...Think, Think, Think...

No Bubbles

The two most awful words to the ears of a beauty junkie.  No bubbles.

They screech, cutting you to your very core.  The horror.  THE HORROR.

A couple of weeks back, I noticed a little red round patch on my arm.  Nothing major, not itchy or weeping or anything grim.  Just a little red patch.

Then a couple of days later another one.  A bit further up on that arm.  At intervals, cue repeats on my thigh, my chest, back, calf, hip.  Some of them are a bit itchy.  Blech.

Last week I decided I'd best make myself a doctors appointment as it was definitely getting worse.  Earliest the one who specialises in the skin stuff could see me was today, at the surgery in the "group" that is the furthest from my house.  1.9 miles walking, according to Google Maps.

All weekend, I scoured the internet trying to self-diagnose, which we all know is a fools game.  Eventually I came to what I felt was the only logical conclusion.  It was Ringworm and it was obviously the cat's fault.  She hates me anyway, so why not infect me with hideous fungus?  Smug little sod.*

Turns out, I am not fungal.  Its eczema.  This brings both good and bad news.

Good news - I am not fungal.  Always nice to know.

Bad news - No bubbles.

By that, I mean that the doctor has advised that I use no perfumed products or bath/shower doo-dahs that lather until this is all sorted.

Its likely to be caused by a cold weather/central heating combo, mixed with my love for baths so hot you could cook food in them and a good dose of stress thrown in for seasoning. 

I've now got all sorts of new but boringly packaged, un-sexy smelling products to use.  E45.  Doublebase Gel.  Some sort of steroid cream just in case the itching gets unbearable.  And no more scalding hot baths.  I'm allowed short, warm showers.  Lucky me.  Just what you crave after a long day at work "Oooh yes, I'll have a quick splash in some lukewarm water for 30 seconds".  Great.

I'm torn between my love for soaking in a hot bubbly tub and my vanity i.e. knowing that to not look like a plague victim I have to take the advice.  Okay, I exaggerate.  I don't look like a plague victim.  children are not singing Ring a Ring o' Roses at me as I walk down the street** but I feel SO unattractive. 

I'll try to be good.  I switched from a daily shower/bath routine to a shower only routinue before when I had my tattoo done.  Although that was in late summer/early autumn so I felt less of a need to surround myself with a warm cocoon. 

As a plus point for friends and colleagues, I'll be going through my huge box of bath and shower goodies and handing out some castoffs.  I may alternatively open a branch of Boots.  I do believe I have enough stock to last until sometime in mid-February.

What I find most interesting slightly appalling is that the stress of one thing or another at work has had me feeling run down for ages.  It is only now that I'm showing physical/cosmetic signs of stress that my vanity kicks in and goes "Oi! You'd best do somethng about this.  You're starting to look a bit rough".  Am I really so shallow that my appearance is a stronger motivator than my health?

I'm not going to answer that.  You can draw your own conclusions.  The only hint I'll give you is that I will be redirecting my bath/body product fund into expanding my makeup collection.

* I apologised today.  I picked her up and hugged her and she looked more unimpressed at that than at the accusation.

** Did you spot the deliberate mistake here?  I know, I know.  Its nothing to do with the plague.  All a myth.  I was just testing.

Poles Apart

Last weekend, I went to see an awesome play called Poles Apart. I realise that approximately 1/3rd of my readership already know this because they were either watching the play with me, or they were in it.

I don't often meet other bloggers.  In fact there isn't anyone in my real life that even writes a blog themselves, although one friend is thinking about it.  He'd be a great blogger, he's the coolest person I know by a long shot.

A month or so ago Ellie from The Daily Smoke suggested that we meet up to see fellow blogger Daniel Hoffman-Gill in his play, Poles Apart.  I had what can only be described as a complete fucking whore of a month with one thing or another, but I did manage to get myself together and get a ticket booked.

On the day of the show, I texted Ellie in the morning and she said that she'd be meeting Rashbre, another blogger in the Commercial Tavern at 5:30pm with a view to getting something to eat before the show.  Rashbre is a blogger who I was aware of but I'd never really read his blog (he's in my google reader now but as I'm about a week behind I still haven't really read his blog!  But I will!). 

Its an interesting thing, meeting people off the internet.  Especially when those people blog anonymously.  You never really know what to expect.  You have an idea of their character but no idea what they look like or sound like.

I decided (in my total lack of wisdom) that I'd meet them via Oxford Street so that I could do a bit of Christmas shopping.  EPIC fail there.  You're shuffling along, stuck behind tourists who seem fascinated at the window displays and don't stop to think for a second that there are people with things to do and places to be.  I managed Debenhams, Selfridges and Ann Summers before I gave up.  Oddly enough, Ann Summers was the only shop wtih any breathing room.  I guess crotchless knickers don't feature on that many people's christmas lists.

I moved at a snail's pace back towards Bond Street Tube station and headed in the direction of Liverpool Street.  On my journey I tried to work out what everyone would look like.   Not easy.

It turned out that in the time it took me to get from Bond St to Liverpool St the heavens had opened and it was absolutely pouring down.  This meant that I had to juggle an umbrella, two bags of shopping (paper  carrier bags...which are of course, not waterproof) and Google Maps on the iPhone to try and work out where on earth the pub was.  For 20 minutes I wandered around, noting that the city looks a lot different at night than during the day. It was also slightly weird not following my boss - thats what I usually do in the city.  He knows where we're going and so I totter behind him (client meetings = silly shoes). Eventually, I gave up and got a cab.  

The pub itself seemed quite unusual.  From the outside, I wasn't really sure a - if it was open and b - how exactly to get in as none of the doors looked like a "main" door.  I worked it out and wandered through the extremely dim lighting towards my party - Ellie, Rashbre, Melanie and John.

We left the pub straight away and went to Brick Lane for some eats and Rashbre very kindly filled me in as to some of the local history as I'd never really been to East London before. After being accosted by the locals, we settled on what was pretty much the first indian restaurant we came to.  We were promised freebies that I'm sure we didn't get, but you could make an absolute killing if you were vigilant about getting what they offered!

We had a fairly quick meal as we were cutting it slightly fine to get to the theatre on time, but we still had time to chat and sort of scope eachother out.  I had no idea what Rashbre would be like but he was extremely warm and friendly.  He gave me a copy of his book which I've made a start on but I'm a notoriously slow reader so it may take me a while!  Melanie and John were very sweet but I didn't get much of a chance to get to know them (John's blog is also now in the reader to be caught up on!).  Ellie is what can only be described as effortlessly beautiful.  She was shorter than I'd imagined, but she's one of those people that glows.

Cobra..or maybe Tiger beers and a curry later, we're on our way to the theatre.  I was glad that everyone else knew where we were going because I had absolutely no idea.  Set me down in the West End and I'm fine, I can get wherever I need to go.  Anywhere else in London?  No.  I don't worry about getting lost so much, because I know that if you walk in a straight line for long enough you'll find a tube station, but when I've got to be somewhere I like to know exactly where I'm going.

Rich Mix on Bethnal Green Road is quite a nice venue.  Poles Apart was playing up on the 4th floor and it was a lovely space.  Probably only seats for 100 and so you're right on top of the action.  As I've mentioned before, I love that.

The play was, in my opinion, brilliant.  I spend far too many evenings at home and the utter crap on TV slightly astonishes me when I'm reminded that there are intelligent, funny, talenter writers and performers out there who don't get the recognition they should.

As well as being very funny - laugh out loud funny, in fact - the story had a point.  These two men, instead of blindly going with the masses who rant "these bloody foreigners, coming over here, stealing our women and our jobs, they have it easy" decided that they would find out for themselves what it is really like to be an immigrant, not speaking the language, not knowing anyone. Off they went to Poland, with a comically translated letter, in search of employment.  Turns out, its not that easy.

I learned so many interesting things during the show - I had no idea how badly the Polish were affected during the war.  Of course I knew they were invaded at the beginning of WW2 (the fact was reinforced by the Fawlty Towers episode "The Germans") but I had no idea how hard they fought and how much they lost.  Its utterly tragic.

There were also some hilarious send ups of Nick Griffin - the man is a joke after all, so why not take advantage of that.

Reading his blog recently, DHG said that the show we saw may have been the last time that Poles Apart is performed, which hits me with both a sense of joy that I got to see it before the run ended but also with sadness that so many people will have missed out on such an entertaining, informative and downright funny show.

Thank you Ellie, Rashbre, Melanie and John for a lovely evening and great conversation, and thank you Daniel for a great performance and a wonderful, thought-provoking show.

To Do Today... / Christmas Decoration Trauma

Full list of actions to be taken to secure my status as Domestic Goddess/functioning member of society (for today at least).  In no particular order:

• Review of Poles Apart and lovely meeting with fellow bloggers
• Tidy House
• Bake - mint chocolate shortbread and homemeade mince pies
• Put up Christmas decorations
• Write Christmas cards
• Make shopping list for presents I still need to buy
• Assignment x 2 for courses I have ignored for almost 8 months
• Small amount of form filling for work, even though I'm meant to be on holiday

So far I have done none of these things.

I went out and bought a Christmas tree, lights and decorations.  The first lot of fairy lights did not work.  I find this out after I've wound all 100 of them around the tree.

I take these back for replacements.  I get home, feeling all clever in thinking I'll plug them in while I'm putting them on the tree so I know that they work. 

They do work.  For about 10 minutes.  Then... nothing.  Not even one little fairy light.  Unplug, replug, check for loose bulbs.  Darkness.

I can't put any more decorations onto the tree until I know whats happening with the lights.  Problem is I've now reached "christmas decoration apathy" and it can all just sod off. 

I realise this is probably my own fault.  These are Poundstretcher lights and you know what they say - buy cheap, buy often. But, I have another set of 50 from there that works fine, I just can't seem to make 50 go around the whole tree.

I will get to all the other stuff, but I now just can't be arsed.  Christmas is just so draining.

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/