I'm pondering setting up a Mental Health filter as I have a need to blather on about my latest meanderings in the field of my mental health (or lack thereof).

I am not doing this out of a need or cry for attention. I want to journal this stuff because I journal most stuff that I need to get out of my head, but I don't want to subject everyone to it if they don't want to be subjected to it...

There is no compulsion on you to read or comment on whatever I put in this filter.

Please comment (comments are screened) if you're interested in what I'll be putting there. I won't judge anyone if they don't want to be in the filter.

This entry was originally posted at http://lizziec.dreamwidth.org/426016.html. There are currently comments on the original entry.

Um. Hi. *waves*

So I've been gone a while and feel I owe you an explanation. Here it is.

Most of you know I've been struggling for the past year with a flare up /relapse of my depression and anxiety. In October, in an effort to help fix me, my gp had me change my meds. In order to start new ones I had to go off the old ones and that messed me up. My flare up got worse and, as usually happens when I'm fucked up mentally I found it difficult to connect with, well, anything - books, TV, writing and especially people.

Because I find connecting so spoons depleting, I tend to cut it down to a minimum, talking to only 2 or 3 people on a regular basis because that's all I can cope with.

Things are a bit better. I'm finding connecting a bit less hard. It's not exactly easy yet, but this post is me trying.

I'm sorry I haven't been around much. I'm sorry I've ignored communications from those who have tried to raise me. To use the old cliche, it's not you, it's me. I just couldn't (and still can rarely) put my self together enough to properly communicate with more than a very few. I'm going to try harder from now and I'm incredibly sorry if I've upset any of you. I never intended to.

Please don't feel you have to reply to this. It's not a cry for help or pity. It's just me attempting to explain why I've been such a flake in the last four months.

This entry was originally posted at http://lizziec.dreamwidth.org/433438.html. There are currently comments on the original entry.

I think it's a reflex among pretty much everyone who talks to other people. When someone asks you how you are, unless you know someone very well or are particularly good at sharing, the default response is "ok" or "fine". Especially because when people ask "how are you?" it's more a social reflex than a genuine desire to know how you are, because more often than not the asker doesn't really want the full answer to the question because usually the answer is more complicated and messy than anyone really wants to get into in what is essentially a superficial social interaction.

In any case, my default reaction is to say "ok" and move on. I did it tonight when someone on IRC asked me how I was. I've been feeling a bit guilty since then because the truth is I'm not okay. I'm not crumbled into a little bits. I'm functioning and working and that in itself is a good thing. But right now I'm quite a long way from okay. I'm very much hoping that when the first anniversary of mum's death passes in two weeks that I'll start to be ok again. Given I started to be not ok just before mum's birthday and Mothering Sunday (about three weeks ago) it surely has to be that. I'm hoping it will go away soon. But right now, honestly? I'm not okay.

ETA: 23/08/11 no longer filtered

This entry was originally posted at http://lizziec.dreamwidth.org/416686.html. There are currently comments on the original entry.

Grief is a funny thing. I thought I knew what it had to offer, having been through it once when my dad died, but either I have forgotten or I experienced it in a different way, being, as I was, a child. I think it's probably a combination of the two. It's 19 years this Christmas since daddy died, so it's been a long time, and I'm (obviously) older now, though apparently not so old that being completely parentless doesn't feel extremely premature. I feel much too young for all this.

A lot of the time I feel like I'm doing ok. I'm even managing to enjoy stuff, and I'm not in a depressed puddle on the floor, a situation which I hope continues because it's only this year I've really felt on top of my depression and I don't need to go back to the beginning. Or even to the middle.

Then something will slap me around the face and I will cry and howl like my heart is breaking. It's not triggered by those still several times a day "oh I'll just call mum and say..." thoughts, which always complete before I remember that I can't and won't ever again. They're becoming like a routine part of my day, but still give me a little jolt everytime.

It isn't even triggered by sorting out her affairs (by the way, the Letters of Administration arrived yesterday, so I'm starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel on that one). It's usually triggered by something that completely blindsides me, like her teapot, or a song that makes me think of her.

It's annoying because I'll be bobbing along ok and then whatever that trigger happens to be will hit me and I'll be a wreck for the rest of the day.

On a not entirely unrelated note, I went to see my GP this week to get some more pills, and finished the appointment wondering if I was really doing as well as I thought I was. She said I looked weary and asked what had been happening since I last saw her in the middle of March. So I told her. Really, everything has happened since then - mum's diagnosis, her illness, her death, her funeral, her house sorting. I told her what had happened. Then she asked for more details so I told her. Then she asked about the end and I recounted the last week and then the last 24 hours of mum's life, and I cried. I was booked in for a 10 minute appointment, and she was running half an hour late when she got to me, but she still spent 20 mins with me, and then booked me in for a one off appointment with my old psychiatric nurse, Nikki.

I saw her at 3:30 on Thursday and was good for absolutely nothing the rest of the day. She spent an hour with me, during which I cried pretty much constantly. I had Edexcel work to do that evening and ended up abandoning it. I was as low as I've been in a while, which I think is just related to the hour I'd spent crying. She arranged to see me again in a couple of weeks to make sure I'm still "ok".

Honestly, until I saw my GP and psychiatric nurse, I didn't realise I still had so many emotions left to with this, or so many tears to cry, and I'm not sure where it all came from. I don't think they're all back in the bottle though. And I'm wondering if I'm really doing ok, or whether I'm just glossing over it all, which then leads to me crying for an hour at someone.

Stupid grief and its non-standard, non-linear path.

Had a lovely surprise the other night (Thursday) - foo and rah brought Ben up to me, which was amazing. They also brought benji to see me and we all ended up going for dinner after visiting hours, which helped recharge my spoons a little. Ben's heading back to Canterbury, and work today, but it's been amazing to have him around in the meantime. I don't know how I'll ever thank everyone for how amazing they're being.

Mum's still hanging on, but definitely getting a little bit worse every day. The doctors have put a nasogastric tube in to feed mum that way as she can't swallow any more. Any food she tries to eat gets spat back out again, and liquids just dribble out when she next opens her mouth. It's pretty grim to be honest. The downside to the feeding tube is that mum's finding it difficult to breathe with it in. The tumour is blocking off her left nostril, so she can't breathe through it and she can't have the tube up there, so they had to put it up her right nostril, which blocks that off as far as breathing goes. She's now breathing through her mouth only, which is somewhat complicated by the fact that she's now not producing enough saliva making her mouth incredibly dry. She's been prescribed some artifical saliva which has solved the problem somewhat, but it's another indicator of how much worse she's getting.

On the upside, she's off the insulin sliding scale now, and back on metformin, though a liquid version that's put in via her NG tube as she can't swallow. She's still on an IV for fluids though, due to the fact any drink she has comes straight out.

What's most distressing is how confused she was last night. I was hoping it was just because she'd been pulled around a lot yesterday - the NG tube going in, down to XRay to check it was sited correctly, (incidentally, I went there with her and was allowed to stay while they did the XRay and, despite everything, it was pretty cool), back to her room and then getting shuffled around in bed, having the feed connecting and having some trouble breathing, or at least thinking she did.

According to the nurse though, mum was confused again this morning. Last night she kept trying to get up to go to the toilet for a wee even though we kept reassuring her that she had a catheter in. She also kept tugging on the ng tube and towards the end was getting even more confused. She was worrying about the electricity board (why?), saying "he has two assistants" (no idea who has two assistants), and telling me how scared she was.

Being me, and incredibly pessimistic I was expecting the call last night because of that and slept pretty badly.

Mum is still here though, but according to the nurse still trying to get out of bed to go to the toilet. I'm hoping today's visit isn't like yesterdays because I'm not sure I could stand it. It was really really bad. I could handle her dying far better if it didn't feel like she was losing her marbles too. And I don't think it's just the drugs (the nurses pretty much said that if it was the drugs the confusion would have come up before, as she's been on the same combo of drugs for over a week now). Honestly I don't think she's got much longer. I may be being really pessimistic. I'm sure I am. But things just feel really bleak right now.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

Well the good news, that I truly did not expect to be writing over the weekend, is that mum is still with us, and in some ways far stronger that we would or could have dared to imagine. For example, she managed a shower yesterday. She is, however, still on what Fiona, the brilliant Macmillan nurse calls a knife edge. She's still not really stable.

We know a little more about what is going on now. Mum has an infection which is making it hard to control her blood sugar, and has been on IV antibiotics for it since she was admitted on Thursday. The antibiotics haven't knocked it out so they started her on a second antibiotic today. They don't know where the infection is though, so obviously that makes it hard to treat. There is a possibility, though I don't know how actually likely it is, that the infection is being caused by the tumour itself (that part of the tissue of the tumour has died and become necrotic - that is, it's rotting away in her head). As of now it is just a theory though.

I think I mentioned the arrhythmia before. It's Arterial Fibrilation, and it is at least under control at the moment.

In her current condition they would not be able to start radiotherapy, and until she is more stable they're certainly not talking about transferring her from St Georges to anywhere, even the Royal Marsden, and are even further away from discussing her discharge.

Mum is a little more awake at the moment than she was over the weekend, which, given how sick she was on Friday will probably not surprise anyone. She also gets tired very easily - just sitting up for 10 mins means she has to sleep for the next hour. The fact that she is more with it and even able to sit up is the silver lining. Here is the cloud.

The tumour symptoms have and are continuing to get much worse. There's a constant nasal discharge, and the numbness and weakness in her face is getting worse. She can barely bite or chew (which is the reason why the doctors are probably going to put in a feeding [NG] tube tomorrow), and when she drinks, most of the liquid comes out again, though because of the numbness she isn't aware of it. The deafness in her left ear is worse, and her right eye is bulging out more. We've been told that the biggest danger of mum dying imminently comes from the fact that the tumour is wrapped her carotid artery. Apparently this could weaken the wall of the artery and lead to a massive bleed, the only upside to which is that it kills pretty painlessly and immediately.

Because mum is so unstable still, Fiona, the brilliant Macmillan nurse, is sorting out a low cost solicitor that they apparently use all the time at the hospital, to come out and help mum sort a will and a power of attorney, so no matter what happens and when, we're covered.

Mum is having good days and bad days, mood wise. Today has been pretty bad. She's been moved to a side room on the same ward and is convinced that she's dying and noone has told her. Which isn't true, as i) she isn't dying in the sense she means it - she's still critical but she was much more obviously about to die on Friday, or Saturday or Sunday, and ii) we have told her everything we know, and whether or not she remembers it, the doctors have too. The reason they've moved her is to make it easier for her to sleep and easier for us to be with her. She's also talking about having the cats put down because "let's face it, I'm not going home again." When I said that whether or not that was true we liked and would care for the cats she looked at me like I was lying, pulled a face and ignored me for a bit.

Like I said, she was having a bad day.

On top of all of this, I'm becoming increasingly aware that I am running out of mental health spoons. Thanks to Ben being so supportive I went into mum's illness with quite a stockpile built up, but I'm becoming aware that I'm nearly out. I'm getting tired out more easily, and getting irritable and bad tempered for no reason, and overreacting to small irritating situations.

This is not good, but I don't really know how to remedy it. Going home to Canterbury would probably help, but if time is very short, I don't want to spend anywhere else - I'm spending visiting hours (all of them) at the hospital, and should she die, I don't want to be in Kent. Being in Coulsdon is already quite far enough from the hospital.

When at mum's (as opposed to the Hospital), other stuff has to be done - Phil and I divide this between ourselves, and ignored this stuff for several days when the danger was most - but it takes time and spoons to do. However, if we were to ignore this stuff we'd end up with no clean clothes, cutlery/crockery or floor/workspace. On top of everything, I'm not sleeping very deeply because part of me is expecting the phone call.

I'm starting to feel the depression again, and the anxiety (though not badly yet, just I'm aware of them). And that's stressing me out even more. I don't want to backslide, but I don't know how to not.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

I'm having something of a rest day today, as my Sundays in Canterbury have all been to some extent since this has all kicked off. We try to get everything errandy or houseworky done on Saturday so I can chill on Sunday, which is much needed.

Having said that, I woke up this morning crying after a dream in which my brother died of Cancer (why it was Phil and not mum I don't know), which wasn't the best start to a morning ever - waking up crying really sucks :/. Thankfully the rest of the day has improved on that and I'm feeling rather more rested than I did. Roast dinner tonight. MMmmm :)

After talking briefly to mum, and in a little more detail to Phil, (and going from advice from lots of people) I've decided to stay in Canterbury for a few days. Well, sort of, anyway.

The hospital will be calling tomorrow, hopefully with some idea of what the tumour is. If it's one that needs urgent treatment then I'll head up straight away (I'm "only" an hour away, and I'm packing first thing, just in case) and take her to the hospital. She'll probably need an hour to sort herself out properly anyway. If they say that it's not Urgent (for certain values of urgent anyway) I'll stay until Wednesday, heading up for the consult on Thursday at St Georges when we'll find out for sure.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

With the worst case scenareo meaning driving up tomorrow morning, I'll at least get an extra night in my own bed with my own things, and that can't be bad. That's what I keep telling myself anyway, to help deal with the irrational guilt I feel at not heading back now, or first thing tomorrow for certain.

I slept the clock around last night. I'd gone to bed at 1am on Sunday night and got up at 5:30 and was clearly shattered by the end of the day as I fell asleep at about 10pm and woke up at around 10am, feeling much better, though from there I've become progressively fed up, grumpy and down. I suppose it's just one of those days.

Mum was released from the Day Surgery Unit at around 2 or 3pm yesterday feeling "as if [she] could run a mile". I suppose that's uber hospital drugs for you. The doctor took several samples of the tumour and while he was there he cleared out a bunch of gunk (mostly pus as I understand it) from mum's sinuses, so she feels much less congested at least, though it hasn't helped with any of the major tumour symptoms (the numbness and muscle weakness in her face, eye, nose, mouth; difficulty eating; deafness in one ear; shaking [a newish symptom] etc), it has slowed the perma-nosebleed to almost nothing, which I think is a great relief to us. Mr Tesco delivered some supplies with the groceries (namely micropore and gauze) so if it starts again we can rig up our own nose sling in imitation of the one they rigged up for mum yesterday at the hospital.

Results of the biopsy are due Thursday and my aunt (who has worked at St Georges and still volunteers there) told me yesterday that she was arranging everything. She's scouted out the best dropping off place, is arranging for a wheelchair to meet us there in case mum's unsteady on her feet (she's needed a wheelchair the last two times we've been to hospital) and tracked down the medical receptionist/admin type person who deals with the specific clinic and they're making sure that everything that is needed is there as a favour to my aunt. I guess knowing someone really can make a difference, and let's be frank - having a medical receptionist/secretary/admin person on your side can make a real difference.

While mum was feeling good I managed to have a couple of conversations with her about stuff that needed to be done, people to see and phone calls to make. It was apparently the perfect time as she felt like listening and was also feeling pessmistic about her prognosis, which while not ideal, meant that she gave some of my ideas the thought they at least deserved.

Got a response from Careline (attached to Diabetes UK) today, who I contacted yesterday with a panicked enquiry about the stupid diabetic nurses' comments that all weight loss was good when it came to type 2. Careline basically agreed with Macmillan (and directed me to them) about how uncontrolled, cancer related weight loss is bad and mum should see about getting referred to a proper, specialist dietician as a priority. It's been added to a list of things to ask her GP about when she next sees him (along with asking for different/better anti-emetics as the ones she has don't seem to work well and make her very sleepy). Take that stupid diabetes nurse!

As I mentioned I seem to have spent a good deal of this afternoon getting wound up with various things and increasingly fed up. Not entirely sure why everything is getting to me today, but it's not helpful. At one point I had a long list of things I was annoyed and fed up about. Thankfully reeling the list off to benc over the phone and a lesser list to red_pill in person helped a little.

Pondering going home (Canterbury) on Thursday night, but it all depends on what happens on Thursday's ENT appointment. I'm finding it difficult to see past that at the moment, which I suppose (looking at it objectively) isn't helping my mood much.

Phil's first driving lesson tomorrow, which is rather scary. Coulsdon and Wallington, you have been warned. Stay off the roads :P

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

Got to Mayday for the hastily arranged ENT appointment about half an hour early and were seen immediately by the doctor. I can't say I was overly impressed with his bedside manner, though it improved some way into the appointment where we reached a mutual understanding. A little more on that further in.

To start with the doctor was very brisk, and wanted to know mum's history with this problem starting from the beginning which upset and frustrated her, so I'm not sure he got a complete picture. Then without any prep time at all went to stick a camera up her nose to see what was going on up there, which completely understandably completely upset mum. She started to cry and said that she hadn't expected that - which was fair as we were just told to be there, no details more than that - and the doctor got kind of frustrated and said that he'd only been handed the case the evening before and had squeezed us into his clinic as a favour to the Neurologist that mum had seen before and was seeing lots more patients in clinic today than he had timeslots for. I guess that explains why we got seen as soon as we got there rather than at a specific time. After we understood he was rushed and he understood mum was scared and uninformed about what the appointment would involve he became much better bedside manner wise. It's a shame it took tears and stuff to get to that point.

He had a go at getting the camera up mum's left nostril, but it didn't go very far as he kept hitting something which I believe was the tumour (he got mum to have a go at blowing her nose, but the blockage didn't move at all), and the attempt looked like it hurt an awful lot (judging by the way mum gripped my hand). It went fine up the right nostril, and appeared to hurt mum much less.

He appeared rather concerned and disappeared for a bit to arrange some things, and then came back to his office to make calls to further arrange things while we were in there. It amused me to hear him sweet talking nurses in much the same way I sweet talk people when I need something.

Anyway, he'd thought that the tumour needed biopsying asap and managed to squeeze mum into his Monday morning list for a biopsy under a general anaesthetic. The rest of the time at the hospital involved heading to the day surgery ward to get pre-admitted and see an anaesthetist (though not the one who'll be doing mum tomorrow) to be checked anaesthetic wise. Was informed that the major risk is that it doesn't stop bleeding after the biopsy is taken and if that happens her nose (through which the biopsy is being taken) will be packed and she'll be sent from Mayday (in Croydon, where all the appointments so far have been, and where the biopsy will be done tomorrow) to St Georges (in Tooting) to be admitted. Really hope that won't happen, but am pondering putting a bag of jammies and washing supplies in the car tomorrow morning just in case, in the hope being prepared will ward off problems.

The follow up to the biopsy will be at St Georges, where the doctor is actually based. He told us how to get there by public transport as he explained that the parking situation (and traffic on the way) is pretty bad, even for him. It was good of him to explain the transport options but I really don't think that mum is up to public transport at the moment. She had a turn while at Mayday on Friday and needed a wheelchair to get her out to the car again. Managed to sort out alternative arrangements that don't involve public transport, thankfully. My auntie and uncle live very very close (a mile or so) to St Georges, and my auntie has worked there (and still volunteers there) so we'll be parking the car at their house and my uncle will drop us off and pick us up, avoiding, hopefully, the parking problems at the hospital without exhausting mum.

All told, it looks like we'll know by Thursday afternoon what the tumour is and some sort of prognosis. The doctor on Friday didn't tell us at all about the MRI and what it showed, though I know he had the report in mum's file, but I know that between inital diagnosis of the tumour and now she is much much worse. Her left eye is completely non-functional, the huge nosebleeds every couple of weeks have evolved into a continuous drip/dribble of blood, she's almost deaf in her left ear and eating has become more of a challenge. Almost the entirety of the left hand side of her face is numb and tingly now, and the nausea and vomiting is worse. The anaesthetist we saw on Friday suggested mum start taking the anti sick pills at night as a matter of course to hopefully ward off the worst of it.

Off to Coulsdon again soon. We have to be at the hospital for 7:30 am tomorrow, which is quite unholy. I decided I'd rather sleep at mum's and get up early than sleep here and get up in what is essentially the middle of the night and drive there then. I think tomorrow will be quite long enough without starting at 4am. All the same, leaving here for Coulsdon is getting harder each week, though I'm not sure whether it's because I'm eating into my mood/spoons reserves each time I spend a week there, or because the situation is getting harder in itself.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

Yesterday was a much better day for a couple of reasons. First, I got out for a bit a couple of times (getting some ginger tea and some peppermint tea, and some water biscuits to help mum with her nausea and vomiting; going to Coulsdon for a little bit of a wander with mum later), and secondly I achieved some stuff. I have a feeling that those things are quite important in making me feel useful and thus better about being here.

Mum had pretty bad nausea and vomiting on Monday and during Monday night, but started to feel better on Tuesday morning, though still very tired. She cancelled some visitors who were supposed to be coming in the morning and rested and managed to eat something, and by Lunchtime felt up to attempting to go out, so we took it in several steps, which seemed to help her. Pension first, then Coulsdon itself. First to Coulsdon Hardware to get a new mop and bucket (having broken mum's mop during the great room tidy project - it was very funny, Phil looked all forlorn and said looking very sad "I could have sworn [the squeegee mechanism] would have worked before I actually broke it...), then as she was still doing ok we went on to the butchers for some sausages for tomorrow night, then as she was still doing ok we went on to the Coffee place that has sprung up in Coulsdon since I moved away/the bypass was built. A cold drink from there and some carrot cake seemed to do wonders for perking mum up, as, I'm pretty sure, did just getting out. The whole trip wiped her out, but she said she felt better for it.

While she had a sleep I went to work playing with the mop trialling the mop, before losing interest mopping the floors in the kitchen and the bathroom, and hoovering all the other floors while I was at it and had the vacuum cleaner out. I'm pretty sure that the kitchen floor is better for it. I hope so anyway, because it was hard work.

My adventures in cleaning did reveal to me some interesting personality traits in my mum's cats though. George, who is enormous and I think likes to think of himself as a bit of a hard man, is a big scaredy cat who is terrified of the vacuum cleaner. When I went near his chosen sitting place with it on he jumped up and ran away. On the other hand, Violet, who is his sister and very petite, wasn't scared of the vacuum or the mop, or the fact the kitchen floor was wet, and stayed put in the kitchen on her chosen worktop the whole time I was working in there. But curiously I found out while was taking a break that Violet is scared of 80's Power Ballads. While I was taking a break and listening to a rather eclectic mix of music, Violet was curled up next to me asleep. Every time an 80's Power Ballad came on, she'd jump up and look a bit freaked out and need some fussing before she'd relax again. It was very cute. And funny. And I'm clearly mean ;)

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in my little room again, catching up on various internet things, including the CBB, where I asked for prayers and thoughts to do with this situation and everyone has been overwhelmingly amazing. I can't express how touched I am with the responses, especially towards someone who is largely a lurker now and most people don't know well, but will have a go later at expressing it anyway, because they deserve to know how awesome they are.

Anyway, while I was geeking around with my laptop I became aware of being very cold. I assumed I was just being a big girly wuss, especially as this room is colder than the others because of an air vent in the wall. About half 7 I finally got around to checking on the radiator and it was stone cold at a time when I knew it should be on, and discovered that the gas had run out (I'd forgotten how much of a pain these type of meters could be). Ended up taking the gas card and the electric key down to the place in the valley that tops them up and decided while I was out I'd get a pizza for dinner because I really couldn't be bothered to cook by this time. All this meant I was back a bit later than I otherwise would have been and I walked into a gaggle (if two plus a toddler is a gaggle) of Mormons, so my pizza went cold while we all talked. As most of you know, I'm no longer a Mormon, and my time with them was often rather, um, fraught, but one of the people (Good Guy) who was there is the only one who consistently stood by my family through everything and who still talks to, and is on good terms with us. Which is the reason I didn't shoo him out of the door faster.

Mum resigned from the church finally last year sometime over the Church's interference with California's Proposition 8 last year, and has foregone contact with them (except for Good Guy) for long before that, so it was a bit of a surprise to see this man with his Home Teaching companion. They'd come to offer mum a Priesthood Blessing as apparently when Good Guy saw her on Sunday to see if there was anything he could do, he offered one and mum said she'd think about it.

Anyway, she decided that actually she didn't want one and proceeded to doze through the rest of the visit - good for her - while I chatted because after about 6 years out, and 6 years inactive before, and what they did to me and my family (lots of hurt/bitterness still) that I still don't feel like I can be rude to them. Gah. Still, the visit did result in Good Guy saying he'd do some basic garden maintenance for us, which is good because Phil and I are too busy (and I'm too inept when it comes to garden stuff) and mum too ill to be able to do it ourselves. I also chatted to the Home Teaching Companion about UKC, where he was a student at KLS until 2007, which was quite nice. Alas, I fear I have given away too much of my location to him in my desire to express how much I loved Canterbury. Hope we don't end up with a visit from the missionaries...

When I finally got to my pizza it was lukewarm, fading to cold before the end :( I've no idea how they manage it, but Mormons seem very good at turning up when dinner is nearly or actually ready and then talking until it's cold :(

Currently waiting for the Tesco delivery to arrive and feeling the early and cold today. I'd then go back to sleep and be a big lazy thing, but it's mum's payday and if she feels up to it has a number of things she wants to do.


Much later - Tesco turned up, food is all put away. Think I may have ordered too much. Fridge and Freezer cannae take much more captain! Also managed to have a shower, in preparation for venturing to Croydon later if mum feels up to it.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

It's been a bad day for both mum and me today. She's had the nausea and vomiting and lack of energy that she's been getting frequently from what we now know is the tumour (though I don't know if it's the Primary, the Secondary or both making her like that), so she's spent most of the day asleep (and getting the sweats from the tramadol which the hospital gave her for the pain, which is just the crown on feeling crappy anyway, I would imagine).

On top of that, the hospital have yet to call and tell us when the MRI is going to be, so there's a fair bit of sitting around twiddling thumbs and I'm really struggling with that. When mum's downstairs, as she is a lot, because it's easier for her to breathe and whatnot when sitting in a comfy chair down there than in bed up here, she has the tv on to what she wants, and has the volume up fairly loud, so as a general rule I'm happier elsewhere. In addition, I want my own space very much and so because of all of these factors I've been hiding out in my room (who'd have thought that at 26 and married I would be saying that again?) most of today. I ache from sitting on a bed or a floor all day.

It's also Monday, so I'm furthest away from being home again, and even though it's a short week as far as being away from Ben is concerned, I miss him, and it feels like a very long time before I see him again. I miss our flat, I miss our gerbils, I miss home cooking, I miss our companionable silences.

I'm sorry for the whining, I truly am. I'm very low, mood-wise right now and I just need to vent before it gets too much.

On the upside, I did the computery part of a tesco order for mum (she told me what was needed and I did the typing and ordering of the things), so at least one good thing has been achieved today. And I just remembered that I also called about postal voting, so I suppose that's two. And hopefully tomorrow will be better.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

The bed came at about 2:30pm and is now built and the room is looking vaguely welcoming, which is good, because next week I'll be sleeping in it for five nights.

Made it home through terrible weather at about 7ish. Was rather grumpy but so glad to be home. My home, with my things and my husband, who had even done my chores so I didn't have anything to do when I got in, which is something I'm more grateful for than I can even express right now.

I'm also incredibly grateful for my friends at the moment who have all been supportive in various ways and I don't know what I'd have done in the last few days without their help. Not having any friends in Croydon is actually one of the hardest things about spending a lot of time at mum's in the last few weeks, and the thing I'm going to really struggle with in the coming months if I continue what will start next week and spend 5 days at mum's and only 2(ish) at home.

I rely on my friends a lot for my sanity, and sometimes it really helps a lot if I can just go out for an afternoon or an evening with them, even if we don't necessarily talk about deep things. The only people I know in Coulsdon/Croydon now are my mum and brother, and it makes getting out more difficult. I'm very dull and find it difficult to be out on my own. I'd much rather have someone to have coffee with, or walk with or whatever. I'm not quite sure yet how I'll find a way around it.

Another thing I need to figure out sooner rather than later is how to make the room I'll be sleeping in a bit more my space and less stark spare room. Starting to wish I hadn't got rid of the posters I had before/during Uni. They'd be a start.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered

I suppose, really, that I should have taken photos of each stage of this, because it was a mammoth undertaking. I didn't though, so you'll all have to put up with boring old text :)

When we first moved in to our flat, Ben's parents very kindly gave us an old sofa of theirs. It was leather and a little worn, but basically sound, very comfy and, most importantly as we had no money after buying essentials like a fridge freezer, was free.

Cut to four and a half years later, and the sofa was rather a lot worse for wear. The leather had cracked in the seats, and so was held together from the inside with duct tape. One of the struts had gone, so it was saggy and the lining under the cushions had split open so stuff kept falling right down. Basically it was on borrowed time before it completely disintegrated and we knew it.

With that in mind, we went Sofa shopping, and after much deliberation, we found one we liked at Harveys (the three seater "Clarissa") and having measured our hall, our old sofa and the new one, we were certain we could fit it in. The dimensions were all within a couple of centimetres. So we ordered it, we paid for it and we waited 4-6 weeks for it to be delivered.

And right now I'm so unbelievably pissed off because I finished writing this, only to lose it because LJ logged me out and I'm an idiot who didn't copy paste it before logging back in so LJ *helpfully* restored the last saved draft which involved losing over three quarters of what I had already written. So the rest of this is a rewrite of what I've already done once and my heart isn't really in it.

So four to six weeks later we moved everything in the flat around so that we could fit the new sofa in. This was no mean feat, because our flat has been full to bursting for the last two years or so and we've just been coming up with ever more inventive ways to fit things in. This particular moving of stuff involved taking everything out of the hall - two bookcases full of books, computers and assorted internet paraphernalia, coats and shoes, printer, ironing board and clothes horse, fan... No, our hall is not some sort of Tardis, just very packed ;) It also involved moving two bookcases full of books and another two cd racks from the living room so that the doorway was clear. For the record, 3 of the bookcases ended up in the bedroom where they now form a sort of library ;) The CD towers are still there as well. The layout made enough sense that we decided not to move the stuff back.

Anyway, after lots of hard work to clear a path, we then had to get the old sofa out (which we did and put it safely in the garage for a couple of days) so we could get the new one in. I arranged for it to be picked up by the Council, who did so on the morning of our next rubbish collection, which was handily on the morning the new sofa was being delivered. I think that by the title, and this statement, most of you can guess that what happened next was not straightforward. Really I should have known better than to arrange for our old sofa to go before we had the new one safe and sound in our living room. Alas. I am an idiot who bites her thumb at the fates ;)

The sofa delivery men arrived about an hour or so after the council men had come to get the old sofa. They came up to see what obstacles were in their way and the first and clearly senior man declared that the new sofa would not fit. We had measured everything and were convinced he was wrong, so he brought up the sofa to prove it. And he was right. We had the sofa men try getting it in several ways. We tried getting it in several ways. There was no getting around the fact that this shiny new sofa just would not fit. The problem lay in two places. First, we have a funny corner you have to get around to get into the living room, and this prevented us lying it down horizontally and sliding it through the door that way, and it was too high to get in vertically. Secondly, although this sofa was more or less the same size as the old one the edges are all hard, whereas they were squishy on the old one, so they squished to get round awkward things. There was literally no more than 2cm between us and the sofa getting through the door into the space where it would certainly fit.

The delivery men suggested two possible solutions. Option A involved them leaving the sofa with us and (they suggested) swapping our bedroom with our living room. Ben and I quickly realised that that plan was a no-go for a number of reasons. Option B was that they took the sofa with them back to Harveys. Option B was at this point looking the most palatable, so Ben called Harveys to see what they could offer us if we chose to do that. I say he called - he had to, because I was having a freak out (hysterical tears) by this point, convinced that it was all my fault because I'd taken the initial measurements, and that I could never have nice things and I never would again because I'd messed the sofa business up so badly. I think that this is probably an example of what my old Mental Health Nurse would have called "Catastrophic Thinking".

Anyway, Ben called Harveys and they told us they could give us 50% of what we paid for the sofa if we returned it because making it fit was our responsibility and if it didn't they weren't actually obliged to give us anything. They said that they would then take a £50 charge out of the store credit to cover the cost of bringing the sofa back from our flat, where it was currently vertical on one end in the hall, and then when we picked a new sofa they'd take another £50 for delivering a new one. Basically, when all was said and done, we were looking at getting nothing back and essentially losing all the money that we had paid for the perfectly good sofa in our hall.

After this call, we decided to pick Option C, which was to keep the thing and figure out something. And Ben had the beginnings of a Very Cunning Plan.

The shiny Sofa sat in our hall for the best part of a week while Ben gathered his plans and tools. This involved borrowing a Jigsaw (the power tool, not the puzzle) from dmc, buying lots of supplies from toolstation, and an electric screwdriver from B&Q. Finally, his plan was ready to be put in to action, and to be honest, it scared me rather a lot, but I'd been sitting on a beanbag whenever I was in the living room for the best part of week by this time and ready for drastic action that could have ended with severed fingers.

It turns out that the new sofa basically has a box made of MDF or chipboard or something at each end where the arms are, which aren't structural. So Ben picked the staples out of the fabric at the bottom of the sofa at one end, which was pretty difficult because the staples are cheap and kept breaking, then peeled the fabric back ([Edit] Ben says this staple remover deserves an honourable mention in this story. Possibly because he couldn't have managed the staples without it. Anyway, if you need a staple remover, that one is awesome, apparently).

Next he used the jigsaw to cut the box about half way down (this was higher than Ben is tall, and where the plan could have ended with severed fingers as he was jigsawing above his head, and possibly the scariest thing I have ever witnessed), we slid it into the living room as it now fitted under the door easily being about half a foot shorter than it had been previously and then Ben put the end back together with mending plates. It took forever. There is literally barely a millimetre of the join that is not covered by one mending plate or another. After this was done, he pulled the fabric back over the end and stapled it down again. Apart from the alarming creaking noise it made the first time it was sat on, it's not moved or made a noise since, and we've now been using it for 4 months or so. Ben thinks it may be stronger now with all the mending plates than it was before.

Regardless, it's now in, and not being moved again until we move. What we'll do then, I don't know. Possibly the procedure in reverse, or maybe leaving it for the removal company to try and get it out while scratching our heads and sounding bewildered that it doesn't fit given it went in.

I tell this story largely as a cautionary tale to anyone even considering new furniture. Measure, measure, measure. And that there is usually a Plan C, even were one doesn't appear to be readily available.


The sofa in situ

When I lost this entry, I got a case of the fuckits and considered giving up. I went and washed up instead and I'm glad I re-wrote it. I got into the swing again, and I think it was worth it.

I actually wrote this about a year ago, but I'm posting it now, just because :)

I saw Goodbye, Farewell and Amen, the M*A*S*H finale the other day. It's not the first time I’ve seen it – when I was first at University some kind American recorded it for me from cable TV over there (on a PAL tape even!) and sent it over, for which I was very grateful. It was however, the first time I’ve seen it for about 5 years, and this was certainly the first time since I’ve been ill. It must have really spoken to me, because I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it since.

In it Hawkeye, a character who had been teetering on the edge of some sort of mental illness or combat stress since the start of the series 11 years before, has a sort of breakdown and ends up under the care of a psychiatrist in a hospital "pulling shrapnel from [his] memory".

Over the course of the episode the psychiatrist got Hawkeye back to his job, patching up wounded soldiers at the M*A*S*H unit, though he was by no means the same man, and was clearly struggling with life and his job.

All I’ve been able to think ever since (and this is ridiculous given that he is a fictional character) is how that man is never going to be the same again. Maybe it is because I am struggling with these issues myself at the moment, but I can’t stop thinking about how he will be forever changed, more fragile, lower self esteem, never as sure of himself again. The constant doubt that he is getting better, he will get better, he will ever be really better. The constant sense that something, an indefinable something, has been lost. The inability to remember who he really was before.

And it makes me want to cry.

Firstly I feel I should mention the US election. Yay! Obama won! :D I wanted him to win, and have thrown aside my cynicism for now to become really excited by a politician. A terribly important milestone too - the first black president of the USA :D I hope he could be like Kennedy for my generation. Except for the sleaze. And the Assassination. Definitely don't want those bits. So maybe not like Kennedy, maybe more like staying as awesome as he seems now when he's actually President.

The less said about Prop8 in Cali and an organisation I was formerly a member of, the better.

Now that's out of the way, two rather important milestones happened to me today.

I. I turned 25 sometime around midday today. I suppose I'm now officially on the wrong side of 25 now ;) . I have had a lovely day, and got some lovely presents and cards. Huge thanks to everyone who has wished me a happy birthday so far :) (Various on irc, some via text, alisondh and malmo58 on lj, and a couple via facebook). Thank you all - they were really appreciated.

II. My final appointment with Nikki the Mental Health nurse was today, and we talked over some stuff about keeping well, dealing with triggers, preventing relapse and what to be aware of in terms of signs that I might be relapsing. Also lots of stuff about rebuilding trust in myself and my wellness, so one bad day doesn't panic me or those close to me. I'm told this is pretty much the last thing that comes back. I'm feeling pretty positive tonight at least, and I'll be happy if I maintain this level of okayness for a year. If I do, then comes the Big Scary of coming off the pills. But that's in the future. I want to use this space now to thank everyone who has supported me over the last 18 months or so. I couldn't have done it without you guys, whether you are aware of having helped or not. Now the Black Dog is banished to his Kennel. I hope he stays there.

So for tonight I'm celebrating two huge milestones for me - being 25 and being discharged from the Mental Health team. Yay! Come celebrate with me :D Drinks on someone else!

Having made it through Edexcel marking and Clearing more or less in one piece I'm now starting to look at jobs and I've found one I want to apply for.

I've become rather stymied by the "Do you consider yourself to have a disability" question. Thing is, I'm much better than I was, I have to be or I wouldn't consider applying for jobs at all and those closest to me wouldn't let me, but I've been off work for a year, and a year long gap doesn't look good on a CV. I'm still seeing my counsellor and I'm still on happy pills, and though I'm winding down visits to my counsellor I'm probably going to be on the pills for at least another year to make sure I'm properly better and try and stop any relapse. Apparently the first year is when I'm most vulnerable to it. My gut says I should declare it, but I also feel like a bit of a fraud for even considering it.

"The University operates under the Two ticks scheme which means we will interview all applicants with a disability who meet the minimum criteria for a job vacancy and consider them on their abilities". This is rather valuable, and I feel it's my only shot at an interview given the huge gap on my CV when I was essentially "doing nothing", but am I really disabled as it's counted?

The University say: When answering this question, please note that under the Disability Discrimination Act 1995 a disability is defined as ‘a mental or physical impairment which has a substantial and long term effect upon your ability to carry out normal day to day activities.’.

[Poll #1246569]

(Please post any expansion on this or thoughts in comments below)

I can't help but feel that this would all be easier if I were visibly physically disabled.

Any (helpful) advice or comments you lot could give would be really great. I'm feeling very mixed up about this, and a tad anxious about giving the "wrong" answer if I'm completely honest. I mean, I was never on benefits while off work (the forms scared me) so never really "disabled" in the eyes of the government. I just don't know what to say :|

I've been struggling again for a while (thank you to everyone who has put up with it), especially when it comes to i. getting to sleep and ii. staying asleep. That's had a knock on effect with my moods (which had more or less plateaued at less than ideal). The conclusion come to today by Nikki and Dr K was that I was only being partially medicated by the Citalopram, so over the next week I'm being weaned off the Citalopram with a view to starting my new prescriptions - Mirtazapine, which apparently has some stuff in it that makes one drowsy, so I'm to take it at night and it will hopefully help me get to sleep and stay asleep. Unfortunately "weight gain" is a major side effect. Worried I'll turn into (more of) a whale now! Hopefully though it will medicate me properly and I will stop plateauing and start getting properly well again.

A warning to those of you who have a lot to do with me. The dr told me that while the meds are switching and whatnot I'll probably have a fairly big dip, so I'm going to apologise in advance for anything I say or do while low, and if I don't get out very much in the next few weeks.

Anyone reading have any experiences with Mirtazapine and can tell me about it?

Most of you know I was ill a couple of years ago with depression and since then I continue to have "down" periods which are worse than the downs I had before I was ill.

I had one tonight. I felt really pants to the point where I couldn't do anything except stand and stare at a point on the wall.

Ben forced me off to have a hot bath with my book, which I did. While I was doing that he fixed the bed (long story) and now I am curled up with my lappy and some candles lit with hot food on the way, still not feeling great, but feeling better than I was.

Sometimes it's the little things.

Here we go again?.

In other news, it's been a very up and down week from the POV of my recovery from depression but am on the Up again now I think. In terms of things happening it's actually been a very good week.

I have a place to gain experience to support my PGCE application at Community College Whitstable where my lovely employer Sue works in the Science Department. It seems like a really good school and they were really super helpful. I'm getting experience in the classroom (as a teacher's help or assistant or something), doing paperwork (making and photocopying worksheets etc) and observing other teachers (the deputy head is going to teach me how to observe teachers, something that I will apparetly learn for my PGCE anyway).

It all sounds really cool :D So, pending a clear police check (which was sent off on Thursday when I was at the school for an interview) I should be cleared to start this straight after half term. It was worth getting dolled up in a trouser suit and feeling like a bit(read "lot") of an idiot (even though Ben and Miles said I looked lovely/nice/whatever) after all it would appear.

Other excitement is that on March 7th I should be going on a Fun History Trip(TM) to ypres. I'm actually really excited :D Sounds like it will be excellent (if rather tiring and probably wet). I've been before in year 9 of High School but I know so much more now. I will take my camera and take pictures this time too.

OOh, compsoc stuff finally starting to come together :) Not too much longer now, we promise :)

I think that's about it for stuff I was going to say...

SO..as of Yesterday I am now

21

O.o

Very odd. Am now *old* ;)

Firstly I would like to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday on IRC, LiveJournal, in Person, with cards etc. They were all muchos appreciated :D I got lots and lots of cava, and other such nice things. Got a beautiful necklace from my mummy, chosen with the help of metamoof. The stones are (left to right, top to bottom) Peridote, Iolite, Blue Topaz, Garnet, Perl, Amethyst, Citrine, Iolite and Blue Topaz. From my brother I got some beautiful blue topaz earrings (again brought in Spain and transported to the UK by the everlovely metamoof), and lots and lots of cava from various people (J and Beffan) :D. Ben brought me a ticket to see the barenaked ladies in London on the first weekend in december and a usb christmas tree O.o From foo and rah I got some excellent little presents (4 - one a day till my birthday). I got a flannel that expands on contact with water, a little refillable sqishy shower gel thing, bath confetti and a cat soap that grows fur! I also recieved the traditional gift of money from quite a few rellies. I have decided that, despite my yucky financial situation to keep the money for me this year. It's my 21st and I want to have things for me. I know this is reckless given my lack of funds (slightly lifted now - loan was finally paid in Thursday) but I will only ever have one 21st Birthday, so I am going to be selfish.

I have roughly £120 and am leaning towards a new piece of computer hardware and some books. What I'm thinking about getting is a fairly cheap (less than £60) DVD writer. Then the rest of the money can go on books. MMmmm Shiny. Reccommendations and opinions re. DVD writers appreciated :)

Birthday stuff spread out over the weekend, which was weird and left Sunday (my actual birthday) feeling rather anticlimatic, but I still had a nice time. Friday was all you can eat at cafe de china. Was lovely. Pork Dumplings are *excellent* :D Saturday was lunch at fish and chip place in Whitstable then Fireworks at tyler hill (sooooo cool :D) and soup back at mine afterwards. I even got a birthday message over the PA at the fireworks (the kids wouldn't stop talking about it this morning ;)) I also went on teacups :D Yesterday ben and I had lunch at the Jackdaw in Denton again, followed by a to Kent International Airport at Manston (a former RAF base) which feels seedy (like an airport in the middle of nowhere in the US which recieves one flight a day ;)), has no road signs pointing to the places you need to know about and charges you 60p for a small chocolate bar. The only upside is that we didn't get charged for parking (machines were being spacky). We got a beffan who had been staying with Moof and had much laughs and had a macdonalds dinner. A busy, fun weekend :)

In other news I've taken up knitting again (those who have known me for a while know I go through this phase once every couple of years and do it badly before getting bored and dropping it after two weeks). Things are going better and for the time being I'm trying to make a scarf. Knitting is good anti-irc therapy cos it keeps my fingers busy and not missing a keyboard.

I also have chosen the pattern for my bridesmaids dresses (thanks to rahslowe). Now I just need to order it. Found out I cant sing in choir concert this term cos it's teh same day as Ben and Claire's wedding. I love singing but I'd much rather be at the Tanner's special day.

For of those of you who know about last year and are wondering about my mental health I'm still quite up and down - more up than down now, but I still have some bad days, usually triggered by a situation I can't deal with. Ben is very supportive and I'm definately beating this thing. One of my worst problems now is getting frustrated with myself that I'm not completely better now, I thought it would just go away when I was removed from the situation, which is not the case as those of you who have been ill with this will testify to. At least now I'm mostly up and hopefully with the help of my councellor I will beat it for good soon :)

Busy week coming up - two essays to research and write, a letter to write about volunteering in sue's school and I'm sure there's other stuff I meant to do. There are certainly some difficult decisions coming up. We'll just have to see what happens.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......splat?

[edit] This would appear to have been a proper update o.o

Congratulations! You have St. Anthony's Fire! Today
known Ergotism, this illness is caught
through ingestion of a fungal infection of grain,
usually rye. If you are not already, you
soom are going to be suffering from dizziness,
hallucinations, and a sensation of burning in
the limbs, thus giving the disease its name. It
could result in gangrene. The good news: there
is a 60% chance you will survive it! The bad
news? You will wish you had not. You will have
lingering symptoms for the rest of your life,
including mental impairment and being more
susceptible to it in the future rather than
having immunity. You probably live in a rural
town undergoing a very wet winter to have
caught this skin-reddening sickness.


Which Medieval Plague Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

In other news, I've been better. Generally those who need to know, know why. I'll pull up evetually and it's hardly worth going into the reasons because the last thing I need at the moment is for things to get worse.

Dr Ormrod said I should do another project. Bah :|

Need to do chores today. Off I go to do those... ------> :P

New piccies up on my website - here for the few of the foorah party and here for Goole's river.

Had nice talk with Pete yesterday cos he came to work with me and that was very jibbly :)

Muddle of emotions at the moment. Small things can seem huge and set me off or not. Recovery sometimes as hard as being ill :| Therefore not going to go in to stuff here, needless to say I'm greatful for ben and foo and rah and all the rest of my friends for putting up with me.

..but today I was absolutely fuming. Livid or Furious are good words to describe the state I was in, and thinking about it logically I can't even work out why I was so very very angry over this incident.

Today I had my Museum and Heratage seminar thingy and there's a clique of three people who always sit together in the seminar and talk half way through. I don't like them and they strike me as unpleasent in not what they say, but how they say it. At the end of the seminar (which was quite dull in itself) Dr Ormrod was trying to work out who would do a group presentation on which subject. I volunteered right at the beginning to do the one for next week but noone volunteered to help and so I assumed one of the duds who never turns up would be assigned to me, which was bad enough. Anyway, the clique who had been talking very loudly in their corner lost the tussel for the presentation they wanted and immediately expressed interest in mine. Dr Ormrod said only two of the three could do it with me because of the number in the group as a whole. To be honest I was a bit angry already because they didn't want the presentation until most other options had been removed from them. Then I went to exchange email addys to find the other person telling me that *She* had to be in our group becasue the only things left were in the last two weeks and she couldn't do those cos she wouldn't be here. So for this presentation which counts for 20% of my final marks I will be dictated to by a clique of people I don't like and who clearly don't like me and it will all get screwed up. There are four doing a three people (max) presentation and Dr Ormrod doesn't even know. I know my personality isn't strong enough to assert my views and *win* any struggle ahead.

I'm angry. Less angry than I was, but that only means I don't want to really properly hurt people any more. I'm slowly calming down. I scared myself with how angry I was. *growl*

I just don't know what to do :(

Katherine Jaxteran - The Guardian Angel
Once a great millitary leader, you have found
yourself discovering some truth in you and see
things with a unique perspective. You are a
Progenitor, but prefer to follow your Empathic
nature rather than your raw manipluation. You
are now a pacifist, a natural diplomat, who is
loved by your friends and enemies like, but you
have a sad heart, of being lonely in a world of
chaos. You are the healer.

Millitary Division - Navy.
Millitary Department - Command.
Weapon of Choice - Mind.

Strength - 3.
Dexterity - 7.
Intelligence - 9.
Wisdom - 10.
Honour - 10.
Soul - 10.


What Felexian Hero are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

In other news I think I'm coming down with freshers flu - in my case this takes the form of a nasty barking tickly cough that makes my chest hurt.

My diss marks are supposed to be in my college pidgeon hole sometime today so I'm feeling a bit sick about that.

Having a down day in general today - part of a bad week cos of various stuff. Don't mean to be cryptic but it's not stuff I can really talk about.

Keeping busy trying to sort CompSoc stuff and doing prelim reading.

Tom saw the name "milton keynes" this morning and asked if that was the famous amusement park *grin*

Um...that's it ;)

Well I'm in the Library starting off a new Uni year (for me) in traditional style with procrastination from my reccommended reading.

So..um..what is going on with me I hear you ask.

Not a lot is the answer (now you see why I've not updated for a while ;))

I finished work at Andrew Reeves (the posh Belgravia estate agents) tho my last day was slightly marred by the people at Victoria trying to give me a penalty fare. I got on the train without a valid ticket cos otherwise I would have missed my train, fully intending to pay when I got to Victoria. When I got there and went to pay for my return ticket I got pulled to one side and treated like a criminal cos it's (apparently, tho I didn't know this) an offense to get on a train without a ticket if the ticket office is open. SO they said I needed to pay a penalty fare even though I tried to explain I would have missed my train and been late for work. They just carried on saying I'd need to pay the penalty fare and it got too much and I started to cry. The guy looked at me like I was putting it on...and then to cap the indignity I started to hyperventalate big time. My head started to tingle and I couldn't stand up so I sat down and all teh time he's watching me like I'm faking it. Eventually the two ticket barrier guys come over and ask me what's up and I try to tell them while not being able to breathe and one of them brings me some water (which I nearly choked on cos my breathing was so irregular by this point) and they argued with the Penalty Fare guy about it and eventually let me ppay just for my return ticket. Evetually, when I was sufficiently calm to stand again I started to go and the Penalty Fare guy looks at me, glares and says "that won't work again you know". Like I was doing it on purpose >.< I can think of better places to make myself look undignified, stupid and immature...

Beffan met me from work that day tho, so things started to improve :) We scandalised the carrage of our train with our talk ;)

Anyway, I saw Phantom of the Opera on Monday evening and it was absolutely magnificent. At the end I felt so sorry for the Phantom. I didn't have a great view from the balcony so I want to go again and sit in the stalls. Still, it took my breath away. It was brilliant.

Les Miserables was Tuesday's show and that was even better than Phantom, and very different. I saw this one from the stalls and had a wonderful view, and at the end the show had a standing Ovation. I didn't like the Older Cosette, but JVJ and Javert were great and Marius...*happy sigh* It made me cry more than once. It was overwhelming.

Came back to canterbury on Saturday and left behind a whole shedload of stuff :o(

Beffan is staying ATM and that is great :D

Rah cooked a lovely roast beef dinner yesterday which was *YUMYUM* :D and today is her 1st wedding anniversary - the weather a year ago today was much much nicer ;)

Speaking of weddings, ben and I have talked to the Vicar who will marry us on Friday and booked the wedding for the 3rd September 2005 at 3pm. The most complicated question of the whole thing for me was "Are you baptised" which ellicited the response "yes, no, possibly, not sure, maybe?" (see my history as a mormon for further explanation ;))

Mum found something to stop herself getting bored over the weekend - taking piccies of piccies and putting them up on her site. These include baby pics of me and pill, which is the reason the link will *NOT* be included here ;)

Ben and I watched Battle of Britain yesterday - top film :D

Umm...I'm sure there's other stuff I ment to include and forgot, in which case I may add it later :)

( obligatory LJ quiz )