All choked up

31 03 2010

Nothing chokes me up more than spending time with my god-daughter, her baby sister and their Mum. All that love. All that laughter. All those comedy moments that always ensue. This weekend was one of those days. A moment of domestic bliss. My friend busying herself doing mother-type duties. I was in charge of entertainment. A master of multi-tasking, I was bouncing the baby on my knee, letting her play with the chain of beads around my neck. I was also extolling the miracle powers of the humble garden pea to my 2-year old god-daughter…when mayhem ensued.

The bouncing had dislodged a tiny soggy morsel of rice cake that the baby had been sucking on earlier. She started to choke. CHOKE. My worst fear. My friends worst fear. PANIC. To be fair it was more like a bad coughing fit, but it was action stations. The baby was tipped up, her mum’s finger in her mouth scooping out any stray soggy rice cake, I was patting her back. The baby seemed fine, so fine in fact that she only strengthened her grip on my beads, and continued tugging – and hard. So now she was fine (except for a finger in her mouth) but I was now finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. My asphyxiation was imminent. By now the baby was fine, giggling and cooing as standard. Her Mum slumped on the floor post panic. My god daughter looking at me dubiously shoveling in peas. Everyone oblivious to my plight. Thankfully my friend came to her senses and grabbed her offspring so I could loosen the noose around my neck, and live to tell the tale.


Mental note:

30 03 2010

Do not pull a funny face when staring into a web cam. You WILL live to regret it. Like I regret it EVERY time I go to the gym, and will do for the rest of my gym contract.

The long and short of it.

28 03 2010

I bought a pair of short denim shorts this weekend. It must be a result of the “tropical” temperatures affecting my better judgment. I have a rule. If you buy it and it’s not practical – you wear it as many times as you paid pound coins for it, only then can it go to the back of the cupboard or charity shop. So I decided I had to wear them in a denim short-leggings-boots and leather jacket combo. I wore them to my friend’s house. I got to the road she lives on and started walking up it. Half way up the road I realised I didn’t know the house number, but I was confident I would recognise it. So I walked a bit further up. No, not right. I turned around and walked  back the way I’d come. No, not right either, it was definitely further up. I turned around and walked up the road again. Tried to ring her. Voicemail. So I walked back down again, loitered outside a house I  thought could be her’s, but didn’t look quite right. By now a few people were watching me, in my shorts. A stranger pacing up and down the road in dubious attire for a Sunday morning. Then it dawned on me, maybe the shorts were a bit too short (they aren’t) maybe they thought I was “working the road”. Aaaarrrrrggghhh. At 11am-on-a-Sunday-morning. The perils of being a fashion victim with an overactive imagination.

Sky Mum

26 03 2010

On my walk to work there is a famous legal landmark. Quite often there are news crews outside broadcasting live, and hoards of photographers with paparazzi style lenses. It’s all very exciting. I have even seen the Sky news crew there before. I know my Mum watches Sky news in the morning. I would be lying if  I had not entertained the thought of “accidently” strolling by in the background…

(I may pop by at lunch and see if they are still there, now I have made my sign)

The Feel Good Factor

25 03 2010

The cough has gone. Sore throat, sore ears, itchy eyes and a headache have taken its place. I fear I have contracted a strain of the dreaded man-flu. Aside from the flu like symptoms my main trauma is STILL not being able to go to the gym. It is not helping my no-moaning-for-march promise. I need paracetamol and an entire packet of endorphins only available after a hectic spin class. At least tomorrow is Friday, guaranteed to help bring on the feel good factor!

The Breakfast Show

24 03 2010

Should my neighbours want to, they can look directly into my lounge/kitchen. Other then seeing me pretty much constantly eating, they probably witness some very odd behavior. Our TV (a gift from the previous tenants) has a dodgy connection at the back. I have had to fashion a hi-tech cardboard prop to keep the cable in place so we can get sound. As effective as the cardboard prop is, the telly is very sensitive to movement of any kind. So unless you, the neighbours above, the kittens, or anything in the vicinity remains stationary the TV becomes mute. Sometimes there is only one thing for it. Jumping in front of it and banging on the top. It works like a dream – but it looks pretty odd. We are getting a new telly today – hooray – so my neighbours will cease to be amused by my morning break dancing skills. It’s a shame because I secretly quite enjoy it.

Cacophony of Cats

22 03 2010

It only happens when I’m all tucked up in bed. It’s like they plan it. Like they lie in wait – their “cute furry ears” pressed to the floor. “She’s in bed. She has snuggled down… Ready…Steady…Go!” Kittens. Mad, crazy, running, jumping, sliding, galloping, racing, meeeuing creatures having a whale of a time RIGHT ABOVE MY HEAD at bed time. My bed time coincides with their mad half hour. Actually come to think of it, it has become my half hour of madness too.