Ah, it's Friday! It means most of us in dear old Blighty will be looking forward to four whole days off work - with pay! However, it turns out I've got to work tomorrow, so I'll have three whole days off work, which is almost as good. And the weather has sorted itself out just in time for an epic bank holiday. Yes, that's right - gone are the sizzling tropical temperatures, the humid air, the old men traipsing round town just wearing a little pair of shorts and socks with sandals (why oh why?!) and the threat of a nice barbecue in the back garden. The air has regained the usual summertime nippiness we're used to, the skies are a sort of charcoal grey colour and the weather has been, as they call it in Spain (Joanna reliably tells me this, and she's very good at Spanish, so she should know) "El Pissi Downio". Ah, yes. British Summertime. It's back, and I love it.
So, things are going very well. I'd like to thank Anonymous for their lovely and very encouraging comment from Wednesday's blog. It turns out that my block lifted quite substantially after that lovely advice and some equally kind and helpful tips from Mr L. Although I've still not really got a plot together yet, I have indeed made a start on the Western (tentatively entitled The Western With No Name). Turns out it had no intention of ever being a book, it wanted to be a screenplay all along. Which in some ways is slightly easier, I'm much better with dialogue than narrative, but even though you only really need minimal narrative for a screenplay I still don't think I have enough. But I'll come back to it later when I've figured out more of a structure to the story. My biggest problem is that I want it to be instantly perfect, rather than just acknowledging that the first three or four rewrites are going to be ropey at best before I get it close to being right and writing it anyway. I bet Joss Whedon didn't write The Avengers perfectly on his first run-through!!
I know what you're thinking. 'She's avoiding the weight-loss topic'. Well, yes. I am.
I put half a pound on. I have no idea how. I was doing really well, I'd been dead good, I hadn't cheated (there's no point in cheating because the only person who suffers is me) - I was at least hoping for a couple of pounds' loss. Maybe even three. But putting half a pound on?! What the -?!?!!
Baffled. Stumped. Bamboozled. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Narked. All appropriate adjectives to describe my reaction to the number on the scales yesterday.
Enrique was quite relieved I'd put weight on. He's still convinced he has athlete's hoof from when I sent them swimming last Friday and has taken to his bed with bandages from hoof to fetlock on all four of his little legs. The rest of the llamas were delighted to have another week off and have all gone on a coach holiday to Blackpool for the weekend. If you're in the Blackpool area and come across a collective of llamas in gold lamee leg warmers, go and join them, they're a great bunch of lads!!
I mean, things aren't all bad news. I'm getting smaller. If I'm honest with myself about my original starting size (i.e. Beyond Huge. If there was a dress size that could be renamed "AY CHIHUAHA!!" that'd probably be where I was!), I've actually lost three dress sizes already and I'm probably only another stone away from hitting the fourth. So actually I've not done at all badly. It's just one of those things. Maybe it was just the way I held my gob when I stood on the scales. Who knows. I'm lots thinner than I was, and that's a fact. I just need to be... you know. Thinner than this. And I will be. This time in three months I might've lost another two sizes and then I'll be very nearly almost there.
You know what it'll involve, of course. I've been threatening it and then putting it off since January, but I am actually going to have to... I can't even bring myself to say it. You know, though. And I know. It's got to be done, there's truly nothing else for it. I have plans and extremely good intentions, I just have no willpower!! I hate running, walking round an industrial estate is no fun, and I'm just not disciplined enough to attempt any form of E***cise at home!! Gah!! That blasted E word. Why is it never fun?! If I could do the E word and not notice I was doing it, that'd be brilliant!
Ho hum.
Join me next Wednesday, if you don't mind. I'll be taking Monday off due to the Bank Holiday and I'll probably still be in a very dark state of depression following my birthday on Sunday. I get SO depressed on my birthday, there's literally no point in even acknowledging my existence, you'll only end up similarly suicidal! I don't want to be old! Don't make me!! Nooooo!!! PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DO IT!!!
I dread to even think how I'll cope next year when I hit the big Three-Oh...!! *shudder*
Friday, 1 June 2012
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Writer's Block
It's driving me IN-FLIPPIN'-SANE!!
For anyone who's had any contact with me over the last few weeks and I've seemed a little distracted and non-conversational, or you've wondered where my three hundred word text messages had gone to and why I haven't spoken to anyone unless it's been completely necessary - I CAN'T WRITE!! My brain can't even process enough thought to hold a proper conversation at the moment, let alone actually write anything. This may seem like a really trivial thing to you, and I apologise if you're bored already - especially because I can't even explain why it's so important that I do write. That's not a pretentious, pseudo-artistic 'if you don't write, you wouldn't understand' type excuse, it's true. I can articulate most things, but just not why I need to write.
It isn't that I haven't got any ideas at all. I've got vague thoughts for stories, books, scripts, sketches - you name it - in spades. But I don't have full ideas. I don't have enough of any one idea to be able to write one word. The floodgates of the imagination are simply groaning with the effort of keeping the plethora of sentences that are stored up in my brain - if only I could hold onto ONE sentence long enough for it to blossom into a fully formed idea, rather than simply remaining stagnant as the beginning of a maybe.
ARGH!!! It's the most frustrating thing ever.
Having ideas, being able to write, writing itself is probably one of the most liberating things ever. That really irritating moment (everyone who writes must have gone through this at some stage) of waking up at two o'clock in the morning and HAVING to get all those ideas down before your brain explodes under the weight of them - yes, it's a pain when your body needs sleep but your brain won't stop whirring into overdrive. Still, nothing makes me feel more alive than my fingertips flying across the keyboard, the eyes almost glazed over as the old imagination completely takes over body and soul, and before I know it I've actually created something, a person, a world and an adventure and I look back at it and think, "Woah, when did I write that?!"
When I read it back again in the morning, I might wince and think "Oh dear, when did I write that?!" but the fact is, I wrote something and the idea got out into the open.
It's like part of my brain has totally switched off. This year started out so creatively, I wrote loads in The Phantom Winger, Adam and I wrote Slim Chance (hey, top 10% out of over 800 entrants is no mean feat!), I've written the liner notes for Nathan's album (released officially on 4th June, physical copies are already in circulation and are available at the album launch on 2nd June). But then it's all sort of stopped.
There are things I really want to write, but I can't. I want to write more in The Phantom Winger - Alex's adventure hasn't even begun yet and I'm only about five paragraphs away from breaking the block on it!! I want to rewrite Slim Chance but I know that's pretty much on hold till Mr Leslie comes back from his sojourn to the colonies - which is fine because it's probably still a bit too fresh in my mind for me to be objective enough for a rewrite just yet.
I really want to write a Western. I've wanted to write one for years, for my Dad. We've always watched Westerns together and he loves stories about cowboys and I thought it would really make him happy if I wrote him a story - but it's taken me forever to get an idea. Now, I've sort of almost got a plot together, I've got an idea about what I might call my main character, and I've got a basic theme for the story... but that's it, I've not got anything definite, I've not had that light-bulb flash, Eureka style moment to spur me on (no pun intended) to write something that'd make Big Aitch proud. I know Westerns are probably the most difficult things to write because there are so many rules with a Western, and they require years of detailed research before you even settle down to writing anything in it. All of those obstacles, coupled with the fact I've grown up in Central Lancashire and as much as I turn into a pile of mush at the very thought of a Southern State accent, I simply don't know if I would ever be fluent enough in the Southern vernacular to make my dialogue convincing. I don't think I'm cut out to write it - but that's the thing my brain keeps telling me needs to be written. Even though I still haven't got enough of anything to start writing it yet.
You know what I need? I need a month or two in Texas. On an entirely academic, research-driven basis, and not just because I've been desperate to go to Texas since forever. Certainly not because it's the home of barbecue sauce. Or because it's filled with the sounds of the most incredible accent ever. Gosh, no. Whatever'd give you that idea?!
Basically, all my ideas are just too vague to even think about formulating a sentence with - let alone trying to eke them out into a story/script/whatever.
I'm sorry this has turned into such a big rant. I know people have real problems out there and that I shouldn't really whinge so much about it - but it's seriously doing my head in. Perhaps ranting about it will help it shift. I flippin' hope so.
Please join me on Friday, when I'll give you a report from Fat Club and take an excited look towards four whole days off work for the Jubilee weekend. Wasn't it nice of Her Majesty to know that I'd be so depressed about my birthday on Sunday that I wouldn't want to do any work for a couple of days - and subsequently arrange her Jubilee celebrations accordingly?!
For anyone who's had any contact with me over the last few weeks and I've seemed a little distracted and non-conversational, or you've wondered where my three hundred word text messages had gone to and why I haven't spoken to anyone unless it's been completely necessary - I CAN'T WRITE!! My brain can't even process enough thought to hold a proper conversation at the moment, let alone actually write anything. This may seem like a really trivial thing to you, and I apologise if you're bored already - especially because I can't even explain why it's so important that I do write. That's not a pretentious, pseudo-artistic 'if you don't write, you wouldn't understand' type excuse, it's true. I can articulate most things, but just not why I need to write.
It isn't that I haven't got any ideas at all. I've got vague thoughts for stories, books, scripts, sketches - you name it - in spades. But I don't have full ideas. I don't have enough of any one idea to be able to write one word. The floodgates of the imagination are simply groaning with the effort of keeping the plethora of sentences that are stored up in my brain - if only I could hold onto ONE sentence long enough for it to blossom into a fully formed idea, rather than simply remaining stagnant as the beginning of a maybe.
ARGH!!! It's the most frustrating thing ever.
Having ideas, being able to write, writing itself is probably one of the most liberating things ever. That really irritating moment (everyone who writes must have gone through this at some stage) of waking up at two o'clock in the morning and HAVING to get all those ideas down before your brain explodes under the weight of them - yes, it's a pain when your body needs sleep but your brain won't stop whirring into overdrive. Still, nothing makes me feel more alive than my fingertips flying across the keyboard, the eyes almost glazed over as the old imagination completely takes over body and soul, and before I know it I've actually created something, a person, a world and an adventure and I look back at it and think, "Woah, when did I write that?!"
When I read it back again in the morning, I might wince and think "Oh dear, when did I write that?!" but the fact is, I wrote something and the idea got out into the open.
It's like part of my brain has totally switched off. This year started out so creatively, I wrote loads in The Phantom Winger, Adam and I wrote Slim Chance (hey, top 10% out of over 800 entrants is no mean feat!), I've written the liner notes for Nathan's album (released officially on 4th June, physical copies are already in circulation and are available at the album launch on 2nd June). But then it's all sort of stopped.
There are things I really want to write, but I can't. I want to write more in The Phantom Winger - Alex's adventure hasn't even begun yet and I'm only about five paragraphs away from breaking the block on it!! I want to rewrite Slim Chance but I know that's pretty much on hold till Mr Leslie comes back from his sojourn to the colonies - which is fine because it's probably still a bit too fresh in my mind for me to be objective enough for a rewrite just yet.
I really want to write a Western. I've wanted to write one for years, for my Dad. We've always watched Westerns together and he loves stories about cowboys and I thought it would really make him happy if I wrote him a story - but it's taken me forever to get an idea. Now, I've sort of almost got a plot together, I've got an idea about what I might call my main character, and I've got a basic theme for the story... but that's it, I've not got anything definite, I've not had that light-bulb flash, Eureka style moment to spur me on (no pun intended) to write something that'd make Big Aitch proud. I know Westerns are probably the most difficult things to write because there are so many rules with a Western, and they require years of detailed research before you even settle down to writing anything in it. All of those obstacles, coupled with the fact I've grown up in Central Lancashire and as much as I turn into a pile of mush at the very thought of a Southern State accent, I simply don't know if I would ever be fluent enough in the Southern vernacular to make my dialogue convincing. I don't think I'm cut out to write it - but that's the thing my brain keeps telling me needs to be written. Even though I still haven't got enough of anything to start writing it yet.
You know what I need? I need a month or two in Texas. On an entirely academic, research-driven basis, and not just because I've been desperate to go to Texas since forever. Certainly not because it's the home of barbecue sauce. Or because it's filled with the sounds of the most incredible accent ever. Gosh, no. Whatever'd give you that idea?!
Basically, all my ideas are just too vague to even think about formulating a sentence with - let alone trying to eke them out into a story/script/whatever.
I'm sorry this has turned into such a big rant. I know people have real problems out there and that I shouldn't really whinge so much about it - but it's seriously doing my head in. Perhaps ranting about it will help it shift. I flippin' hope so.
Please join me on Friday, when I'll give you a report from Fat Club and take an excited look towards four whole days off work for the Jubilee weekend. Wasn't it nice of Her Majesty to know that I'd be so depressed about my birthday on Sunday that I wouldn't want to do any work for a couple of days - and subsequently arrange her Jubilee celebrations accordingly?!
Monday, 28 May 2012
We're Havin' A Heatwave...
...a tropical heatwaaaave... the temperature's risin', it isn't surprisin', I certainly caaaannn...
Ahem.
Sorry. But this weather's making everything seem a bit weird. Good GRIEF it's warm. I mean, 28 degrees Celsius before noon is just ridiculous. And no, I have no idea what that is in Farenheit!!
I'm sorry for my lack of postings. It's been one of those weeks. It's been too hot for anything and my brain really doesn't function too well in hot weather. I am, after all, English. I'm not used to May being hot. It isn't meant to get hot until mid-June for about five days, then constant rain until mid-July, then miserable but hot weather with no air for three or four weeks, then more rain... then a sort of picking up again in September, before a rather nippy Autumn and a bloomin' freezing winter. This is how Britain works, weather! Get it right!!
So, anyway, weather aside, I got a little closer to my halfway mark this week by losing 2lbs. This was a lovely result and I was really pleased with it, but due to the weather it would've simply been cruel of me to ask the llamas to put on a fiesta in celebration. So I sent them to the local swimming pool armed with armbands, goggles and matching towels for a bit of a frolic and a cool down. Enrique convinced himself that he came back home with verrucas and athletes hoof, but after a (very brief) examination his hooves all seem fine. Ricardo made friends with the lifeguard on duty who had never heard of a dancing troupe of llamas before. Miguel discovered aqua-aerobics. Everyone had a lovely time. I stayed in (I can't swim and nobody will ever see me in a swimming costume, ever, not even when I get to a size 14! Just because I'm not fat still doesn't mean anyone wants to see any more of me than is absolutely necessary and unavoidable!) and had a celebratory brandy or two. It might've even ben three. Yes, I think it was. So, everyone really was happy!
I probably won't hit my halfway target by this Thursday, but that's no big deal really. It's officially too hot to care about stuff like that! I should get closer to it, though, and that's the main thing.
I wore a dress on Sunday. I admit it probably wasn't the most fashionable thing out there, but the main thing was it wasn't that godawful black maxi dress I'd worn for months when I had need to wear a dress. It was my mum's, and before you start rolling your eyes, I'd coveted it for quite some time, it's really nice. I tell you a really weird thing that I may never get used to. I actually felt really feminine. I mean I know I'm a girl (the bosoms are quite a giveaway), but being of the larger persuasion the only clothes really available to a person are ones that just cover you and make you look as unobtrusive as possible. In short, clothes have never made me feel anything other than a sexless blob of nothingness. But on Sunday I looked in the mirror and even though I probably still looked a fat scruffbag, I actually felt like a woman for the first time actually ever. With curves, as opposed to being one continual curve. It's a really peculiar feeling, but I liked it. Probably one I'll never get used to, but it's really helped me to feel even more focussed than ever about getting to the goal. It's totally going to happen. This time next year during an unprecedented heatwave I might even have summer clothes in my wardrobe to go to!! Who knows!!!
Join me again on... well, I'd say Wednesday. Hopefully Wednesday, but certainly later on in the week. Dunno what I'll talk about but I'll always find SOMEthing to ramble about!!
Ahem.
Sorry. But this weather's making everything seem a bit weird. Good GRIEF it's warm. I mean, 28 degrees Celsius before noon is just ridiculous. And no, I have no idea what that is in Farenheit!!
I'm sorry for my lack of postings. It's been one of those weeks. It's been too hot for anything and my brain really doesn't function too well in hot weather. I am, after all, English. I'm not used to May being hot. It isn't meant to get hot until mid-June for about five days, then constant rain until mid-July, then miserable but hot weather with no air for three or four weeks, then more rain... then a sort of picking up again in September, before a rather nippy Autumn and a bloomin' freezing winter. This is how Britain works, weather! Get it right!!
So, anyway, weather aside, I got a little closer to my halfway mark this week by losing 2lbs. This was a lovely result and I was really pleased with it, but due to the weather it would've simply been cruel of me to ask the llamas to put on a fiesta in celebration. So I sent them to the local swimming pool armed with armbands, goggles and matching towels for a bit of a frolic and a cool down. Enrique convinced himself that he came back home with verrucas and athletes hoof, but after a (very brief) examination his hooves all seem fine. Ricardo made friends with the lifeguard on duty who had never heard of a dancing troupe of llamas before. Miguel discovered aqua-aerobics. Everyone had a lovely time. I stayed in (I can't swim and nobody will ever see me in a swimming costume, ever, not even when I get to a size 14! Just because I'm not fat still doesn't mean anyone wants to see any more of me than is absolutely necessary and unavoidable!) and had a celebratory brandy or two. It might've even ben three. Yes, I think it was. So, everyone really was happy!
I probably won't hit my halfway target by this Thursday, but that's no big deal really. It's officially too hot to care about stuff like that! I should get closer to it, though, and that's the main thing.
I wore a dress on Sunday. I admit it probably wasn't the most fashionable thing out there, but the main thing was it wasn't that godawful black maxi dress I'd worn for months when I had need to wear a dress. It was my mum's, and before you start rolling your eyes, I'd coveted it for quite some time, it's really nice. I tell you a really weird thing that I may never get used to. I actually felt really feminine. I mean I know I'm a girl (the bosoms are quite a giveaway), but being of the larger persuasion the only clothes really available to a person are ones that just cover you and make you look as unobtrusive as possible. In short, clothes have never made me feel anything other than a sexless blob of nothingness. But on Sunday I looked in the mirror and even though I probably still looked a fat scruffbag, I actually felt like a woman for the first time actually ever. With curves, as opposed to being one continual curve. It's a really peculiar feeling, but I liked it. Probably one I'll never get used to, but it's really helped me to feel even more focussed than ever about getting to the goal. It's totally going to happen. This time next year during an unprecedented heatwave I might even have summer clothes in my wardrobe to go to!! Who knows!!!
Join me again on... well, I'd say Wednesday. Hopefully Wednesday, but certainly later on in the week. Dunno what I'll talk about but I'll always find SOMEthing to ramble about!!
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Continuing
Title © Robert Michael Nesmith, from the 1973 album Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash.
OOF!
It's been a hectic few days to say the least. I think I've driven around the world and back in the last 48 hours. I've been driving in my sleep! Not literally, folks - it's dangerous and definitely not recommended practice for anyone to try at home. Or even on the road.
You probably have heard me lament about the fact I don't have a car any more, but circumstances dictated the need for me to get one quick sharp yesterday. Apparently trying to squeeze 8 people into a 5-seater car is a bit too much to ask of any vehicle. So I hired a car for the day. It was gorgeous. Even before I closed the door and got my seat belt on, I was in love. I called him Stirling (yes, all my cars are boys, and yes, I name them all. What of it? I had a gay Kia Picanto called Buttercup once!), after Craig Stirling from The Champions. I'm in a bit of a Champions phase at the moment, and although I'm a Richard Barrett girl, Craig is pretty easy on the eye and a bit smooth - plus the fact the car was silver, so it sort of had to be Stirling. He suited it. I gave him back this morning. I nearly cried.
I think I've alluded to the fact something big has happened in the Wainwright family over the last couple of weeks but I haven't actually explained myself. However, to bring you all up to speed - my cousin, David, sadly passed away after a very short illness a couple of weeks ago. It came as a huge shock to the entire family. From what I understand, he was right as rain on the Saturday, felt a little poorly on Sunday, felt a little worse on Monday, was in the Critical Care Unit on Tuesday and died on the Friday. I mean - really. Shock. It was his funeral yesterday and two of my cousins came up from London for the event. It's always lovely to spend time with Gill and Angela, especially with the big sister too - we're all more than relatives, we're really good friends and we have such a great laugh together, it's just a shame the circumstances were so horrid this time.
I don't want to dwell on the day, although it was lovely to see so many family members, there's never anything nice about funerals and you don't really want to know the ins and outs of the day's events. However, there was a huge turnout for him - there were well over 100 people there, and even though we're a huge family (more than a family - a clan. Maybe even a country. Wainwrightia!), there were a lot of friends and former colleagues etc that turned up too.
I thought that was a really lovely testament to David's life. Everyone who ever came into contact with him during his life couldn't help but love him. He was a sweet, gentle soul, who adored his wife and his two gorgeous girls more than anything else. Some people come into this world and invent things, or develop ideas, or write something or draw something or create the most exquisite music or most thought-provoking, life-changing film that becomes timeless - but when those people die, people remember the things they achieved with great fondness, but remember the person with significant coolness, disdain or even hatred. David might not have re-invented the wheel or anything so grand as that, but he made people happier just for knowing him, and there's really no greater legacy any of us can leave than to have people say about us, "That person was one of the nicest people I ever knew," or "I'm really going to miss their smile/hugs/laugh." We'll all miss those things about David.
Incidentally, and now on another note entirely, my apologies for not posting on Monday. It had been a rather eventful weekend due to my sister's altercation with a bottle of hair dye - and although I was really looking forward to dramatising the whole sorry affair for you all, sadly I had about five trillion tapes to type up at work so that I could have yesterday off so I just didn't get time. But I'm back now, and please don't think my lack of posting on Monday was a lack of dedication to the blogging/dieting cause. Oh no. Far from it, my eyes are firmly fixed on the prize and I'm back on the straight and narrow with a vengeance. Admittedly, I did go slightly over my Syns limit on Saturday but I've been very good the rest of the time and have had far fewer Syns than the recommended 15 so I think it'll balance out. I might maintain this week or possibly even lose a tiny bit of weight. I'm hoping for 2lbs. Dunno if I'll get it but so long as I don't put any on it'll be all right!
Join me again on Friday, after The Big Weigh-In, when hopefully the llamas will have all come up with a lovely new dance routine for you all to join in with the dancing and shake your maracas while shimmying around the living room/office/kitchen/bedroom/wherever you read this from!!
In the immortal words of Bill & Ted - Be Excellent to Each Other.
OOF!
It's been a hectic few days to say the least. I think I've driven around the world and back in the last 48 hours. I've been driving in my sleep! Not literally, folks - it's dangerous and definitely not recommended practice for anyone to try at home. Or even on the road.
You probably have heard me lament about the fact I don't have a car any more, but circumstances dictated the need for me to get one quick sharp yesterday. Apparently trying to squeeze 8 people into a 5-seater car is a bit too much to ask of any vehicle. So I hired a car for the day. It was gorgeous. Even before I closed the door and got my seat belt on, I was in love. I called him Stirling (yes, all my cars are boys, and yes, I name them all. What of it? I had a gay Kia Picanto called Buttercup once!), after Craig Stirling from The Champions. I'm in a bit of a Champions phase at the moment, and although I'm a Richard Barrett girl, Craig is pretty easy on the eye and a bit smooth - plus the fact the car was silver, so it sort of had to be Stirling. He suited it. I gave him back this morning. I nearly cried.
I think I've alluded to the fact something big has happened in the Wainwright family over the last couple of weeks but I haven't actually explained myself. However, to bring you all up to speed - my cousin, David, sadly passed away after a very short illness a couple of weeks ago. It came as a huge shock to the entire family. From what I understand, he was right as rain on the Saturday, felt a little poorly on Sunday, felt a little worse on Monday, was in the Critical Care Unit on Tuesday and died on the Friday. I mean - really. Shock. It was his funeral yesterday and two of my cousins came up from London for the event. It's always lovely to spend time with Gill and Angela, especially with the big sister too - we're all more than relatives, we're really good friends and we have such a great laugh together, it's just a shame the circumstances were so horrid this time.
I don't want to dwell on the day, although it was lovely to see so many family members, there's never anything nice about funerals and you don't really want to know the ins and outs of the day's events. However, there was a huge turnout for him - there were well over 100 people there, and even though we're a huge family (more than a family - a clan. Maybe even a country. Wainwrightia!), there were a lot of friends and former colleagues etc that turned up too.
I thought that was a really lovely testament to David's life. Everyone who ever came into contact with him during his life couldn't help but love him. He was a sweet, gentle soul, who adored his wife and his two gorgeous girls more than anything else. Some people come into this world and invent things, or develop ideas, or write something or draw something or create the most exquisite music or most thought-provoking, life-changing film that becomes timeless - but when those people die, people remember the things they achieved with great fondness, but remember the person with significant coolness, disdain or even hatred. David might not have re-invented the wheel or anything so grand as that, but he made people happier just for knowing him, and there's really no greater legacy any of us can leave than to have people say about us, "That person was one of the nicest people I ever knew," or "I'm really going to miss their smile/hugs/laugh." We'll all miss those things about David.
Incidentally, and now on another note entirely, my apologies for not posting on Monday. It had been a rather eventful weekend due to my sister's altercation with a bottle of hair dye - and although I was really looking forward to dramatising the whole sorry affair for you all, sadly I had about five trillion tapes to type up at work so that I could have yesterday off so I just didn't get time. But I'm back now, and please don't think my lack of posting on Monday was a lack of dedication to the blogging/dieting cause. Oh no. Far from it, my eyes are firmly fixed on the prize and I'm back on the straight and narrow with a vengeance. Admittedly, I did go slightly over my Syns limit on Saturday but I've been very good the rest of the time and have had far fewer Syns than the recommended 15 so I think it'll balance out. I might maintain this week or possibly even lose a tiny bit of weight. I'm hoping for 2lbs. Dunno if I'll get it but so long as I don't put any on it'll be all right!
Join me again on Friday, after The Big Weigh-In, when hopefully the llamas will have all come up with a lovely new dance routine for you all to join in with the dancing and shake your maracas while shimmying around the living room/office/kitchen/bedroom/wherever you read this from!!
In the immortal words of Bill & Ted - Be Excellent to Each Other.
Friday, 18 May 2012
Wham, Bam, Thank You, Scales!
All right, all right, I've calmed down, I've stopped whooping and cartwheeling around the living room long enough to write my Friday blog.
That's right. I have good news. Great news. That 3 1/2 lbs that was doing my head in? GONE!! BAM!!! 3 stone (that's 42lbs to my American readers and 19kgs to my...er... metric readers) in 19 weeks, that's quite good going, isn't it?
In celebration, Enrique has put together The Three Stone Fiesta. Floats, bunting, ticker-tape, sombreros, maracas, even the odd castanet. In the words of the late, great Eddie Cochrane - WOOOOO!!!! C'MON EV'RYBODYYY!!!!!!
Whoo!! Enrique, you've surpassed yourself this time, little fella!!! What a celebration!!
Right. So. This is it. 3 stone down, 4 to go. There's a very small possibility that I might still get to the halfway mark by my birthday, I've lost 7lbs in two weeks a few times so I know I can do it. I just need to try extra hard and maybe try other things like finally incorporating a bit more exercise into my daily regime and drinking water... I seem to have developed quite an addiction to Coke Zero/Pepsi Max/whatever's on offer in Morrisons at the time of purchase. No, really. Well, I've almost totally given up booze and chocolate, I haven't had pizza or crisps all year and frankly there's little left in life that's classed as being 'a bit naughty' that I can get away with having these days!!
Gah! Skinny, old and boring. Three things I thought I'd never be!
I'm so chuffed. I worked so hard to get these last few pounds boxed off, and I've done it. I've still got a really really long way to go, but it feels far more achievable now. I will get there. There's a story on the Slimming World website and in this month's Slimming World magazine about a fella about a year older than me who's lost 17 1/2 stone (245 lbs/111.13kg) in just over two years. He looks like a completely different person. I mean, blimey. I know 7 stone is a lot and roughly the size of a skinny full grown adult, but 17 1/2 stone - that's some people's starting weight when they join Slimming World!! That must've seemed like an impossible mountain to climb - and now he goes out climbing real mountains for fun!! It's incredible how much a silly thing like losing weight will change your life completely. I mean I know I've still got a huge way to go but I really feel as though this time I'll do it and that my life will change. I'll start doing things I've never done, I'll stop being afraid of trying anything new and I'll actually start walking down the road with my head up rather than hunched up, worrying about tripping over my own feet or being laughed at and heckled by vile people who felt the need to point my weight problem out to me in case I hadn't already noticed it. Seriously. It'll be all change. I just hope I'm ready for it...!!
Join me again on Monday when I'll probably not have much to report from the weekend, but I'll be looking towards a lovely family reunion under very sad circumstances and trying to stay strong in the hopes of getting closer to the 3 1/2 stone mark next Thursday night!! Have a lovely weekend, whatever you'e up to!
That's right. I have good news. Great news. That 3 1/2 lbs that was doing my head in? GONE!! BAM!!! 3 stone (that's 42lbs to my American readers and 19kgs to my...er... metric readers) in 19 weeks, that's quite good going, isn't it?
In celebration, Enrique has put together The Three Stone Fiesta. Floats, bunting, ticker-tape, sombreros, maracas, even the odd castanet. In the words of the late, great Eddie Cochrane - WOOOOO!!!! C'MON EV'RYBODYYY!!!!!!
Whoo!! Enrique, you've surpassed yourself this time, little fella!!! What a celebration!!
Right. So. This is it. 3 stone down, 4 to go. There's a very small possibility that I might still get to the halfway mark by my birthday, I've lost 7lbs in two weeks a few times so I know I can do it. I just need to try extra hard and maybe try other things like finally incorporating a bit more exercise into my daily regime and drinking water... I seem to have developed quite an addiction to Coke Zero/Pepsi Max/whatever's on offer in Morrisons at the time of purchase. No, really. Well, I've almost totally given up booze and chocolate, I haven't had pizza or crisps all year and frankly there's little left in life that's classed as being 'a bit naughty' that I can get away with having these days!!
Gah! Skinny, old and boring. Three things I thought I'd never be!
I'm so chuffed. I worked so hard to get these last few pounds boxed off, and I've done it. I've still got a really really long way to go, but it feels far more achievable now. I will get there. There's a story on the Slimming World website and in this month's Slimming World magazine about a fella about a year older than me who's lost 17 1/2 stone (245 lbs/111.13kg) in just over two years. He looks like a completely different person. I mean, blimey. I know 7 stone is a lot and roughly the size of a skinny full grown adult, but 17 1/2 stone - that's some people's starting weight when they join Slimming World!! That must've seemed like an impossible mountain to climb - and now he goes out climbing real mountains for fun!! It's incredible how much a silly thing like losing weight will change your life completely. I mean I know I've still got a huge way to go but I really feel as though this time I'll do it and that my life will change. I'll start doing things I've never done, I'll stop being afraid of trying anything new and I'll actually start walking down the road with my head up rather than hunched up, worrying about tripping over my own feet or being laughed at and heckled by vile people who felt the need to point my weight problem out to me in case I hadn't already noticed it. Seriously. It'll be all change. I just hope I'm ready for it...!!
Join me again on Monday when I'll probably not have much to report from the weekend, but I'll be looking towards a lovely family reunion under very sad circumstances and trying to stay strong in the hopes of getting closer to the 3 1/2 stone mark next Thursday night!! Have a lovely weekend, whatever you'e up to!
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Clothes Horse
This is it, folks. This is what 'back on track' looks like. A Wednesday blog and being on course for a three-post week. I'm on fire! Not literally, don't worry.
I've got back onto the green tea, I've started eating more fruit and I've kept myself to below 10 Syns per day. If I don't see at least some improvement by Friday I'll throw the blasted new scales out the window - don't try and stop me!! I may be skinnier now but I've still got the strength of a girl nearly three stone heavier than me...!! Grr!
I sort of feel like I've been a bit of an in-between size for the last couple of months. I reckon I've got about another stone to lose before I get back into my old clothes. There are two items of clothing that I'm desperate to be able to wear again - a black pinstripe shirt dress and a dogtooth skirt suit, both of which are a size 18. I'm a lot closer to both than I was five months ago, which is great. At the moment I'm wearing clothes far too big for me because I'm still trying to put off that clothes shopping trip that I know will be looming at some juncture. I'll wait. All my clothes are already at least one size too big for me, one more won't hurt. I'll go shopping when I'm officially thin enough to throw *all* my old clothes out. Or at least the majority of them. I know that sounds very wasteful, but honestly, my clothes are all so old and battered, if I sent them to the third world, they'd send 'em back with a note saying, "What do you think we are, a charity?" Cancer Research UK would blacklist me if I left any of my clothes at one of their charity shops.
At the moment I've only got one skirt, it's probably two sizes too big and when I first slimmed into it it was just above my knee. It's now halfway down my shin. It does look ridiculous. I will sort it out one day, honestly. I just want to get there first. As soon as I'm comfortably into a size 18 I'll cheerfully bin my fat clothes, get myself down the high street, walk in with my head held high and bypass the Fat Person's Clothes section and buy something that actually looks nice and not like a misshapen sack with a token handful of sequins in a feeble attempt at making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Oh, how I long for that day!
Seriously, if anyone wants to come with me to help me , that'd be great. Send all applications to the usual address and in no more than 20 words, complete the sentence, "I should take Spev clothes shopping for skinny person clothes because..." I'll even treat you to a coffee and a slice of cake from Costa while we're out by way of a thank you!
Join me on Friday when hopefully I'll at least have boxed off most of that pesky 3 1/2 lbs that's keeping me from reaching my 3 stone target. With any luck the llamas will have come up with a lovely dance routine and we can all have a great time shaking our maracas together!! Arriba!!
I've got back onto the green tea, I've started eating more fruit and I've kept myself to below 10 Syns per day. If I don't see at least some improvement by Friday I'll throw the blasted new scales out the window - don't try and stop me!! I may be skinnier now but I've still got the strength of a girl nearly three stone heavier than me...!! Grr!
I sort of feel like I've been a bit of an in-between size for the last couple of months. I reckon I've got about another stone to lose before I get back into my old clothes. There are two items of clothing that I'm desperate to be able to wear again - a black pinstripe shirt dress and a dogtooth skirt suit, both of which are a size 18. I'm a lot closer to both than I was five months ago, which is great. At the moment I'm wearing clothes far too big for me because I'm still trying to put off that clothes shopping trip that I know will be looming at some juncture. I'll wait. All my clothes are already at least one size too big for me, one more won't hurt. I'll go shopping when I'm officially thin enough to throw *all* my old clothes out. Or at least the majority of them. I know that sounds very wasteful, but honestly, my clothes are all so old and battered, if I sent them to the third world, they'd send 'em back with a note saying, "What do you think we are, a charity?" Cancer Research UK would blacklist me if I left any of my clothes at one of their charity shops.
At the moment I've only got one skirt, it's probably two sizes too big and when I first slimmed into it it was just above my knee. It's now halfway down my shin. It does look ridiculous. I will sort it out one day, honestly. I just want to get there first. As soon as I'm comfortably into a size 18 I'll cheerfully bin my fat clothes, get myself down the high street, walk in with my head held high and bypass the Fat Person's Clothes section and buy something that actually looks nice and not like a misshapen sack with a token handful of sequins in a feeble attempt at making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Oh, how I long for that day!
Seriously, if anyone wants to come with me to help me , that'd be great. Send all applications to the usual address and in no more than 20 words, complete the sentence, "I should take Spev clothes shopping for skinny person clothes because..." I'll even treat you to a coffee and a slice of cake from Costa while we're out by way of a thank you!
Join me on Friday when hopefully I'll at least have boxed off most of that pesky 3 1/2 lbs that's keeping me from reaching my 3 stone target. With any luck the llamas will have come up with a lovely dance routine and we can all have a great time shaking our maracas together!! Arriba!!
Monday, 14 May 2012
Guess Who's Back...
Hello, hello, hello!!
I'm sorry I failed on the blogging front last week. Last week was horrible. Please can we pretend it didn't happen? That would totally work for me. I know the whole purpose of the blog was to be some sort of personal therapy when times got tough as well as the chroncling of joys and euphoria when times were good - but there are reasonable limits to everything. My head is feeling really rather screwed up at the moment. Life with the Wainwrights just hasn't been the kind of thing anyone would want to blog about for the last seven days.
Aside from the stuff you don't want to know about, on Thursday's weigh-in it turned out that I had put half a pound on. The llamas were extremely disappointed. I didn't pack them off to Magaluf again this week, but Enrique did say that if I have a good result this week he'd choreograph an extra special fiesta for me. What more incentive do I need?!
My slimming mojo seems to have vanished since the Debacle of the Scales. It's ridiculous. I know it's only a little thing but it's really just thrown me off-balance - no pun intended. Just when I'd finally started to think I could really do this and I could finally start looking like a person rather than an orb with feet, it was a huge knock I wasn't prepared for. Andrea the Consultant has got a lot to answer for. I am seriously lacking in confidence now, and being slimmer now feels more like a pipe dream again than the achievable goal it had started to become.
I'm not going to get my target of reaching my half-way point by my birthday. Or at least, if I do, it'll be a miracle. I know that now, and I suppose knowing that has taken a bit of pressure off, but the best I can do is to try and get as close to it as possible by then. I've still got three weigh-ins to go. Who knows. It might happen. I'm being really tough this week. I've got 3 1/2 lbs to go before I get my 3 stone boxed off and if I don't do it this week - or certainly the week after, I'll be completely gutted.
On the plus side, everyone buy my best friend Nathan's album when it comes out in a couple of weeks. Not only is he incredibly talented, makes amazing music and is, indeed, my favourite man since creation - I wrote the liner notes!!! Wahoo! I knew I'd see my name in print somewhere this year. Now I just need to get rid of this fershlugginer Writer's Block on The Phantom Winger. I've been advised to write the end first. I don't know how I feel about this, I think it might be a bad idea. Although I might start from mid-way in the third chapter, I'm only about five or six paragraphs away from breaking the block.
Actually, you know what, first of all I think I just want the world to stop spinning so flipping quickly for five minutes and let me get my head together before I go any further with anything...!!
I'm sorry I failed on the blogging front last week. Last week was horrible. Please can we pretend it didn't happen? That would totally work for me. I know the whole purpose of the blog was to be some sort of personal therapy when times got tough as well as the chroncling of joys and euphoria when times were good - but there are reasonable limits to everything. My head is feeling really rather screwed up at the moment. Life with the Wainwrights just hasn't been the kind of thing anyone would want to blog about for the last seven days.
Aside from the stuff you don't want to know about, on Thursday's weigh-in it turned out that I had put half a pound on. The llamas were extremely disappointed. I didn't pack them off to Magaluf again this week, but Enrique did say that if I have a good result this week he'd choreograph an extra special fiesta for me. What more incentive do I need?!
My slimming mojo seems to have vanished since the Debacle of the Scales. It's ridiculous. I know it's only a little thing but it's really just thrown me off-balance - no pun intended. Just when I'd finally started to think I could really do this and I could finally start looking like a person rather than an orb with feet, it was a huge knock I wasn't prepared for. Andrea the Consultant has got a lot to answer for. I am seriously lacking in confidence now, and being slimmer now feels more like a pipe dream again than the achievable goal it had started to become.
I'm not going to get my target of reaching my half-way point by my birthday. Or at least, if I do, it'll be a miracle. I know that now, and I suppose knowing that has taken a bit of pressure off, but the best I can do is to try and get as close to it as possible by then. I've still got three weigh-ins to go. Who knows. It might happen. I'm being really tough this week. I've got 3 1/2 lbs to go before I get my 3 stone boxed off and if I don't do it this week - or certainly the week after, I'll be completely gutted.
On the plus side, everyone buy my best friend Nathan's album when it comes out in a couple of weeks. Not only is he incredibly talented, makes amazing music and is, indeed, my favourite man since creation - I wrote the liner notes!!! Wahoo! I knew I'd see my name in print somewhere this year. Now I just need to get rid of this fershlugginer Writer's Block on The Phantom Winger. I've been advised to write the end first. I don't know how I feel about this, I think it might be a bad idea. Although I might start from mid-way in the third chapter, I'm only about five or six paragraphs away from breaking the block.
Actually, you know what, first of all I think I just want the world to stop spinning so flipping quickly for five minutes and let me get my head together before I go any further with anything...!!
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