Hurworag!

What to write, what to write….

You may, dear reader, have the feeling that I’ve been quite secretive about something lately. You would be quite right =)

I was talking to Andrew earlier this week, about blogging. I really do like writing my blog, but I realise my posts don’t actually say all that much. You see, blogging is a minefield.

Let’s face facts. None of us are happy, all of the time. There are things that annoy us, things that get us down, and there are people in our lives that, despite our best efforts to think positive, warm thoughts about, we really wouldn’t mind giving a bit of a slap every now and then.

Or every day, even. Admit it to yourself. You know someone you’d like to slap. It’s most likely someone you work with.

Not that I’m saying anything about anyone I may possibly work with. Not at all.

When you have a blog like this, it’s hard to be truly honest. Not only do I not want to bore my visitors with trivial little complaints (ie: “my nose hurts” or “I stubbed my toe” or “I accidentally burned off all of my hair with a soldering iron”) but when you are, essentially, openly broadcasting your diary, you can get yourself into a lot of hot water.

So when I sit down to type, the thing that has been foremost on my mind for the past hour, or day, or week, may not be what I type about. Instead, I will talk nonsense about cheese or animal sacrifices to appease vengeful gods.

OK, perhaps not animal sacrifices to appease vengeful gods. I’m more likely to write about knitting.

It would be different if people I knew in ‘real life’ didn’t read my blog. Not that I would use this website to slag people off (though, let’s admit, that could be quite fun) - it can also be difficult to write about brilliant, happy things.

Things like, for example, a new boyfriend.

Because, hypothetically speaking of course, you are worried about hurting other people who may read your blog (though they most likely realise that really isn’t appropriate anymore). You may also be worried about this (completely fictional) new boyfriend reading your blog, where your youthful over-exuberance may be taken as crazed psycho bunny-killer characteristics.

But then, with a topic such as a new boyfriend, you could get yourself into hot water by not talking about it. Said fictional boyfriend could read your blog, and not see a single mention of himself in it, and think “Well then, madam. You write extensively about cheese and knitting, but don’t mention me or my manly physique at all, not even once. So take your Dairylea cheese triangle, and your shapeless rainbow-striped jumper, and stick it!”

It’s all just too hard sometimes, isn’t it? Sigh. Bridget Jones should think herself lucky there was no blogging, or texting, or Facebook in her day (I’m talking about the novel, not the film). I’m sure she’d have gone really quite mad.

Here I come, positively bouncing with energy after my first Great North Run training session.

No, really, it was good! I’ve been snooping around on the Bupa website, and they have lots of handy training plans. I’m starting with the 3 mile plan, which lasts for 8 weeks, then I’m intending to move on to the 6 mile plan, which also runs for 8 weeks, before finally moving on to the half marathon training plan which lasts for a whole 12 weeks. Blimey.

Luckily, spring is most definitely in the air. I woke up yesterday to see sunlight (actual sunlight!) cutting in through my windows. Most unusually for me I seized the day, pulled on my stunning new cropped running pant thingies, and hauled Mrs Bike out of the garage for a 5 mile jaunt in the sun. It was still a bit nippy, but for February, it was quite nice.

In the afternoon I trotted up to Durham (well, drove, in Muriel. I’m not that fit) for running shoes. Both Janine and Neil had recommended a shop there, called Track n Terrain, where I could get a bit of advice and some really snazzy shoes, instead of being fobbed off with any old rubbish that’d reduce my feet to blisters the second I stepped out of the door.

After having my feet (and flamingo socks) assessed, and marching around the shop in man pairs of shoes, I plumped for a pair of silvery grey and bright blue trainers. They’re so comfy I think I might wear them to work. And bed! I’ve also got a scary bra that is not attractive in the slightest, but it really holds the girls down so I don’t suppose I can complain that much.

All of this physical activity has had a bit of a knock-on effect on my knitting. I took the Violently Bright Scarf to Kristen’s birthday party last night (think Lord of the Flies, with lipgloss) which was a fun Saturday night. I booted the kids off the Sing It! High School Musical Wii game aharharhar. I think Lisa was embarassed for me, but whatevs. Everyone likes a bit of Troy Bolton.

I’ve also finally finished the baby hats I was knitting for Katherine. She’s due next week, so I’d best get them wrapped up and delivered quickly! I’m not too pleased with them really, but I’m a bit stumped for ideas so as mean as it sounds I’m in a “that’ll have to do” sort of mood. That just leaves me with my own Branching Out, which I’m knitting in a smudgey blue Kidsilk Haze, and a stack of patterns in my Ravelry queue.

Perhaps I’ll be one of those odd folk who jog along as they knit? Though I don’t suppose a knitting needle to the left ventricle will really help me with my training plan.

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All this talk of holidays left, right, and centre! I’m feeling the urge to go and buy my standard SPF 50 (lead-based paint) and jet off somewhere.

Laura messaged yesterday. She’s in Washington DC at the moment and is planning her journey to Memphis. Neil has just finished packing for his 3-week adventure to New Zealand, starting tomorrow. Andrew’s been discussing the finer points of a summer holiday, Leigh was looking at flights and hotels this lunchtime, and Jill has just got back from her first-ever skiing trip.

I’d really like to go on a skiing holiday, even if I just got to sit in some alpine lodge and drink hot chocolate, while everyone else does an excellent job of whizzing down a mountainside for my enjoyment. However since I’m really quite accident prone, not many people (ie: none) are exactly willing to go anywhere icy and slidey with me. Sigh.

Sheesh. Ysolda has just got back from a skiing trip, too!

Of course, the downside to a skiing holday is that there’s no warm beach to nap on. And a nap on a slowly cooling, late afternoon beach is always nice.

Speaking of naps, I’m going to trot off to bed early. I had a Most Excellent night out last night but didn’t get to bed until late, and though I had an equally excellent sleep I also had an early start this morning. All of this has made me one Sleepy Joe! I’ll hopefully return with a slightly more energetic blog post at some point over the weekend. If you’d like to receive updates from my rarely-updated blog, why not subscribe to my RSS feed? Go on, be a devil!

I got an email this morning telling me that I’ve been ‘awarded’ (hah) a place in the Bupa Great North Run 2009. Horrors. A quick text to Janine and transatlantic text to Laura confirmed that they, too, are in. Arron has managed to escape though - I assume they give priority to us lucky local folk. Woo.

Not that I’m backing out: I said I’ll do it, so I’ll do it.

But, first things first. I suppose I’d better go and get myself some running shoes. And one hell of a sports bra.

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Aloha!

Once again, I’m here with a post re: my lack of posting.

Last weekend, I had one of my (quite regular) “my God I’m a mess” freakouts. My God I’m A Mess Freakouts™ mean I spend a full afternoon just sorting myself out: filing and polishing nails; plucking eyebrows; properly conditioning and blowdrying hair; applying a face mask; moisturising my poor, very-rarely-moisturised body; and floating around in a dressing gown, occasionally flashing innocent bystanders. I barely touched the PC (I did check my Facebook a couple of times, because of Laura, but more on that later) and only did a little bit of knitting: some straightforward knit-one-purl-oneing on Kristen’s violently bright scarf.

Happily, my hair is starting to grow out a bit after December’s “my God I look like a button mushroom” fiasco. It’s a bit pouffed up in the picture, because I’d only just finished blowdrying. Volume!

Oui, so, after my day of sorting myself out, I had a little jaunt out with Lisa, a little night out on Sunday, and a merry enough week at work, and here I am!

All week it’s seemed as though everywhere in the country, bar the little patch I call home, has enjoyed/endured record snowfall. Today, it was finally our turn!

Snow fell steadily at times, heavily at others, from 10.30 am onwards. I tottered out at lunchtime for a Marks & Spencer’s dash (tights emergency) inappropriately dressed in a skirt, no tights (that was the emergency) ballet pumps, and a coat. Oh, and a top of course. Basically what I’m saying is I wasn’t wearing proper shoes, a hat, scarf or gloves because yes, I know it’s winter but the silly weather folk decided not to tell me it was going to snow like something out of Dickens. I went back to work after lunch but skittered out early once an email came round telling those of us who live out of town to leave if we could, before the usual rush-hour snarl up, which is less than fun in snowy weather.

When I lived close to work, I used to think the “I live out of town!” excuse was such a cop-out. I still do, to a certain extent, but it did make sense for me to just sling my laptop and notebook in a bag and head home to carry on working, instead of taking an hour to complete the same journey at 5 pm. And so I gave the kitchen a quick whizz over with disinfectant (each team takes a turn, and it’s my turn tomorrow, only I’ll be in York), chucked the manky teatowels into a bag, loaded myself up with my laptop and handbag and a million highlighter pens, and headed out into the BLEAK MIDWINTER.

On reaching the car park, my little French bean did not look très happy.

I’m just taking a brief pause there, because I stupidly just Googled something, using the same browser tab as I’m using to type this, and thought I’d lost my blog post. Miraculously, I haven’t, but I’m taking a second to breathe.

So… no, Muriel didn’t look too thrilled to be out in the snow. Her usual je nais se quoi had been smothered by a big ol’ blanket of CHILLYWILLIES. Luckily, I always keep a shower squeegee in my door pocket (don’t ask) so was able to swipe her windows clear and zip off, via le petrol station, of course.

We only had one Skidding Incident all the way home, when Muriel decided she quite wanted to break through my neighbour’s deer railings as I turned into our street. Our house is a new build and our road hasn’t been surfaced yet, so it can be a bit slippy-slidey in cold weather. Luckily I managed to stop my wayward vehicle from popping in to say a cheery “Bonjour!” to the neighbours, reversed back off the pavement, put her back on the right track, and rumbled on up our drive.

Zut alors! An interesting fact for you. Muriel, a Citroën C3 Pluriel, is descended from the original ‘umbrella on wheels’ - the Citroën Deux Chevaux (or 2CV). The 2CV was designed to “be able to carry four people (or sheep) and a basket of eggs across a ploughed field without breaking any shells.” On saying that, I can’t think if a single day I’ve ever lived where I haven’t been grateful for not being an egg.

I’m not traipsing in to work tomorrow, as Fridays are now Uni days. My new module is a bit bizarre. It’s called Self Concept and Interpersonal Skills, which is relevant, but it’s taken by a Counselling lecturer so it’s a bit… touchy feely. As much as I’m an emotional person, and acknowledge how I’m feeling plays a major role in how I work (or don’t), I couldn’t help but feel that some of the things we did last week (TRUST GAMES!!!!) were a bit silly. Still, the lecturer seems like a great bloke, and the session was interesting enough, so we’ll see how it goes. I do want to have a little mooch to the shops at lunchtime, though. My most recent Year of Adventure activity involves me buying a pair of skinny jeans. Laura is far more dramatic, jetting off to America for two months, but whatever. We’re in regular communication via text and Facebook (told you I’d get back to that eventually) and she agrees that skinny jean purchasement can very well be listed under Year of Adventure. Best of all, I’ll have to get some tops to go with them!

And that’ll just have to do, since the weather’s certainly too rubbish for me to go anywhere on the bike!

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