...Think, Think, Think...

Too Slow

I was in a car accident on Saturday.  A minor one.  No one was hurt.

The shock hit yesterday evening.  Slow-motion replay over and over.

The car in front at the round about pulled away and then changed her mind.

Too late by then.

It was my fault we were out.   I wanted to go and look at stationery.  I don't need any stationery.  I just wanted.  Like I always do.  Curse of the only child.

I can see that she's stopped moving.  I say, "that car isn't moving" but I'm not quick enough.

Why didn't I just say "STOP"?  The verbosity present in every area of my life now spiders in to emergency situations, encouraging them rather than working to prevent them.

At work its quite amusing.  They call me Scrabble.  People have called into the office while out on the road to check they used the right word or spelling.

Yet I couldn't find one simple little "Stop".

No one was badly hurt.  Just twinges.  There are two damaged bumpers and an insurance excess to be paid, which is painful enough.

And its all my fault.  For being brattish and wordy.

Beauty Blog Revamp

I realise this will probably only appeal to a few people who read here, but I just wanted to post a quick update.

I've started a new beauty blog.  New domain, not linked to this one at all.  I am promising myself that I'll actually put in proper effort to update it the first one went totally by the wayside...Oops!.

If you'd like to check it out (and I really hope you will), its at http://www.glossgalore.com

At the moment there is only a welcome post up, but I'll be updating with a couple of reviews over the weekend as I got some lovely goodies today.

I've been off work this week using up a bit of holiday time, but hopefully once my cold goes (yep, another one!) life will return to normal and I'll be posting more exciting things here. 

Bx

How to look good...dressed

I have the opposite problem to the women on How To Look Good Naked.  I'd probably be Gok's worst nightmare.

I don't hate my body.  I'm not mortified at my own reflection or terrified by the sight of my own naked flesh.  The chances of me insisting that a partner turn the lights out before I strip off is practically zero.

Naked I'm fine with.  Lingerie?  Love it. Clothed though?  I'm not so good.

I went out this afternoon to have a look for some new work clothes.  I'm starting to feel that everything I have in my work wardrobe makes me look frumpy and much older than I really am.  What I'd like is to look stylish and pulled together when I'm at the office, not like I got dressed in the dark from a wardrobe belonging to a 50 year old RE Teacher.

I wandered around a few shops and found some lovely things.  None of them fit.  I found this little lovely, but they didn't have my size.  The size below was too tight and I'm sure the next size up would have just hung off me.  I may order my size off the website and see if its any better. 

I loathe shopping for clothes for this reason.  Either they don't have my size, or the sizing systems are so inconsistent that I end up hacked off by the faff of guessing if things will come up too big/too small and just give up.  I'm pleased to say that I don't usually come away from these ordeals feeling fat.  Generally I blame the shops for being incapable of picking a sizing system and everyone using the same one.  Today though, I do feel a bit rubbish.  Frumpy really.

People often ask me why my obsession lies with makeup and beauty.  Simple answer:  it ALWAYS fits.  Once you know your foundation shade, everything else is a breeze.    I don't ever try 5 different shades of lipstick to find that none of them are right and then leave 20 minutes later hot and flustered from being trapped in a cramped changing room.  Its not that kind of party. 

After putting myself through the ringer I gave up with the clothes shopping and made my way empty handed to Superdrug where I bought new shampoo, conditioner, a couple of styling products and a new mascara as a reward for not having a massive hissy fit about it all.

I was actually starting to feel a bit brighter until I went into McDonalds.  I ordered (large quarter pounder with cheese meal, with a chocolate milkshake) and the cashier went to put everything together.  While he's doing that, another guy comes over, looks at the till from which I've just been served and says, with eyebrows raised "large meal...". 

I understand its best not to be rude to people in the food service industry (for reasons best explained by the movie Waiting), so I just replied, "Yep".  In reality, I could have quite happily thrown my chocolate milkshake in his face, the twat.  I took my food and scurried home, seething more about that than about the lack of clothes-purchasing that I managed to do.

So, other than getting an extra hour in bed this morning today has not been one of my funnest days ever.  Not to worry though, I'm about to go and finish my milkshake and do my hair.  Naked probably. I think I look better that way.

Left, Left, Left, Right, Left.

Okay, who am I kidding.  I don't march anywhere.

I do walk though.  I can drive but don't due to a ridiculously short temper.  Also, the majority of places I need to go are either walking distance or train-able from my home.  A car would be a waste of money.

I walk to work most mornings and it takes about 15 or 20 minutes - which is undoubtedly too far to walk in heels.  I have a system in place where there are a few pairs of shoes under my desk and I change into office appropriate shoes when I get to work.  I'm sure it isn't the case for everyone, but I consider these to be office appropriate (Ellie, these are from New Look and you need them..you really do!):

A couple of weeks ago, I got a message from a nice chap called Adam.  He works for a company called Fitness Footwear and they were running a promotion called "Shoes for Reviews".  Basically, they were offering free shoes from a selection on their site in return for a review on my blog.

I accepted their very kind offer and within a few days, these little lovelies turned up:

These are the North Face Hedgehog GTX XCR hiking shoes in Foil Grey and Popsicle pink.  I didn't even know that Posicle Pink was a real colour, but I'm very pleased it is.  These come in a few different colours and there are men's ones too.

The North Face is a well established brand, making all sorts of hiking-skiing-outdoorsy type garb that generally I speaking I've heard of but never had cause to wear because I'm not a hiking-skiing-outdoorsy type gal.  I'm a townie.  I like shops, museums, galleries, the theatre.  Not tents, not mud and especially not snow.

Still, the fact of the matter is, I'd never really considered having proper walking shoes.  Silly if you consider that I walk for at least 40 minutes - 2 hours every day (depending on my lunch plans!).

I almost always walk to work in trainers and the last pair I bought looked quite nice, but were cheap.  I guess they'd be described more as "fashion" trainers than something that was going to take care of my feet.  They offered no proper support and I'm almost convinced that they were what brought the calf-pain issue to a head.  I chose them purely because they were black because black trainers tend not to scream "I'm wearing a suit with trainers, don't I look like I've fallen right out of the movie Working Girl".  It also helps me look less ridiculous if I'm wearing black opaque tights that day because black tights + white trainers = not hot. 

These are a few different shades of grey and seem to look fine with both fleshtoned and black tights so thats a plus. I absolutely love the pink detailing as it does add more of a feminine touch to them.

These are, apparently, "proportioned for the female athlete". A female athlete I'm not, but I am a woman who appreciates comfortable walking shoes.

These have Gore-Tex. For any die-hard Seinfeld fans reading tell me how I could resist anything with Gore-Tex?  I couldn't.  Wasn't going to happen.  I, like George, want to keep saying it.  Not being entirely sure what Gore-Tex was I looked it up and its a waterproof/breathable material. This makes them extremely good for walking to work in the winter.  They're also kind of spikey on the bottom which I think will help when it gets slippery and should help avoiding more of these situations.

I've been testing these for the last week and they are very comfortable.  They haven't exacerbated the pain I had in my legs, which I think must mean that they're offering the right sort of support for my feet/legs for the kind of walking that I'm doing.  I wear these with tights most days and they have needed a bit of stretching/wearing in as they were slightly snug to begin with.  I think if they were something you were going to wear with thicker socks it may be a benefit to go up a size if you know your feet are at the bigger end of your size.

I think Adam represented the company extremely well and was very friendly in all our correspondence.  The shoes arrived within 48 hours of us agreeing everything and so if the customer service is the same for a paying customer (which I'm sure it is!) this is a company that is a pleasure to deal with.

Overall, I'm very pleased with these shoes.  The fact that they were free is a very serious bonus, but I can honestly say that when I come to buy my next pair of shoes for my commute this is exactly the type of thing I'll go for.

If you're in the market for running, walking, hiking shoes etc - definitely check these guys out: http://www.fitnessfootwear.com

Not Helping...

As you've probably seen before, I sometimes check my stats and referrers to see how people found my blog.

I was looking today as I had a comment on my previous post and I was curious how they found me.

In the list of referrers, there were two image searches.  Onewhich lead to an image of Ryan Reynolds chained to the floor, which I remember, but don't really remember putting into a post and one which lead to this picture...

 

...which was from this post.

The search term was "young person with bags under eyes".

I know I mentioned that I had bags under my eyes, but I didn't quite expect to be picture number 3 in the search results.  

Fuck you google images, you are not helping me right now.

Remember the goose flu?  Well, its back.  I had tonsillitis a few weeks back and although the swollen tonsils have gone down and their pus coating has vanished, I haven't been 100% since. 

On Friday of last week I noticed that my throat was getting worse.  It was a bit iffy over the weekend, but I tried not to whinge at my friends and even went out and did the first session of the Get Running program on my iPhone which may actually have exacerbated the whole situation.

Unfortunately today my throat is really bad and within about an hour of me getting to work, my voice returned to that oh-so-sexy goose/marge simpson combo.  By 2pm, I'm home and in bed half sulking and half crying because I seem to have been ill constantly this year and I'm just so tired of it.

Here's hoping I feel and sound better in the morning!

Fifteen out of Ten

I'm not much of a one for exercise.

By that, I mean that I don't do any.  I walk to work, but thats the sum total of it. 

The thing I never seem to learn is that by doing nothing all to take care of my aging muscles, I'm actually doing myself more harm than good.

Case in point: My hamstrings and calf muscles.  They hurt.  All. The. Time.  A lack of stretching combined with daily wear of 4 inch heels around the office have equalled short, tight muscles. Its been going on for some time and I tried my best to ignore it.  I dabbled with a few stretching exercises that I'd do for a couple of days and then stop.  Big mistake.  Huge, in fact.

Recently,it got so bad that I had no choice but to seek professional help and on the recommendation of a colleague, went to see his sports masseuse.

When you hear the word "massage" you think to yourself "ahhhh, lovely, relaxing massage."

If you put the word "sports" in front of "massage" you find yourself presented with an entirely different response.  Along the lines of "FUCK!  OW!  STOP IT!"

I can't explain to you how painful it is to have tight calf muscles massaged.  It's truly one of the most horrific physical experiences I've had. The masseuse herself is lovely and by all accounts very good at what she does.  If by very good at what she does, people mean "adequately skilled to introduce you to intense muscular pain".

There are two acts of evil that are part of the treatment that I feel compelled to mention.  The first is known as the lock and key and involves the masseuse bending your leg so your foot is up in the air and then jamming her knuckles into the bottom of your hamstrings, just above the knee.  In a flexible person the foot should then drop down, indicating that the muscles and tendons are loose.  In an inflexible person (i.e. me) it hurts immensely.  The kind of pain that pushes you to hysterical laughter because you can't even cry, it hurts so much.

The second act of evil is when the masseuse rubs over your calf muscles, finds a knot and then presses on it.  She asks you how bad the pain is on a scale of one to ten and holds it there, letting the pain radiate through you until it eventually subsides.  The science behind it is that the pressure starves the knot of blood, then when the pressure is released blood rushes through and clears some of the toxins.

I've also been given a few stretches to do in conjunction with the massage.  One I like, the other two (which are painful) not so much.

So whats the point of this rambling post, you ask?  Its a bit of a public service announcement really.

People, please....stretch.  Daily.  I urge you.  You don't want to have to have a sports massage.  You really, really don't.

Review - Kurt and Sid

I love going to the theatre.  But its a conditional love. I love going to the theatre if the venue is right.

Yesterday, I went to Trafalgar Studios to catch the matinee of Kurt and Sid, starring Danny Dyer and Shaun Evans.

The Trafalgar Studios used to be the old Whitehall theatre but have been split into two.  I can only speak for studio 2, but its a fabulous space.  Its a very intimate setting, only seating 100 and you feel as though you're in the thick of it.  The actors are literally right in front of you, not elevated on a stage.  They're close enough that you can see everything - every out of place hair, if they spit when they talk, the lot.

I'd love to say my intentions for seeing the play were honourable.  That I wanted to see the story (which I'll get to in a bit).  I can't, in good faith, say that.  I wanted to see Danny Dyer up close.  Fangirl-ish of my I know.  I wasn't the only one there with that attitude mind, and I can at least say I wasn't naive enough to dress like I was out on the razz in case Mr Dyer noticed me in the crowd and whisked me off to a hotel.  Sadly, a few young ladies there took that tack.

Onto the play.  The story is actually a pretty good one if you're a music fan.  Its set in 1994 just before Kurt Cobain kills himself.  He's sitting there, shotgun in mouth when lo and behold, Sid Vicious walks in. Thus follows about an hour and a half of their conversation.  Their experience and perception of fame, the drugs, the women, their wives, even their homelands. 

I'd never really seen anything Shaun Evans had been in, but I was mightily impressed with his portrayal of Cobain.  The picture above doesn't make him look anything like Kurt Cobain, but the press shots were obviously taken a while ago as his hair is longer and has been dyed that perfect grunge-bleach-blonde.  He looked the part and managed to channel that sense of melancholy that seemed to ooze from his pores.  You really did feel that he was dead inside. That life and fame and the burdens he put apon himself had leeched out every bit of life from him. 

As Sid Vicious, Danny Dyer was pretty good.  I can only say pretty good because what I'm absolutely aching for is to see him do something where he isn't cockney.  That's not to say that I think he's a bad actor - I don't at all - but he's definitely typecast and I'd like to see someone take a chance on him doing something else, He has done Pinter in the past (as in WITH Pinter, not just in a play written by him) so I'm sure he's got some acting chops.  None of this should take away from the part he played though. The swastika t-shirt, studded cuffs, leather jacket and spiked hair were right on the money, although part of me would have expected some safety pins stuck through skin somewhere.  I wasn't much familiar with Sid Vicious but he played him with perfect british-nihilistic-sarcastic humour, but with a warmth to it which surprised me.

It could easily have been a very depressing play, on the surface its "dead guy tries to stop suicidaly guy from killing himself and fails" but that wasn't the case at all.  The dialogue between the two characters was very funny, much as you'd expect to see between two people so similar but from different places and times.

My only criticism was that for the type of play it was I'd hoped for some slightly more intense interaction.  I found the second act to be a bit slower than the first and I think that in the dialogue there was the promise of things being a little more heated between the two.  Overall, I really enjoyed it and was pleased to have seen it.  I love stories which focus on the people and anything dialogue heavy always floats my boat (possibly explaining my love for Kevin Smith and Woody Allen films) and this is exactly that.  The cherry on the cake for me was that the venue was so small.  You're literally in that attic with them.  If you were in the front row and put your legs forward you'd have been in their way!

I was born in 1982 and so I was much too late for punk and just a teeny bit young for grunge, but I've picked up on both in recent years and certainly feel that the characters tied in with my perceptions.  I also learned a few things too.  I hadn't realised that Vicious was 21 when he died, nor did I know Cobain was 27.  My age, which got me thinking a bit.  He'd been a megastar, a husband, a father and got to the point where he felt it was all pointless in such a short time.  Its tragic.

If you're interested in seeing it, its on until 3rd October.

http://www.kurtandsid.com/

This is what breakfast looks like for me when I know today will be a really shitty day..

Friday Night Shopping

Dear Waitrose,

I thought I'd write you a little note just to let you know that I do, in fact, adore shopping with you.  Of all the supermarkets you are my favourite for many reasons, the primary of which is the fact that as you slightly overprice your products the calibre of person in store is usually much better. 

Call me a snob if you will, but if I have been at work all day and want to get something nice for my dinner, I do not want to contend with screaming toddlers and their oblivious parents.  I want to wander, quietly browsing until I find something yummy.  I then would like to pay without much of a wait and make my way home.

This evening, all was well until I got to the checkout.  Here's what I bought:

• Computer Active Magazine x 1
• Look magazine x 1
• Ciabatta Rolls x 1 pack of 4
• Deli Style Charlotte Potato Salad x1
• Coleslaw x 1
• Birds Eye Simply Salmon in Lemon/Herb butter x1
• Nestle Mint Aero x 1
• Jacques Fruit Cider x1

The young lady serving me and my father (who is well over 60, I should add) was under 18 and so had to ask a grown up if she could serve me the cider.

So we waited.  She pushed her little buzzer and waited for the lady in the barbour-style green jacket (seemingly this indicates some sort of seniority) to come over.  We waited a bit more.  And a bit more.  Probably only three or four minutes in total, but that is too long really.

Eventually, barbour-jacket comes over, types a little code into the till and looks me up and down.

Now, I will admit, I do try to take good care of my face.  The rest of my body, not so much.  I don't like the gym but do very much like alcohol/cheeseburgers/vast quantities of pasta/chocolate etc.

The policy in the majority of shops is that if you look under 21, they will ask you for ID.

Barbour-jacket's eyesight is so bad that the face below apparently looks under 21:

 

Note the lack of makeup, the bags under eyes, the smile lines (aquired mostly through years cynical/derisive laughter).  This is the face of someone who works in an office and at the moment doesn't enjoy it much.  This is not the face of an underage drinker looking to get wrecked.

I ask you, Waitrose, do you think that underage drinkers go to your stores with their dad on a friday night and buy ciabatta and salmon to go with their posh fruit cider?  Really Waitrose?  Really?  We're hardly talking fish and chips and abottle of white lightning are we?

Many people may find it flattering.  For me, it does just seem ridiculous.  I may be a little hard on myself but I am quite sure that I do not look under 21.  At the moment I'm amazed that I pass for under 41.

I do understand that you have laws and rules to follow, however I can't help but think you may be better off having the people enforcing those rules able to read without the use of brail and navigate their way around the store without the assistance of a guide dog or a white stick. 

Otherwise, thank you for a lovely shopping experience.

Best Regards

Beth

Handy Hints For Getting On My Nerves

Wait until I go into the kitchen to cook dinner and then come in and stand in front of cupboards I need to get to.  Maybe start doing some washing up when you can see I'm just about to drain pasta.  Better yet, do all that and hum off key.  Or maybe, sing the same line of a song over and over and over.  Still off key mind you.  This is especially helpful when I'm trying to prepare something complicated from scratch.

Wait until you can see I am 75% done in preparing my meal for the evening before suggesting that Dad go and get a takeaway.  I understand how stressful it must be cooking for two whole nights a week.  I mean, I do it 7 nights a week, but I'm obviously superhuman and wouldn't want to have a night off anyway.

Watch me spill something in the kitchen because the fury of your off key singing has overwhelmed me.  Then patronisingly ask me if I want you to clear it up.

Hear me get back from shopping and watch through the window as I trawl through my bag looking for my keys, once I've found them let me struggle with the shopping until I'm in the kitchen.  Then ask me if I need any help.

Bring washing upstairs and just hang things on the door of the wardrobe.  Obviously, the walk up the stairs has drained all of your energy to the point that you can't open the door and put things inside.

If there is washing that doesn't go on a hanger, don't put it in the chest of drawers where the clothes live.  Balance it precariously on the end of my bed.  

On the rare occasions I tell you somethng personal about myself, share it with your work colleagues.  I especially like it when you do this.  Its nice to have someone say "I hear you got an abnormal result on your smear test last week."  I love knowing that your co-workers know all about my reproductive health.

And if you really want to go for gold, whenever I get home ask me if it was busy.  It doesn't matter where I've been.  The shops, out with friends, blockbuster, the doctors.  Wherever.  Its important that you know if it was busy while I was there.  Particularly as you're not even using the information to make a judgement on whether you'll go yourself.