Archive for the weather Category

Episode 120. In which I am a terrible blogger.

Posted in diabetes, Henry, home, inanimate objects, people, Uncategorized, weather on September 8, 2011 by diabetses

Forgive me, reader, for I have sinned. It’s been about nine months since my last blog post. A lot has happened in that time.

Let me just cut you off at the pass here and reassure you that babies do not feature in those 9 months. At all. Complete lack of babies. No babies here.

So let me try and bring you up to date, month by month. I apologise if I forget anything, but do keep in mind, I’m not a very good person.

December 2010. *stares at screen for ten minutes* Well this is a good start. What the hell did I do in December? Oh, I know what I did. I went to bed on Christmas Eve happy, and woke up on Christmas Day with a big ugly burn on my arm. I slept on my hot water bottle, you see. Which burned my arm so I had a big blister. Mister had to go out and borrow a bandage from the first aid kit at the pub. This led to my new years resolution, on which more will follow.

January 2011. I started a new blog, called Clumsy Diabetic. Basically I am cataloguing all my self-inflicted injuries, and counting my new scars. If I get five new scars this year, I will, get a tattoo. *spoiler alert: I have more than five new scars already.*

February 2011. I got a manicure. I know this is lame. But I did. Mister went away for a week and while he was gone I just pottered around, as one does, and then I went out and got a manicure. I went to Lanes Health and Beauty, and had a nice relaxing half an hour. It was pretty.

March 2011. We moved house! From a flat, into a house, actually. With a garden. I know! It’s lovely.

April 2011. I don’t remember what happened then. Presumably we unpacked and got settled into the new house, the new commute and all that.

May 2011. May kind of sucked, and kind of didn’t, but I mostly want to cry when I think about it.  Our awesome cat, Henry, loved by everyone who met him, the cat most like a person that I will ever meet, I am sure, got sick very quickly and died. It was devastating, I was broken, and it hurt. It still hurts. I feel like I let him down, like it’s my fault, like if only I could hold him it would all be ok again. But he’s gone, and it’s shit. After a while, because the house felt so empty, we went to the RSPCA to start the process of adopting another cat, and happened to fall in love with two, a brother and sister, who we somehow managed to adopt really quickly. We named them Margot and Jerry, collectively known as The Leadbetters.

June 2011. I had my birthday! Happy birthday, me, you’re 32 now. I had a lovely, lovely day in the Northern Lights Scandinavian bar in Brighton, where they gave me a free shot of some liqueur that smelled very strongly of Fisherman’s Friend. It took me all afternoon to drink it, including watering it down as much as possible, and I still handed the glass back with more in the dregs than there would have been had it been, say strawberry cheesecake flavoured liqueur.

July 2011. Well, July was good. In July I was unemployed for a week, after my contract ended at my job, then I got another job, at the same place, and was employed again. Permanent contract this time, which is reassuring. And then, at the end of the month, I met Caitlin Moran. I went to an event for her book, which is brilliant in case you didn’t know already, and waited afterwards to get her to sign my copy. Which she did, very graciously. And she recognised my name from Twitter. And I totally spazzed out, because I love her work and her book and her sense of humour, and even just my name taking up a micron of her brainspace is amazing.

August 2011. August was my man’s 40th birthday month. I got him presents he had asked for, and we had a kind of dinner party, where I cooked a bunch of tapas type stuff that turned out quite nicely. Later in the month my mum visited, which was brilliant, and I made her a roast dinner, all by myself. And even later in the month, I got a Touchpad. It was a late birthday present from mister, he really is far too good for me. 🙂

September 2011. And here we are. So far, the rest of the year is planned out as a bunch of brilliant things. In a couple of weeks my sister comes to stay for a week. In early October I have to go to a conference in London which means I get to spend an evening with my best friend. And then at the end of October she is coming to stay for a weekend. In November my best friend from high school might be down here from scotland for a conference, and I will get to hang out with her, which would be cool beyond words. And then at Christmas, mister and I are going to Scotland. The flights are booked and everything, we’ll be up there for nine days in total. Mister has never been to my hometown, and I’m hoping to show him a proper white Christmas (one of the ones where you couldn’t leave the house even if you wanted to) and I can’t wait to show him where I grew up.

However, I will try to blog more.

Try.

I promise to try.

Diabetic moment of the day

So far ok, I think. Oh, I left the house without my insulin kit this morning and only realised when I was at the bus stop so I had to come all the way home for it. I am a twat. This isn’t news.

Episode 108. In which we do a little bit of gardening.

Posted in food, home, weather with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2009 by diabetses

Our new flat has a little bit of a garden out front, so we’re growing vegetables in it.  This is quite exciting so My Man has also bought a potato planter bin thing (god knows what it’s actually called), and I’m pretty sure he wants a wormery for his birthday.  This inference I got from his subtle discussion of where he’s going to put his wormery.  Which, granted, he might be willing to buy for himself, but we’re both really rubbish people to buy presents for so I hijacked this and demanded that I be allowed to get it for his birthday.  Now all that remains to be seen is whether he can wait til then.

It was nice and sunny today, a little bit nippy but pleasant, not like the rest of the week, which has been sneaky with all the rain.  So we were both out in the garden, digging a trench to plant some tatties, and then I took some pictures.  Not very good pictures, you understand, I’m just not a natural photographer, but green things are pretty.

Other than that I haven’t done too much really, just a ridiculous amount of washing up.  I was so proud of how clean the kitchen was yesterday, then I made the chilli for last night’s dinner, and by the time we’d eaten and everything somehow most of our crockery needed washed up again.  It’s alright though, I hate washing up cutlery and mugs and classes, they’re just annoying, but plates and bowls and saucepans and things, nice big straightforward things, they’re OK.  And if you make the water hot enough, they evaporate dry really quickly.

My only other achievement of today was that I watched a ridiculous amount of Supernatural on my laptop.  We had a friend round last night so that he and My Man could watch the Grand Prix this morning.  I don’t like F1 because I find it boring and it takes ages and it means I can’t watch the telly.  But now I’ve got a couple of Supernatural box sets I don’t care, I can stay in bed and watch what I want.  This morning was a cheat, of course, because it was the Australian GP and it was over before I even woke up, but still.  For future reference, there’s nothing else on telly on a Sunday anyway, so as long as I’ve got DVDs and my laptop, I’ll survive.

Diabetic moment of the day

Today we watched Heston Blumenthal’s Roman Feast, which included an ejaculating cake.  It was a chocolate cake, ejaculating saffron custard.  Oh My God did I want to eat that cake.  It is depressing to know that even if Heston Blumenthal cooked for me, I couldn’t eat that cake.  Boo.

Episode 107. In which yo no soy española.

Posted in food, home, inanimate objects, weather with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2009 by diabetses

Today I have achieved a lot, I think.  I don’t feel massively exhausted by it, which is a risk when you do a lot after a hard week.

I am sitting in my living room, which is clearer since I finished a lot of unpacking, looks nicer since I sorted out the stuff that had been dumped on top of the DVD unit and the DVDs themselves, and is nice and lightbecause it’s a bright evening, in spite of the rain.  I can smell the chilli con carne I made from scratch, which has been simmering away in the slow cooker for the last four hours, ensuring it’ll be well and truly infused by the time we eat in another hour or two.  If I can wait that long.  I am just home from a refreshing stroll through the drizzle to the shops, where I bought the finishing touches for dinner (rice and freshly baked pitta bread), and so much San Miguel that the guy in the off licence asked if I was Spanish.
Yo no soy española.

Diabetic moment of the day

I haven’t had one today.  Which makes me suspicious.

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Episode 101. In which I fail to find a handbag.

Posted in food, shopping, TV, weather on March 22, 2009 by diabetses

I want a new handbag.  I have a lot of bags but I want one that’s more grown-up, that’s big enough to hold all my stuff (purse, book, insulin kit etc) but not big enough to be considered comically oversized.  I saw one in Monsoon that was quite nice but I didn’t buy it, it wasn’t in the sale.  And now I need to find something similar but affordable.

Today I looked in a few places but didn’t see anything that came close.  I saw a bag I really liked but then realised it fell under the comically oversized category.  I have a business lunch later this week so I might have a look around the shops near work on Monday.

I did have a really pleasant walk around today with My Man, the sun was shining and although it was a bit nippy it was lovely to be out.  I stayed in bed for a long time this morning, just for the sake of being lazy, I watched loads of Supernatural on my laptop.

Diabetic moment of the day

Not that I can think of.  I really want a bowl of ice cream though.

Episode 53. In which snow and the south of England do not mix.

Posted in people, TV, weather with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 2, 2009 by diabetses

How do snow and the south of England not mix?

Let me count the ways.

  1. Southerners can’t drive in snow.  This isn’t a criticism, driving in snow is evil, I don’t drive so I can’t claim that I’m any better.  But let’s face it, most don’t have the experience that you need to handle snowy and icy roads.  It’s to be expected really, snow being so rare down here.  This morning I saw a car crash, where a car driving down a slight incline had to stop at a red light  – the car slid sideways before it stopped, and the one behind it carried on sliding before it stopped, and of course they collided.  It was just a little prang, but on the other side of the road a bus was stuck with its wheels spinning, and the best it could hope for was to not slide backwards down the hill all the way to the Old Steine.  Later in the day, I saw no less than four cars bombing it up Lewes Road, revving the engine and going as fast as their stumpy little feet would take them.  Each and every one deserved to end up head-first in a gutter for that kind of idiocy.
  2. Where I’m from, growing up we were snowed in for at least a week, every single year.  We played in snow as children and we learned what was done and what was not done.  It seems to me like the local children down here have never had any such education.  Again, it’s just about experience.  But I watched a group of teenagers picking up chunks of “snow” (and I use inverted commas because we’re talking lumps that took both hands and all their strength to carry, and were therefore more ice than snow), hiding behind a wall and throwing it at random passers-by.  In the face.  Now, I understand that sometimes people get carried away with snowball fights, and an innocent might get dragged in, and that’s not cool, but it’s usually accidental, and it happens.  What I saw was assault, and for that reason I walked home from town on the wrong side of the road, just so as to have two lanes of traffic between me and the nearest snowball fight.  Partly because although hitting a stranger in the face with a block of ice is probably assault, punching a child full in the face for doing so is somewhat of a darker shade of grey.
  3. The transport infrastructure just can’t handle it.  In London all the buses were suspended for a while, and then when they came back the numbers were severely reduced.  I happened to catch some of an interview between some news channel and the head of Transport for London, or spokesperson, or whoever he was.  He explained, while a video of bus drivers having a snowball fight was shown, that London has 7000 buses, of which 750 were functioning as best they could.  He mentioned that the roads were very dangerous, particularly smaller side roads, that they were very icy and treacherous.  The news anchor doing the interview immediately attacked him for having bus drivers out there having snowball fights while there were people in London that couldn’t get to work.  I had to ask myself whether she’d actually listened to a word he’d said.  By no means would I call the reaction of Transport for London paranoid or anywhere close, there was a clear awareness of the limitations of their services and they did what they could with what they had.  If that idiot news anchor wants 7000 buses out there, I would suggest she personally drives however many thousands of miles of roads there are in London with her own personal gritter in advance of the next snowstorm, and then take personal responsibility for the 2000 road traffic accidents that arise from 7000 drivers with no snow-driving experience being forced to ferry people around all day in weather that would, I’d expect, cause most potential bus travellers to thank whoever they happen to worship for the lack of buses, so they can stay at home where it’s warm and safe.
  4. Apparently, it’s the end of the world.  Shops are closed, open late, shut early, all in all it’s a huge mess.  I admit, I worked from home today, but that’s because my trains weren’t running.  I did some laundry and then went to the laundrette to use their tumble dryers, as I always do.  Only when I got there, it was shut.  I’m not negating the importance of laundrette staff, but what is the likelihood that they don’t live within walking distance of their workplace?  I mean, given the cost of a bus fare, even, these days.  I walked into town twice today, that’s a good four miles, and both of those journeys were a complete waste of time.  My Man walked all the way to Hove and back.  If I worked within four miles of home, I’d definitely walk there.  I lived in Whitechapel on July 7th 2005, and I walked to and from Holborn every day that week.  So either we have a commuter-run laundrette, or someone was just too damned lazy and snow-verexcited to do their job.  Which pisses me off quite a lot, given that half my clothes are sitting there, wet, because we’ve got nowhere to hang them up to dry, or else we wouldn’t need to use the laundrette tumble dryers.

Diabetic moment of the day

This morning I had jam on my toast.  Just as a treat.  It was nice.  Fortnum & Mason raspberry jam, I’d heartily recommend it.

Episode 52. In which it’s snowing.

Posted in diabetes, Henry, weather with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 1, 2009 by diabetses

That’s right, it’s snowing.  The flakes are varying in size every few minutes, it started off quite small but respectable, then pretty huge (an inch across, maybe), and now it’s gone down to tiny little dandruff flakes.  It’s very disappointing, but better than nothing.  I’m a Highlander transplanted to the South Coast, I need snow from time to time to keep me sane, and it’s snowed a few times since I moved down here – I wouldn’t be surprised if it had snowed more in Brighton in the past year and a bit than it had in any comparable time period during my lifetime.  Of course, all the snow Brighton’s had in the last century probably wouldn’t add up to one of the snow days I got used to growing up.

Walking home from the pub last night there was frost on the cars, so I’m hoping that if it continues to snow through the night, there’ll be more of a chance of it lying.  However, I do have some limitations on what I’m hoping for.  I wouldn’t be devastated if the trains stopped running, let’s face it none of us would complain about a genuine reason to stay home on a schoolday – and I’m perfectly happy to work from home in that case.  However, with my luck everything will be fine until I get to… probably somewhere between Gatwick and Croydon, that’s the longest distance between stations on my commute.  So my train will get that far and at that point the rails will get all upset about the snow.  Just in case, you can bet that tomorrow I won’t be leaving the house without at least ten thousand calories in my rucksack.  Just in case.

Ooh, big flakes again.  It’s still not lying, but it’s the thought that counts.

And now I’m going to read yesterday’s papers.  I read the papers every day except Sunday, for work.  I mean, I read every day’s papers, except I don’t read Sunday’s papers.  From this, I have discovered two surprising things.  Number one is that I hate almost everything about the Guardian, up to and including how much it smells.  The exception is Charlie Brooker.  Number two is that I actually quite enjoy the FT.

Also, I’m not talking to Henry today.  He was lovely this morning, and I gave him a little bit of the fat off my bacon.  For this he repays me by jumping up onto the table to eat the rasher My Man couldn’t finish, right off his plate.  He’s not allowed on the table, and he shouldn’t be eating off plates, so I’m not talking to him.  And he’s not allowed to curl up in my lap as he likes to do.  I’d take away his TV privileges too but I’m watching Sea of Souls, which isn’t spectacular viewing but I like it, and it used to be filmed (before they started taking it around Britain) in a building at the University of Strathclyde, where I got my MSc.  And short of locking him out in the snow, which would be a bit tight (and is still going strong, by the way) I can’t stop him from watching it.

Diabetic moment of the day.

Today’s diabetic moment started yesterday.  I tested my blood sugar in the pub when it was time for my ‘bedtime’ injection (which is actually at a specific time every day, that time being bedtime most days, but some days it’s just when the party’s getting started, and which you can see here (N.B. this picture is for comedy value, I can do better if I really really try)).  It was 4.1, which is lower than it should be, but I had no symptoms so I left it for an hour and when I tested it again it was 5.3, so either some stupid barman slipped me full-sugar coke instead of diet, or my body is now regulating its own sugar as well as its own insulin production, but only doing either when it feels like it.

Anyway, we went to the kebab shop on the way home and I got a big fat burger with chips.  I should’ve taken some of my mealtime insulin but I forgot.  Fast forward to this morning and I checked my blood sugar when I woke up, having remembered my oversight – it was 5.0.  Spot on perfect, what everyone (diabetic and non-diabetic) should read before a meal.  All in all, it’s confusing, but handy, and if my body wants to be diabetic most of the time I’m happy to keep up the injections, so long as if I forget every now and then, my pancreas picks up the slack.  That sounds fair.

Incidentally, no word from my diabetes nurse about the Exeter study, but I think the above should count for something.  Also, if I do have some new type of diabetes, it has been suggested to me that I insist (and have it written into any medical disclaimer or legal contract I might sign) that it be referred to in the future as ‘Diabetses”.  Oh, for any strangers reading this, the joke is that my name is Betsy.  Betsy.  Diabetes.  Diabetses.  Just imagine if one day this nonsense is the oldest online record of a proper medical condition.

That’s intense.