YAY! It's official - I'm barking.
Checkout my little widget gadget wotsit top right hand corner! I've signed up to do a parachute jump in May in aid of Beating Bowel Cancer. If you've got any spare cash after Comic Relief then I'll happily relieve you of it.
Things are definitely improving due to a combination of things. Partly it's the weather, the lighter evenings and SAD affecting me less, mostly it's anniversaries and festivities out of the way which, I'm sorry, just do NOTHING for my seratonin levels. I also had to have "a few stern words" with myself on more than one occasion and finally I think I listened. So did friends, luckily and even better I've been out and about partaking of the odd medicinal bottle, I mean glass of wine.
There's a very very nice man about at the moment who I'm hoping will stay around because he's also making me rather happy at the moment (keep your fingers crossed for me please).
I'm making more effort at the gym again after the rib incident and although I still get odd twinges I'm determined to get stronger and fitter (and hotter :o))
Work is getting even busier and I'm involved in a lot more projects just like before I was off sick but now wondering how I'm supposed to fit it all in, in 25 hours a week.
I hope everyone is making the most of the sunny days we've had lately
Lisa
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Thursday, 26 February 2009
2009 February 26th - Tum te Tum
Well, it's been fairly quiet this year so far, I had a week of ibuprofen and eventually my ribs aren't really causing me any bother. I actually still have differences on my left side but have decided not to worry about it.
It's just about a year now since I was in hospital wondering if I was going to die! Weird. I saw my surgeon a couple of weeks ago again and we had quite a good chat. We went over what's been happening over the last 2 1/2 years including me being "very frightened and worried" after the reversal surgery didn't go to plan. "So was I, so was I" he reminded me. He was in every day to see me - including Saturdays (twice) and Sundays, trying to find out what was going on and why I was so ill. It was a grim 10 days. It was made so much worse by withdrawl from my drugs and losing my son - it's nearly a year since I last saw him and spoke to him.
I've done a fair bit decorating the front room now - waiting for Paul to put up new coving so I can replace the curtain rail (need to see where coving comes to before changing) and finish painting and there's the floor to fit (have another male friend who has kindly been bribed into helping with that - it's all bought and delivered) and then paper the ceiling and change the light fittings (also already bought).
It's looking a BIT more like MY home and not just a house I live in while I'm waiting to move somewhere else.
Taking pride of place is the secondhand cross trainer I bought off ebay for £25 because I am soooo fed up with this extra stone + I'm carrying around (and the lumpy belly thanks to weird scarring which is just odd). If I'd not had a few weeks off the gym because of the stupid rib pain it might have helped, but no point dwelling on "what ifs" - I've been rationing my calorie intake to between 1260 and 1500 calories a day plus exercise as much as my tiredness and work allows (and after Ben's LBT class on Tuesday pain levels). I've managed to lose 4 lbs in nearly two months which is actually not that bad I suppose.........but I've not lost any more in three weeks and it's really getting on my nerves! I just did another 20 mins on the cross trainer for the end of the Master Chef final - I find exercising stops me wanting to gorge myself stupid watching all that scrummy food on the TV!
I've been generally pretty down this last three months having lost ANOTHER friend (I have had three friends just drift away because I had cancer which just proves how much they really cared in the first place) and now my "best friend" who to be honest I'm not that upset about any more because she had spent the last year or two moaning at me about her troubles and then refusing to speak to me any time it looked like I'd met a bloke (and emailing me from the same office to tell me how jealous she was that I went on two dates with someone who I never even saw again anyway). I know I probably wasn't as supportive as she needed me to be - but I had the rib thing going on and she neither noticed nor gave me the opportunity to mention it - we just weren't there for each other any more. Bit like getting divorced really :o(
Still, I'm not going to allow myself to use being tired as an excuse for not seeing people this year - I'm going out tomorrow night and I've got a friend staying next weekend, then two weeks after that a 40th party weekend. I need to start putting friends names in my diary so I can make sure I see them - it's really easy to get out of the habit when you spend your life in and out of hospital (physio took up a fair bit of time last year too).
Also I should mention Karys did exceptionally well in her mock exams (exceptional because of me being ill for a huge chunk of her exam coursework years) and is set to get As and Bs and Cs and generally has done really well. I'm very proud of her.
Maybe I can actually turn things around this year?
It's just about a year now since I was in hospital wondering if I was going to die! Weird. I saw my surgeon a couple of weeks ago again and we had quite a good chat. We went over what's been happening over the last 2 1/2 years including me being "very frightened and worried" after the reversal surgery didn't go to plan. "So was I, so was I" he reminded me. He was in every day to see me - including Saturdays (twice) and Sundays, trying to find out what was going on and why I was so ill. It was a grim 10 days. It was made so much worse by withdrawl from my drugs and losing my son - it's nearly a year since I last saw him and spoke to him.
I've done a fair bit decorating the front room now - waiting for Paul to put up new coving so I can replace the curtain rail (need to see where coving comes to before changing) and finish painting and there's the floor to fit (have another male friend who has kindly been bribed into helping with that - it's all bought and delivered) and then paper the ceiling and change the light fittings (also already bought).
It's looking a BIT more like MY home and not just a house I live in while I'm waiting to move somewhere else.
Taking pride of place is the secondhand cross trainer I bought off ebay for £25 because I am soooo fed up with this extra stone + I'm carrying around (and the lumpy belly thanks to weird scarring which is just odd). If I'd not had a few weeks off the gym because of the stupid rib pain it might have helped, but no point dwelling on "what ifs" - I've been rationing my calorie intake to between 1260 and 1500 calories a day plus exercise as much as my tiredness and work allows (and after Ben's LBT class on Tuesday pain levels). I've managed to lose 4 lbs in nearly two months which is actually not that bad I suppose.........but I've not lost any more in three weeks and it's really getting on my nerves! I just did another 20 mins on the cross trainer for the end of the Master Chef final - I find exercising stops me wanting to gorge myself stupid watching all that scrummy food on the TV!
I've been generally pretty down this last three months having lost ANOTHER friend (I have had three friends just drift away because I had cancer which just proves how much they really cared in the first place) and now my "best friend" who to be honest I'm not that upset about any more because she had spent the last year or two moaning at me about her troubles and then refusing to speak to me any time it looked like I'd met a bloke (and emailing me from the same office to tell me how jealous she was that I went on two dates with someone who I never even saw again anyway). I know I probably wasn't as supportive as she needed me to be - but I had the rib thing going on and she neither noticed nor gave me the opportunity to mention it - we just weren't there for each other any more. Bit like getting divorced really :o(
Still, I'm not going to allow myself to use being tired as an excuse for not seeing people this year - I'm going out tomorrow night and I've got a friend staying next weekend, then two weeks after that a 40th party weekend. I need to start putting friends names in my diary so I can make sure I see them - it's really easy to get out of the habit when you spend your life in and out of hospital (physio took up a fair bit of time last year too).
Also I should mention Karys did exceptionally well in her mock exams (exceptional because of me being ill for a huge chunk of her exam coursework years) and is set to get As and Bs and Cs and generally has done really well. I'm very proud of her.
Maybe I can actually turn things around this year?
Monday, 2 February 2009
2009 February 2nd - Bone Scan Results - Clear!
Well, to cut a long story short, the bone scan was clear.
Funny, how three whole months of pain, worry and hiding my true fears and feelings from pretty much THE WORLD can be erased with the simple words "the bone scan was clear".
Over Christmas I came to terms with the fact that I've been married, had and lost children, got divorced. I've travelled, I've dabbled in things I shouldn't. I thought, yeah, I'm ready for it I don't think there's that much to look forward to any more, all the attempts at dragging myself out of clinical depression without drugs - I won't have to bother any more. If it's cancer in my bones I'll have that to take my mind off everything.
My son still refuses to have anything to do with me after almost a year and I can't help thinking my daughter won't really miss me either. It would be a right royal pain since she's nowhere else to live and I didn't really want to mess up her last year of school with a Stage 4 diagnosis.
Happy days.
New Year I was planning how I could get the whole house decorated before I was incapacitated again, so that I could get a decent price when I had to sell it.
I'd rewritten my will in my head.
Of course that's all academic now, because - the scan was clear.
The swelling is still there. What is it? The oncologist thinks I injured myself somehow and the cartilage at the end of the rib is inflamed. I'm taking ibuprofen for a week now to see if that makes it go away, or I can go back to see onco and they'll ask radiology about doing bigger x-rays or different scans.
I'm taking the NSAIDs - but I don't think I'll go back. If it was anything nasty I reckon it would have shown up on the chest x-ray, even if it's not in any bone.
So now I have to get on with life again, but it's a bit chuffing difficult when I don't know where to start? Every time I start again I get some kind of cancer scare, or some other crisis that knocks me off track and rekindles old traumas.
I just feel like there are so many others who deserve what I appear to have (remission for 19 months and counting) and I don't know what to do with it now I have it. I've spent over two years living and breathing cancer and now it's gone I don't know what to do, I don't feel like I have a purpose. I'm not really much of a mother any more, I enjoy being at work much more than I enjoy being at home. I'm hoping the inspiration for a "rest of my life plan" will arrive at some point very soon.
Funny, how three whole months of pain, worry and hiding my true fears and feelings from pretty much THE WORLD can be erased with the simple words "the bone scan was clear".
Over Christmas I came to terms with the fact that I've been married, had and lost children, got divorced. I've travelled, I've dabbled in things I shouldn't. I thought, yeah, I'm ready for it I don't think there's that much to look forward to any more, all the attempts at dragging myself out of clinical depression without drugs - I won't have to bother any more. If it's cancer in my bones I'll have that to take my mind off everything.
My son still refuses to have anything to do with me after almost a year and I can't help thinking my daughter won't really miss me either. It would be a right royal pain since she's nowhere else to live and I didn't really want to mess up her last year of school with a Stage 4 diagnosis.
Happy days.
New Year I was planning how I could get the whole house decorated before I was incapacitated again, so that I could get a decent price when I had to sell it.
I'd rewritten my will in my head.
Of course that's all academic now, because - the scan was clear.
The swelling is still there. What is it? The oncologist thinks I injured myself somehow and the cartilage at the end of the rib is inflamed. I'm taking ibuprofen for a week now to see if that makes it go away, or I can go back to see onco and they'll ask radiology about doing bigger x-rays or different scans.
I'm taking the NSAIDs - but I don't think I'll go back. If it was anything nasty I reckon it would have shown up on the chest x-ray, even if it's not in any bone.
So now I have to get on with life again, but it's a bit chuffing difficult when I don't know where to start? Every time I start again I get some kind of cancer scare, or some other crisis that knocks me off track and rekindles old traumas.
I just feel like there are so many others who deserve what I appear to have (remission for 19 months and counting) and I don't know what to do with it now I have it. I've spent over two years living and breathing cancer and now it's gone I don't know what to do, I don't feel like I have a purpose. I'm not really much of a mother any more, I enjoy being at work much more than I enjoy being at home. I'm hoping the inspiration for a "rest of my life plan" will arrive at some point very soon.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
2009 January 21st - Going Nuclear
I've been thinking about getting back to this blog for a while now, but deep down I think I associate it with being ill. Sitting on the sofa with a blanket, laptop on my knee with just the cat for company.
Back in November 2008 I started to get a sore pain around one of my left ribs, which wasn't helped by it being under my bra underwiring. It was annoying and there all the time and got worse after being away from the gym for four weeks (due to tummy bug and two other viruses) when I had 10 minutes on the cross trainer. By the time it got to 6 weeks, which is the time it should take for any muscular damage to heal, though I have no recollection of anything that could have caused injury and it started weeks before I got to sneezing with colds and flu, I made an appointment at the surgery. By this time I was in sharp pain every time I inhaled and deep breaths made my eyes water. Unfortunately the only option was to see the first GP who I saw about my illness which turned out to be stage 3 rectal cancer, it wasn't my first option, but she had at least requested some tests, though recorded my blood loss as spotting - it wasn't spotting!
As seems to be typical for me I had to wait over Christmas for the results to come back for any confirmation of a broken rib and leaking calcium in my blood (x-ray and blood tests). They came back normal.
The pain was getting better by this time, possibly aided by my expanding my rib cage a lot while I finished stripping paint and paper off the ceiling and walls and eventually got to painting. What hadn't improved was the growth around the rib - it's like the rib has doubled in thickness and is now more prominent than any others. I made an appointment at the oncology clinic, having tried in vain to make an appointment at the surgery - usual story, nothing to pre-book so you have to ring up at 8.30 every morning and try and snaffle an emergency appointment.
The Lone Ranger (my onco) was on holiday for the first week of January so I saw him on the 15th. He'd been storming his way through the clinic and I barely sat down when I was called through EARLY! The nurse on that day was the same nurse who used to work in endoscopy and was the first person to comfort me on finding out I had cancer in December 2006. I can still bring to mind a mental picture after the surgeon left us, in a darkened, otherwise abandoned ward - it being after 5.30. That's the moment my life changed and she was there so I feel a special bond.
I was in pretty good spirits considering, I'd managed to wait 6 weeks before checking it out, knowing that's what I'd have to do if I sought medical advice any earlier. I wasn't convinced it was cancer and knew how rare spread straight to the bones is. I just couldn't find any other explanation for a growing rib at my age with or without cancer history. I fully expected him to ask me some questions and then say there is really no chance of it being a tumour with my symptoms. Until the day before I thought about cancelling the appointmen, not wanting to be a time waster! That is until I was drying my hair after 20 minutes on the cross trainer when I got a really breathtaking sharp pain in exactly the same place. It didn't last too long but was a bit sore afterwards. He felt the rib and it is a bit tender still when pressed and I can still feel something, thought not really pain on certain movements. He checked that the pain was always in the same place - yes. Then he said we'll check it out with a bone scan. GULP.
Over Christmas while I was waiting for the test results to come back I spoke online with a breast cancer patient with multiple metastases in her bones, including her left rib in a similar spot to mine. She said that her tumours were not picked up on blood tests or x-rays - only on a bone scan. Even after they had been identified and she is having treatment for them they still don't show up on x-ray. At this point I was thinking I might have to demand a bone scan as the pain was still quite bad. As it wore off, I decided it must have been muscular but just taken longer to heal.......onco said there's no reason for me to take longer to recover now, this far out of surgery and chemo. Oh. OK. I'm not sleeping marvellously, unsurprisingly and I have been very tired for the last three months, which I told him I think must be down to viruses and just the fact that it's winter.
So I'll be back to Pilgrim on Friday at 11.30 for my nuclear injection and then a three hour wait (and hopefully something good from the hospital canteen for lunch) before my scan at 14.30. I'll see the Lone Ranger again the following Thursday at clinic.
Since then I've been researching spread to bones from colorectal cancers and have come up with the following from research papers:
Bone metastases are more common than previously thought.
The average age of patients with bone mets is lower than that in patients without.
Cancers of rectum and cecum are more often accompanied by bone mets than other parts of the colon.
Bone mets alone with colorectal cancers are very rare.
So that's not terribly helpful - it means it's bloody hard to find anyone to talk to who might be in the same position.
More frustrating is that I can find nothing about having an enlarged rib, where it's actually the bone that gets bigger that is not some sort of tumour malignant OR benign. If it was a soft tissue growth then I can find allsorts of stuff, like cysts or infections. The skin isn't red or inflamed.
I just don't FEEL like it's cancer, which I was sure I would if it showed up again. But then I think back over all the months of various aches and pains which I resolutely ignored and excused as recovery from chemotherapy and remaining side effects of radiation. I've had a lower back pain again over recent months which was where it all started, I put it down to the car crash back in 1992 but it turned out Tyson was just causing pressure, the pain went with radiation. It's not as bad now by any means, but is it an old injury exascerbated by radiation and chemo and age or more tumours? The aching and sharp pains in my hips, knees, ankles, elbows and wrists - are they down to the chemo still, the radiation, tennis elbow from painting? Ankle and wrist from the fall I had back in August? They should have healed by now but I don't want to spend my time at the GPs checking out the multitude of niggling things I have - I'd never be at work or at home or getting on with my new life.
The bone scan, which I assume will be a full body one will at least answer all of those questions for me. Then hopefully, I can get back on with things! Or start an entirely new chapter of my life. I keep pushing those thoughts away because there's just no point trying to plan around a recurrence until you have the facts. I've done a pretty good job of keeping hysteria away from my mind and I'm not about to let it take over now. Well, I do a little bit in bed, in the dark, alone. Who wouldn't?
Back in November 2008 I started to get a sore pain around one of my left ribs, which wasn't helped by it being under my bra underwiring. It was annoying and there all the time and got worse after being away from the gym for four weeks (due to tummy bug and two other viruses) when I had 10 minutes on the cross trainer. By the time it got to 6 weeks, which is the time it should take for any muscular damage to heal, though I have no recollection of anything that could have caused injury and it started weeks before I got to sneezing with colds and flu, I made an appointment at the surgery. By this time I was in sharp pain every time I inhaled and deep breaths made my eyes water. Unfortunately the only option was to see the first GP who I saw about my illness which turned out to be stage 3 rectal cancer, it wasn't my first option, but she had at least requested some tests, though recorded my blood loss as spotting - it wasn't spotting!
As seems to be typical for me I had to wait over Christmas for the results to come back for any confirmation of a broken rib and leaking calcium in my blood (x-ray and blood tests). They came back normal.
The pain was getting better by this time, possibly aided by my expanding my rib cage a lot while I finished stripping paint and paper off the ceiling and walls and eventually got to painting. What hadn't improved was the growth around the rib - it's like the rib has doubled in thickness and is now more prominent than any others. I made an appointment at the oncology clinic, having tried in vain to make an appointment at the surgery - usual story, nothing to pre-book so you have to ring up at 8.30 every morning and try and snaffle an emergency appointment.
The Lone Ranger (my onco) was on holiday for the first week of January so I saw him on the 15th. He'd been storming his way through the clinic and I barely sat down when I was called through EARLY! The nurse on that day was the same nurse who used to work in endoscopy and was the first person to comfort me on finding out I had cancer in December 2006. I can still bring to mind a mental picture after the surgeon left us, in a darkened, otherwise abandoned ward - it being after 5.30. That's the moment my life changed and she was there so I feel a special bond.
I was in pretty good spirits considering, I'd managed to wait 6 weeks before checking it out, knowing that's what I'd have to do if I sought medical advice any earlier. I wasn't convinced it was cancer and knew how rare spread straight to the bones is. I just couldn't find any other explanation for a growing rib at my age with or without cancer history. I fully expected him to ask me some questions and then say there is really no chance of it being a tumour with my symptoms. Until the day before I thought about cancelling the appointmen, not wanting to be a time waster! That is until I was drying my hair after 20 minutes on the cross trainer when I got a really breathtaking sharp pain in exactly the same place. It didn't last too long but was a bit sore afterwards. He felt the rib and it is a bit tender still when pressed and I can still feel something, thought not really pain on certain movements. He checked that the pain was always in the same place - yes. Then he said we'll check it out with a bone scan. GULP.
Over Christmas while I was waiting for the test results to come back I spoke online with a breast cancer patient with multiple metastases in her bones, including her left rib in a similar spot to mine. She said that her tumours were not picked up on blood tests or x-rays - only on a bone scan. Even after they had been identified and she is having treatment for them they still don't show up on x-ray. At this point I was thinking I might have to demand a bone scan as the pain was still quite bad. As it wore off, I decided it must have been muscular but just taken longer to heal.......onco said there's no reason for me to take longer to recover now, this far out of surgery and chemo. Oh. OK. I'm not sleeping marvellously, unsurprisingly and I have been very tired for the last three months, which I told him I think must be down to viruses and just the fact that it's winter.
So I'll be back to Pilgrim on Friday at 11.30 for my nuclear injection and then a three hour wait (and hopefully something good from the hospital canteen for lunch) before my scan at 14.30. I'll see the Lone Ranger again the following Thursday at clinic.
Since then I've been researching spread to bones from colorectal cancers and have come up with the following from research papers:
Bone metastases are more common than previously thought.
The average age of patients with bone mets is lower than that in patients without.
Cancers of rectum and cecum are more often accompanied by bone mets than other parts of the colon.
Bone mets alone with colorectal cancers are very rare.
So that's not terribly helpful - it means it's bloody hard to find anyone to talk to who might be in the same position.
More frustrating is that I can find nothing about having an enlarged rib, where it's actually the bone that gets bigger that is not some sort of tumour malignant OR benign. If it was a soft tissue growth then I can find allsorts of stuff, like cysts or infections. The skin isn't red or inflamed.
I just don't FEEL like it's cancer, which I was sure I would if it showed up again. But then I think back over all the months of various aches and pains which I resolutely ignored and excused as recovery from chemotherapy and remaining side effects of radiation. I've had a lower back pain again over recent months which was where it all started, I put it down to the car crash back in 1992 but it turned out Tyson was just causing pressure, the pain went with radiation. It's not as bad now by any means, but is it an old injury exascerbated by radiation and chemo and age or more tumours? The aching and sharp pains in my hips, knees, ankles, elbows and wrists - are they down to the chemo still, the radiation, tennis elbow from painting? Ankle and wrist from the fall I had back in August? They should have healed by now but I don't want to spend my time at the GPs checking out the multitude of niggling things I have - I'd never be at work or at home or getting on with my new life.
The bone scan, which I assume will be a full body one will at least answer all of those questions for me. Then hopefully, I can get back on with things! Or start an entirely new chapter of my life. I keep pushing those thoughts away because there's just no point trying to plan around a recurrence until you have the facts. I've done a pretty good job of keeping hysteria away from my mind and I'm not about to let it take over now. Well, I do a little bit in bed, in the dark, alone. Who wouldn't?
Monday, 25 August 2008
2008 Aug 23rd - Are the Eyes Related to the Paranormal?
Saturday morning was bright and sunny, and despite a late night I had a good feeling about the weekend ahead. After making a packed lunch and picking up the birthday girl. We ate our lunch in a layby on the A1. Parking at Cockfosters as usual, we got off to a good start by finding a ticket seller with a REAL sense of humour. He was making it like a quiz showing asking us questions to get the right tickets, and then said "That'll be £148 please". I imagine the look on my face was worth him turning up for work that day. It was really £28 for the weekend all zones for us both.
After finding the hotel and dumping our bags, we hit Oxford Street. After finding a nice John Rocha top in Debenham's sale we went to Selfridges. Angela says that when Holly Golightly says that nothing bad could ever happen in (Breakfast at) Tiffany's, that sums up how she feels about Selfridges. Now I understand why! Basically, we got free make up and perfume and hair straightening just by walking through the store. I did actually buy some of the products but only stuff I already wanted. We had our eyebrows waxed and made up again too so all that was left was to get dressed for the evening and eat! Obviously we had to go to the Champagne bar for champagne and oysters and then to the food hall to buy olives and a selection of healthy stuff from RAW. We scoffed them back at the hotel, tweaked hair and make up slightly, washed London off our feet and got changed.
By the time we hit Covent Garden it was pushing 11pm! We'd had a quick drink in Tottenham Court road and then really struggled walking round the cobbles of the Garden looking for somewhere that was still serving. In search of a cashpoint we found Navajo Joe's where I was keen to revisit because the barstaff throw the cocktail shakers around properly and serve tasty snacks! Access DENIED. The doorman said they were closing, and even after debating that 11pm didn't sound like a "late bar" as the sign said he just didn't want us in there. We were getting desperate, the champagne buzz had worn off and it was looking like a very sensible night ahead for us. It wasn't looking good, since everywhere had queues outside and the thought of joining them in heels wasn't terribly appealing.
More cobble hobbling and we found a decent place, paid for drinks and miraculously found a seat. It didn't take long before we were joined by some rather boring but pleasant enough bloke who took a shine to Angela, said comedy things like "You both look very alike", "Have you been here before?" and mispronounced every place name that came up in conversation. When he, AT LAST went to the bar, girly chat took place and I started yawning when he came back, Angela went to the ladies and I got talking to four very nice, but VERY young lads all aged 19, rather than talk to our new "friend" who was from Persia (he doesn't like saying Iran). They confirmed that everywhere was about £15 to get in, but at their tender age, having been ID'd on the door, couldn't recommend anywhere in particular. Angela tried to ditch the Persian by saying I was tired (remember my stage yawns) but he was having none of it, insisting that they walk me back to the hotel then they go out again! Then he tried to persuade me, as a friend that I should agree to this since she said it was mean. I said it was mean and that we'd come out to have fun together but he'd hogged her company all night. He showed no signs of giving up at all so I pulled out the Cancer Card. I said she wouldn't leave me because I'd had cancer and was still recovering (well it's not a million miles from the truth). The git didn't believe me!! I offered to show him my scars which he declined. But he did at least let us leave on our own. We were looking for somewhere to hide from him in case he decided to follow when a long haired French man appeared from nowhere and asked if we'd like to go to a club. Oh YES, but how much? £7 each.......DONE.
The club was called Salvador & Amanda and was Spanish. After initial apprehension, mixed with relief that we'd escaped Mr Dullsville, we walked down the steps into the basement club. It was already a great atmosphere, it was cosy not gloomy and not too big. We sat down and I had to fend off conversation from a rather dull, but probably very nice bloke from Norway who looked very out of place. We spotted a girl from Angela's village who even sat at our table, after checking the seats were free then ignored us and didn't acknowledge she knew who we were! Weird! There was a group of four dancing near us, really having a good time so we went for a wander and somehow got bought tequila slammers...........we spent the rest of the night chatting to Spanish and Mexican chaps who were just lovely and friendly. They weren't sleazy or anything, just well, NICE! I have a few photos on my phone with most of them in and outside the club which to be honest, I don't know who took!
After we left the club we went in search of food and found Mohamed who sold us some good coffee and falafels. Yum. Just as we were debating how to get back to the hotel in heels at 4am with a pedotaxi driver I sort of lost my footing on the kerb and erm.....fell off it. I was in a LOT of pain, so it must have hurt, given I'd have a few drinks. I couldn't get up........but I'd landed with the coffee upright and didn't spill one drop. The driver picked me up and made me sit on the seat of the trike. He took us (OK, should have seen this coming) to his mate's cab office. We did haggle them down a fiver.......and sauntered into the hotel at some ungodly hour. The guy on duty in reception greeted us with "You like dancing ladies?" I guess by the state of Angela's dirty bare feet, heels in hand and me limping it was obvious we'd been up to something.
We woke up after a few hours kip, and Angela eventually had to steel herself to check what the squeaking was just outside the window near her head, fearing a family of rats.
What she saw was one fat ugly baby pigeon and a scrawny weedy looking one. Little rat with wings was pecking the big one saying "Stop eating all the food you fat git", making a right old song and dance. Nearby was the gnarled remains of a dried up dead pigeon. I'm not sure if fat pigeon ate him, or just his food or if the weedy looking one nagged and pecked him to death. We reckoned the mum was squatting and had rung the council to take the dead one away but, well you know what they're like! She looked like she was probably on crack anyway (yes I know she was a pigeon but we'd had a lot of tequila the night before and they sort of developed human characteristics).
Despite the swelling on my right foot, the pain in my right hand and the HUGE graze on my left knee I was determined we should complete our weekend with gallery visits as planned.
So, hobbling like Tiny Tim along the riverside towards Tate Modern, a strange man dressed in black with a curly ginger ponytail slowed his pace to mine (my "mate" was steaming ahead forgetting I was lame) and asked in a mysterious low foreign accent
Man: "Are the eyes connected to the paranormal?"
Me: "Erm, no"
Man: "So you do not have second sight?"
Me: "Um, no, I don't think so"
He nodded and walked off.........then paused, turned around and came back to say
Man: "I once saw a king cobra dance to the tune of a flute, he had two blue eyes on his back".
He then gave me a knowing look and a smile, a nod and disappeared.
Weirdos, I draw them like water to a sponge. Dirty bath water.
Hayward gallery was pretty good - it was Psycho Buildings exhibition. We spent a well earned rest on the floor inside a plastic bubble with people crawling around on a suspended plastic shelf above us. We also spent, what felt like forever wandering (very slowly and painfully in my case) round the Tate Modern - as thought provoking as many of the works were, I was still pretty damn relieved to get to the top level - the overriding provoked thought being that of pain and the need to lie down and not move for a very long time.
More hobbling and limping required to get to the tube - Southwark station - and we just kept getting the giggles. To the point where we thought we MIGHT lose control - pelvic floor kinda control! Just as we stopped doubled over laughing at me hobbling twenty paces behind Angela and how pathetic I looked and felt some men across the road pointed and started taking the mickey. One of them was loading up a van with equipment and started chatting, asking if we were pissed. Another disappeared then reappeared with a bottle of cold water to hold on my swollen ankle. I was getting first aid in the middle of London from a man with a FILM CREW name tag.........they were apparently filming a new series of Minder where Shane Richie plays Arthur's nephew (well someone's nephew, maybe it's Terry's nephew). Sadly we didn't see Shane but two rather nice looking men in expensive suits got into a chauffeur driven car. They were probably famous.
All in all it was a pretty damn good weekend with a lot of laughing and I believe the laughing probably helped tone my abdominal muscles more than the two weeks at the gym I've missed because my ankle and wrist were too painful!
I can't believe it's taken me so long to get round to finish this. I think it's because I've been busy! Oh and I went out on a date with a man. For dinner. He's very nice!
After finding the hotel and dumping our bags, we hit Oxford Street. After finding a nice John Rocha top in Debenham's sale we went to Selfridges. Angela says that when Holly Golightly says that nothing bad could ever happen in (Breakfast at) Tiffany's, that sums up how she feels about Selfridges. Now I understand why! Basically, we got free make up and perfume and hair straightening just by walking through the store. I did actually buy some of the products but only stuff I already wanted. We had our eyebrows waxed and made up again too so all that was left was to get dressed for the evening and eat! Obviously we had to go to the Champagne bar for champagne and oysters and then to the food hall to buy olives and a selection of healthy stuff from RAW. We scoffed them back at the hotel, tweaked hair and make up slightly, washed London off our feet and got changed.
By the time we hit Covent Garden it was pushing 11pm! We'd had a quick drink in Tottenham Court road and then really struggled walking round the cobbles of the Garden looking for somewhere that was still serving. In search of a cashpoint we found Navajo Joe's where I was keen to revisit because the barstaff throw the cocktail shakers around properly and serve tasty snacks! Access DENIED. The doorman said they were closing, and even after debating that 11pm didn't sound like a "late bar" as the sign said he just didn't want us in there. We were getting desperate, the champagne buzz had worn off and it was looking like a very sensible night ahead for us. It wasn't looking good, since everywhere had queues outside and the thought of joining them in heels wasn't terribly appealing.
More cobble hobbling and we found a decent place, paid for drinks and miraculously found a seat. It didn't take long before we were joined by some rather boring but pleasant enough bloke who took a shine to Angela, said comedy things like "You both look very alike", "Have you been here before?" and mispronounced every place name that came up in conversation. When he, AT LAST went to the bar, girly chat took place and I started yawning when he came back, Angela went to the ladies and I got talking to four very nice, but VERY young lads all aged 19, rather than talk to our new "friend" who was from Persia (he doesn't like saying Iran). They confirmed that everywhere was about £15 to get in, but at their tender age, having been ID'd on the door, couldn't recommend anywhere in particular. Angela tried to ditch the Persian by saying I was tired (remember my stage yawns) but he was having none of it, insisting that they walk me back to the hotel then they go out again! Then he tried to persuade me, as a friend that I should agree to this since she said it was mean. I said it was mean and that we'd come out to have fun together but he'd hogged her company all night. He showed no signs of giving up at all so I pulled out the Cancer Card. I said she wouldn't leave me because I'd had cancer and was still recovering (well it's not a million miles from the truth). The git didn't believe me!! I offered to show him my scars which he declined. But he did at least let us leave on our own. We were looking for somewhere to hide from him in case he decided to follow when a long haired French man appeared from nowhere and asked if we'd like to go to a club. Oh YES, but how much? £7 each.......DONE.
The club was called Salvador & Amanda and was Spanish. After initial apprehension, mixed with relief that we'd escaped Mr Dullsville, we walked down the steps into the basement club. It was already a great atmosphere, it was cosy not gloomy and not too big. We sat down and I had to fend off conversation from a rather dull, but probably very nice bloke from Norway who looked very out of place. We spotted a girl from Angela's village who even sat at our table, after checking the seats were free then ignored us and didn't acknowledge she knew who we were! Weird! There was a group of four dancing near us, really having a good time so we went for a wander and somehow got bought tequila slammers...........we spent the rest of the night chatting to Spanish and Mexican chaps who were just lovely and friendly. They weren't sleazy or anything, just well, NICE! I have a few photos on my phone with most of them in and outside the club which to be honest, I don't know who took!
After we left the club we went in search of food and found Mohamed who sold us some good coffee and falafels. Yum. Just as we were debating how to get back to the hotel in heels at 4am with a pedotaxi driver I sort of lost my footing on the kerb and erm.....fell off it. I was in a LOT of pain, so it must have hurt, given I'd have a few drinks. I couldn't get up........but I'd landed with the coffee upright and didn't spill one drop. The driver picked me up and made me sit on the seat of the trike. He took us (OK, should have seen this coming) to his mate's cab office. We did haggle them down a fiver.......and sauntered into the hotel at some ungodly hour. The guy on duty in reception greeted us with "You like dancing ladies?" I guess by the state of Angela's dirty bare feet, heels in hand and me limping it was obvious we'd been up to something.
We woke up after a few hours kip, and Angela eventually had to steel herself to check what the squeaking was just outside the window near her head, fearing a family of rats.
What she saw was one fat ugly baby pigeon and a scrawny weedy looking one. Little rat with wings was pecking the big one saying "Stop eating all the food you fat git", making a right old song and dance. Nearby was the gnarled remains of a dried up dead pigeon. I'm not sure if fat pigeon ate him, or just his food or if the weedy looking one nagged and pecked him to death. We reckoned the mum was squatting and had rung the council to take the dead one away but, well you know what they're like! She looked like she was probably on crack anyway (yes I know she was a pigeon but we'd had a lot of tequila the night before and they sort of developed human characteristics).
Despite the swelling on my right foot, the pain in my right hand and the HUGE graze on my left knee I was determined we should complete our weekend with gallery visits as planned.
So, hobbling like Tiny Tim along the riverside towards Tate Modern, a strange man dressed in black with a curly ginger ponytail slowed his pace to mine (my "mate" was steaming ahead forgetting I was lame) and asked in a mysterious low foreign accent
Man: "Are the eyes connected to the paranormal?"
Me: "Erm, no"
Man: "So you do not have second sight?"
Me: "Um, no, I don't think so"
He nodded and walked off.........then paused, turned around and came back to say
Man: "I once saw a king cobra dance to the tune of a flute, he had two blue eyes on his back".
He then gave me a knowing look and a smile, a nod and disappeared.
Weirdos, I draw them like water to a sponge. Dirty bath water.
Hayward gallery was pretty good - it was Psycho Buildings exhibition. We spent a well earned rest on the floor inside a plastic bubble with people crawling around on a suspended plastic shelf above us. We also spent, what felt like forever wandering (very slowly and painfully in my case) round the Tate Modern - as thought provoking as many of the works were, I was still pretty damn relieved to get to the top level - the overriding provoked thought being that of pain and the need to lie down and not move for a very long time.
More hobbling and limping required to get to the tube - Southwark station - and we just kept getting the giggles. To the point where we thought we MIGHT lose control - pelvic floor kinda control! Just as we stopped doubled over laughing at me hobbling twenty paces behind Angela and how pathetic I looked and felt some men across the road pointed and started taking the mickey. One of them was loading up a van with equipment and started chatting, asking if we were pissed. Another disappeared then reappeared with a bottle of cold water to hold on my swollen ankle. I was getting first aid in the middle of London from a man with a FILM CREW name tag.........they were apparently filming a new series of Minder where Shane Richie plays Arthur's nephew (well someone's nephew, maybe it's Terry's nephew). Sadly we didn't see Shane but two rather nice looking men in expensive suits got into a chauffeur driven car. They were probably famous.
All in all it was a pretty damn good weekend with a lot of laughing and I believe the laughing probably helped tone my abdominal muscles more than the two weeks at the gym I've missed because my ankle and wrist were too painful!
I can't believe it's taken me so long to get round to finish this. I think it's because I've been busy! Oh and I went out on a date with a man. For dinner. He's very nice!
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