like great fun until we actually turned it on, at which point it became a bit scary and “yes, the carpet will be clean, but what are the possible downsides to this?

It’s going fine, don’t get me wrong, My Man’s done the bedroom and it’s drying right now.  It’s just a bit serious, put this much of this liquid in, spray that liquid on the carpet and leave it for ten minutes, mix that much water at no hotter than that temperature in with this liquid and then put your hand on this trigger and so on and so on.  Basically, just begging for me to go and do something idiotic.

While we were doing this Henry appeared outside the back door.  We let him out at the new flat quite soon because he doesn’t explore far, I mean he will do but to start with he stayed in the courtyard, then he strayed up the stairs a bit, then he went into the upstairs garden but always where he could see us, and now he’s exploring around the place.  I think he must’ve heard me or something in the old flat because I looked out the window at one point and he was sitting by the back door staring at me.  He may think he’s been bodysnatched, after all how else can he explain there being a me and My Man at the new place, and also a me and My Man at the new place?  I eventually had to carry him through the front door and back to the new flat.  Hopefully he won’t go back, or at least he won’t hang around if he doesn’t see me in the window gazing back at him.

He’s still getting used to the new place.  To be honest, he’s pooing a lot.  Or at least scratching around in his litter tray a lot.  For now it’s in the hall by the front door, just because there are still boxes everywhere else.  And we must’ve been woken up at least ten times last night by him scratching around.  I think he might be working through a little bit of an unsettled tummy, caused by all the moving around and confusion.  My Man thinks he may be bulimic.

Diabetic moment of the day

We are still without internet, TV or landline.  We are being blamed for this and this morning it was implied very strongly by someone in customer services that we had done something wrong and were making things up and lying about whether or not we’d received a letter about it.  As soon as I can get hooked up to a printer a very strongly-worded letter will be going to the company, with a copy for Ofcom, just for good measure.

Whilst talking to customer services I was made so angry, and so offended, and I was making such an effort to stay rational that I somehow managed to dump all my blood sugar and had to eat a handful of dolly mixtures as soon as I hung up.

So presumably the implication would then be that I had lied about what I knew and didn’t know and the effort of lying was such that I faked a hypoglycaemic attack for attention.

Episode 73. In which Virgin Media fail on a whole new level

Posted in home, Internet, people, rant, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 22, 2009 by diabetses

We just moved house.  As you know if you’ve ever read this blog before.  We told Virgin Media when we were moving, and they agreed to have our service transferred over to the new flat quick smart.  My Man had to talk to them for a good long while but it was eventually agreed that we didn’t need a man to come out and install the set in the new flat.  The landlady had had Virgin wiring installed before we even signed the lease, so it was purely a case of carrying the box to the new flat and hooking it up, which we are perfectly capable of doing for ourselves.  However, we had no option but to be internetless for a little while because they claimed there would have to be two separate visits to switch off our connection at the old flat and switch it on again at the new place.  This despite the two flats being on the same street, only a few doors apart.  Anyway we let it slide.

Last week our phone stopped working.  We couldn’t work it out, the TV and internet were still up and running, but we assumed they’d switched off the old flat phoneline somehow and the TV and internet still working was a fluke.

When we moved in yesterday, My Man hooked up the modem and managed to get us online, no problem at all.  We didn’t hook up the TV because everything was in boxes and let’s face it, the internet is far more important than TV, even to a lazy cow like me.  We watched a few DVDs while pottering around online (and blogging about crossing the line and suchlike) and then went to bed.  We don’t have a phone connection in the new flat but we thought we’d call Virgin to get that sorted out sometime, whenever, we don’t use the landline anyway, it’s just as cheap to include it in the package as not, and it gives us a freephone line to the Virgin helpdesk.

This morning when we got up, the internet wasn’t working.  We hooked up the TV and it wasn’t working either, we watched a few minutes of MTV (because it was on, that’s why) and when we tried to change the channel we got an error message about how we’re not subscribed to use whatever service and we’ll have to call them on their freephone number from our Virgin landline to discuss it.

We don’t have a phone plug, therefore we don’t have a freephone Virgin landline.

I called on my mobile and it took a good two minutes of pointless, irrelevant recorded messages (including one about buying tickets to the V Festival or whatever it’s called, thanks for that, I’m really glad I’m going to get charged about £2 for listening to instructions on buying tickets for my worst nightmare) and eventually heard a recorded message about a problem with V+ services.  Not in our postcode, but the two postcodes either side of ours, so I thought it was probably that, and let it slide.  All day we were rebooting the modem and the TV box and it never came back online.

Eventually I thought, this can’t be coincidence, it’s bound to be connected to the move.  So I phoned them again on my mobile (by the way it was a full three minutes before I actually got to speak to a person) and eventually was told that the installation man had come round on Friday but there was nobody home, and our account had therefore not been activated.  I was told that another man would come round on Wednesday, and then it would all be straightened out.

I pointed out that we had agreed there was no need for an installation man to come round, that we certainly weren’t told to expect one, or we would’ve made sure we were here waiting.  We already had the sofa in by that stage and the new flat was close enough that I was able to pick up on the network in the old flat while it was up and running, so it wouldn’t have been too much trouble to sit in there.  Or, you know, reading a book or something slightly less internet-obsessed.

I was then told it was because they didn’t have a mobile number on record to contact us on.  This is hardly our fault, why should we be giving out personal phone numbers?  If we can’t trust them to arrange moving our account a few feet down the road, how can I trust them not to sell my mobile number to every cold-call company going?

I pointed out that we’d already installed the boxes as far as they needed to be installed, that the wiring had been arranged by the landlady in advance of us moving in, they’d had that visit already, and we’d only needed to plug the box into the existing wiring.

Still, he insisted that we needed an installation visit.  This is getting pretty offensive by now, especially when he keeps insisting that it will all be sorted out on Wednesday.

We’ve already taken a week off work, at an incredibly inconvenient time for both of us in fact, for the move.  We’re both due back at work on Wednesday, and neither of us can just call up and say “oh, sorry boss, won’t be in after all, got to wait for a Virgin man to turn up, say “look, it’s already installed” and call in to say they can flick the switch on our account“.  So I said, no, it will not be sorted on Wednesday.  Whenever it is that it’s going to be sorted, it will not be Wednesday.

Eventually I asked to speak to his customer services manager.  I’m fairly certain that this was just a colleague, but whatever, she seemed to understand the situation a little better.

I pointed out to her that we had the internet working yesterday, no problem at all, and that it seemed to have been disabled overnight, which would require an active decision on someone’s part.  I pointed out that we had the boxes installed and set up and that we had the TV on and were in the Virgin Media menus, but that they were only giving access to terrestrial channels, and we did not need installation, we just needed the account to be switched on.

She put me on hold and disappeared for 5 minutes.  I should point out I’d moaned about calling on my mobile pretty early on and they had called me back so I wasn’t paying any more at this stage.

Eventually she came back and said there was nothing she would do, it would have to be dealt with by a separate department, the department that handles people moving house.

Can I speak to them, then?

They’re shut on Sundays.

At this point I went a bit Hulk and, I’m pretty sure, was horrible to everyone within fifteen feet of me.

I cannot abide bad customer service.  Incompetence to the degree where everything is working and then taken back by some jobsworth who thinks we aren’t qualified to put a plug into a socket, when he himself is not qualified to stray from his little lever arch script, drives me completely apoplectic.

If this doesn’t get sorted out tomorrow, I will be coming up with some very strongly-worded letters, and possibly some sort of petition.

Diabetic moment of the day

None, but I did find own-brand dolly mixtures in our local mini-supermarket, 3 for  £1, so that’s my next hypo taken care of