This morning, while I was trying to force myself to have a lay in, I was flicking through Facebook on my phone when a article about gardening popped up!
Now, any one who really knows me will know that my garden is my happy place. I have a bit of a thing going on where I buy cheap plants from the bargain bench at our local garden centre, nurse them back to health and fill my front garden with beautiful very cheap plants that have lost their labels on the bench so the pleasure is not only buying a cheap plant but waiting to see what the plant is like.
Anyone who dares to touch my garden without asking me first is a very brave person! So, when I discovered that using the lawn mower to cut the grass just wasn't comfortable anymore, I was a little bewildered. I say uncomfortable, by that I mean, a couple of times I very nearly mowed over the electrical cord, and for some reason the ground seemed further away. It was one of those jobs I used to be able to do without thinking, but now I had to really concentrate on not missing bits and not electrocuting myself!
I know that its also one for those jobs which I could ask someone else to do, but its MY garden. So over a few weeks I slowly, and I mean really slowly, dug up the grass! Like you do!
I did one side of the path first, got rid of all the grass and mud by filling the old fish pond with it in my back garden. I continued to buy cheap plants and plant them scattered about where the grass once was. Then I brought a roll of that black plastic stuff that stops weeds growing and covered the garden making little holes for my plants. Finally I ordered a large bag of large shingle and I covered the black stuff with the shingle. Then I did the other side of the path and before then end of the month I had successfully removed all the grass, covered the garden in shingle and new plants and jet washed the path...and the front door...and the walls...and the bird bath...and the windows...and a small child who cycled past on her bike....but once you start with one of those machines its really hard to stop!
Mum suggested that I put a chair out under the kitchen window so I could sit out there in the evenings and catch the evening sun. So as the Buddleia was really tall and all my other bushes had grown it was kinda private, so I put a couple of plastic chairs out and perfect...since then the sun hasn't come out and my errrr lets call him 'neighbour' as I cant think of anything nice to say, decided that my Buddleia needed hacking back......Anyway, this article was about gardening for visually impaired folk, and it made me chuckle, because all the things it suggested to do were things I am already doing. Without realising I had already made the adjustments needed for me to still enjoy the garden. I had made my front garden 'blind person' safe, with out any thought I had put plants with contrasting colours beside each other, taken up the grass, and somehow, and I truly don't know how, had managed to buy plants which smell beautiful. Beside my chair is a Jasmine climbing its way up the porch wall, smelling wonderful and every now and then there's a whiff of lavender from the little plants dotted around in the shingle. I have already stopped using gardening tools with long handles and am so much more confident and happy with a trowel, which is why taking up the grass took so long, because I used a trowel. There are no deep or wide boarders, seems I am more clued up to this blind gardening thing than I thought.
Because I have been so busy in the front garden, the back has started to look rather shabby, Thursday I had a awful day and came home feeling incredibly useless and lonely so I got changed picked up my trowel and gardened for hours, it still needs a lot of work and I need to buy flowers to fill some pots, but I built myself a table beside my garden rocking chair out of some bricks I found behind a tree and a old paving slab! I had an productive and therapeutic afternoon and felt better for spending time on my own and just letting my thoughts flow.
I still have grass in the back garden but I am going to start making a sensory garden, somewhere for me to sit and enjoy the smells and noises of the garden, I have always had a thing for wind chimes so I am going to look out for some special things to hang from the trees and make it a happy relaxing place for me. I'm glad I stumbled across the article, as after a week of negativity its nice to know I've been doing something right xx
Sunday, 17 June 2018
Wednesday, 13 June 2018
Path Parking
I just want to talk about path parking. There has been a lot of chat about banning parking on paths and giving out heavy fines for those caught out. I actually believe there should also be a ban on leaving your wheelie bin in the middle of the path too, but that's a different story....so, yes banning parking on paths, before I began to loss my sight cars that were left parked on paths didn't really concern me, if I had the girls in the pushchair, I would simply cross the road and if I was on my own I would maybe just nip round them on the road.
Until everything changed and now I get why parking on paths is so dangerous and ignorant. A few years ago when I had my training to help me regain as much independence as possible, one of the most valuable things taught to me was how to cross the road when there isn't a crossing. The safest place for a blind person to cross is by a parked car at the kerb of the road. Whether I have my cane or not I still follow what I have been taught. You find a parked car, and you use it as a marker and boundary. I tend to find the front of the car, just in case the bloody thing drives off while I am trying to cross the road, then I slowly move forward until I am at the headlight of the car which is furthest into the road. The width of the car already brings me close to the middle of the road, it gives me better visibility and there are no other distractions like there would be if I was trying to cross from the path, and I am nearer to the other side of the road than I would be if I was crossing from the path. The car being parked at the side of the kerb also tells me exactly where the kerb is, if the car is parked on the path, how am I supposed to know where the kerb starts and the width of the car doesn't put me in the right place in the road for crossing safely.
Then of course you get the very obvious problems with objects being left on paths that shouldn't be there. If a vehicle is parked on the path, its dangerous to step into the road to walk around it, especially with the invention of electric cars which don't make any sound. Scotland have announced a ban and I cant wait for it to happen here, and it should be 24 hours a day, as navigating our way around in the dark is hard enough without having great lumps of metal in the way, and while they are at it, there should be a rule that when you park up your vehicle, you put the wheels straight, I cant tell you how many turned out wheels I have walked into and tripped over, and they hurt like hell when you collide with them. So, if you are a path parker or wheel turnerouterer, then please take a moment to consider the people using the path, not just people like me but wheelchair users and pushchair pushers all struggle when people park on the path. It doesn't help that there seems to be more cars on the roads and less places to park these days, and new housing estates are the worst for cramming in as many houses as possible with tiny paths and no where to park cars. Just today I was taken to a tea room in a little village, its in a house with a massive front garden, the garden is all set up with tables and chairs and the garden is beautiful. but there is no where to park except outside the tearoom, and there is no path. The folks going to the tearoom had parked as close as they could to the flower beds of the garden making it impossible to walk on the inside of the cars safely. What's that saying....'as you are now, so once was I'...I was that person that would have parked on the paths, left my wheels turned out and abandoned wheelie bins in the middle of the path, not because I am a hateful human, but because I really didn't know! I ploughed on with my busy world, unintentionally ignorant. Please try and get into the habit of not using the paths as a car park before the ban arrives here and you end up with a £70 fine slapped on your windscreen.
Wheelie bins are a different matter, partly because Ralph thinks he needs to take a pee up each and every one we pass, but mainly because on my very worst days, or when the sun is shinning brightly, I just don't see them, once the bin men (bin persons) have emptied them they are scattered all over the paths making a walking even a short distance an obstacle course.
I will be happy if I have made just one of you re think your parking habits, and I will have saved you seventy quid!!
Speak soon xx
Until everything changed and now I get why parking on paths is so dangerous and ignorant. A few years ago when I had my training to help me regain as much independence as possible, one of the most valuable things taught to me was how to cross the road when there isn't a crossing. The safest place for a blind person to cross is by a parked car at the kerb of the road. Whether I have my cane or not I still follow what I have been taught. You find a parked car, and you use it as a marker and boundary. I tend to find the front of the car, just in case the bloody thing drives off while I am trying to cross the road, then I slowly move forward until I am at the headlight of the car which is furthest into the road. The width of the car already brings me close to the middle of the road, it gives me better visibility and there are no other distractions like there would be if I was trying to cross from the path, and I am nearer to the other side of the road than I would be if I was crossing from the path. The car being parked at the side of the kerb also tells me exactly where the kerb is, if the car is parked on the path, how am I supposed to know where the kerb starts and the width of the car doesn't put me in the right place in the road for crossing safely.
Then of course you get the very obvious problems with objects being left on paths that shouldn't be there. If a vehicle is parked on the path, its dangerous to step into the road to walk around it, especially with the invention of electric cars which don't make any sound. Scotland have announced a ban and I cant wait for it to happen here, and it should be 24 hours a day, as navigating our way around in the dark is hard enough without having great lumps of metal in the way, and while they are at it, there should be a rule that when you park up your vehicle, you put the wheels straight, I cant tell you how many turned out wheels I have walked into and tripped over, and they hurt like hell when you collide with them. So, if you are a path parker or wheel turnerouterer, then please take a moment to consider the people using the path, not just people like me but wheelchair users and pushchair pushers all struggle when people park on the path. It doesn't help that there seems to be more cars on the roads and less places to park these days, and new housing estates are the worst for cramming in as many houses as possible with tiny paths and no where to park cars. Just today I was taken to a tea room in a little village, its in a house with a massive front garden, the garden is all set up with tables and chairs and the garden is beautiful. but there is no where to park except outside the tearoom, and there is no path. The folks going to the tearoom had parked as close as they could to the flower beds of the garden making it impossible to walk on the inside of the cars safely. What's that saying....'as you are now, so once was I'...I was that person that would have parked on the paths, left my wheels turned out and abandoned wheelie bins in the middle of the path, not because I am a hateful human, but because I really didn't know! I ploughed on with my busy world, unintentionally ignorant. Please try and get into the habit of not using the paths as a car park before the ban arrives here and you end up with a £70 fine slapped on your windscreen.
Wheelie bins are a different matter, partly because Ralph thinks he needs to take a pee up each and every one we pass, but mainly because on my very worst days, or when the sun is shinning brightly, I just don't see them, once the bin men (bin persons) have emptied them they are scattered all over the paths making a walking even a short distance an obstacle course.
I will be happy if I have made just one of you re think your parking habits, and I will have saved you seventy quid!!
Speak soon xx
Tuesday, 12 June 2018
New Shoes
Why is nothing ever easy? Don't you ever wonder what it would be like if there were no complications, and every corner you turn the sun is shinning brightly? But that's not real life I suppose, and most of the corners we turn we are faced with storms. Which is why I have spent the last two weeks wondering if I was ever going to find the corner with the sunshine again.
We have, a very old back boiler which heats our water and radiators. I say very old, I mean very very old, like over 40 years old. We have loved and nursed it along in the hope it would just go on forever. So, when the pilot light went out at the beginning of last week, I got the feeling only someone whose boiler is forty years old and knows its living on borrowed time gets. Fortunately, I had the gumption to pay an monthly insurance to cover call outs and repairs, but not the cost of a new boiler, so I glumly rang British Gas and as I am on the list of what's deemed as being vulnerable I had an engineer out the following day who simply relit the pilot light. All was well for a couple of days until it went out again, so, I had watched the engineer carefully and figured I could fix this myself, and so relit the bugger myself. My happy cockiness at lighting the thing myself soon turned into misery as I realised the thing had gone out a few minutes later , no amount of fiddling about was going to relight it and I pronounced it dead. All in all, we spent another three days with no hot water, luckily we have an electric shower. Anyway, on the fourth day out came the engineer again (I seemed to have slipped down the list) and he replaced the Thermo couple, and TADAAA hot water was restored with the reassurance that the boiler was still ticking by ok, so goodbye and good luck.
Literally, the engineer had been gone less than an hour when I could hear water dripping out of the over-flow pipe from the loft onto the conservatory roof. So I Googled 'water dripping from over-flow' and it said the ball cock in the water tank was probable stuck and just needs a little nudge.
So, up I go into the loft with my torch, cos I am a woman (a blind woman, but nether the less a woman, and I got this) and find the tank..its the great big square thing with a lid on it, under the lid is a butt load of water and a orange ball connected to a bit of metal, so I get the torch in the right position and I give the ball a little wiggle....WELL...imagine my surprise when the ball and its bit of metal detached its self from the tank and a shit load of water began pouring through the hole filling the tank quicker than the overflow could deal with. To be honest. It took me a few seconds looking at this ball in my hand and then the pouring water before I could move my arse into action, and then I am pretty sure I just jumped out of the loft hatch as I don't really remember using the ladder, and running down the stairs screaming to anyone and everyone to turn the cold water off at the mains. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I could no longer hear pouring water from the loft and relaxed a little until I realised that the dish washer and the boiler was still on...with no bloody water, so another mad dash to turn off the timer for the boiler and the dishwasher.
Then comes the panic of the cost of repairs and finding someone to help me. Enter in my dear friend and her lovely husband who came to my rescue and two days later we were up and running again. By now we had spent most of the week without either the hot water or any water at all, and found ourselves queued outside my Mums bathroom waiting for showers for two nights.
Anyway, just as I thought it was sorted, there was the dripping again on the conservatory roof, at the same time my phone buzzed and it was a text from my friend asking if all was ok, so I said we had a drip. Within 15 mins, my friends husband was back rummaging around in my loft. WHO would have known....I have TWO bloody tanks in the loft and fudge me if the second ball cock wasn't as rusty and buggered as the first one!
Luckily this was also fixed quickly and by Saturday morning we had hot water again and everything appears to be running as normal. Although it seems that we are going through some really testing times at the moment, I kind of figure someone was looking over me when the ball cock went for if we had been away when it broke the damage it would have caused to our home is unimaginable, and judging by the rate the water poured through the hole our home would have been floating down the High Street within a couple of hours, so yes, I suppose I feel lucky!
This positive feeling led to me deciding that I shouldn't leave things to chance and stop putting things off because who knows what might happen tomorrow. So, when I tripped down the stairs on seemingly nothing but fresh air on Saturday morning I was bemused. I checked the stairs, running my hand over the carpet to look for objects I hadn't seen, as I sat back on my knees with my feet in my trainers tucked underneath me horrible images of tripping over a mouse..or worst still...a FROG (ewwww) came flashing into my head, shaking the image out of my head I went to stand up and realised the little rubber bit on the front of my trainer was hanging off...Phew, no Frog...but bugger I need either to glue the little rubber bits or go shopping. I tend to buy the same style of trainer each time because, 1) they are a familiar fit, no real changes so I don't have to compensate and 2) My balance doesn't seem to like different shoes on my feet and for some reason my brain sends all sorts of strange messages around my body.
On further inspection of the old trainers it seemed I had walked a hole in the bottom of them too! These weren't a cheap pair and I have only had them since March, but whatever, the fact is I cant wear anything on my feet that might cause me to be more of a hazard than I already am.
TKMax caught my attention (as I hate shopping, especially on a Saturday) it seemed the quickest option. Do you think I could find a similar pair of trainers in TKMax...not on your bloody life! In the end I brought a pair of Sketchers, they fitted well and were comfortable so I parted with £40, and we were home before lunch, perfect.
Now, I know, if I buy anything that I am not familiar with I have to practise with them, so I needed to get used to the grip on the bottom of them and the overall feel of them, they are very light and spongy, but they sort of tip you forward onto your toes, so I need to make compensations for that when I am moving outside of my house with them on. Its a bit like driving a car with your wellies on, you would have to concentrate harder on feeling the peddles through the thick soul of the wellies, I have to do exactly the same only I need to concentrate on feeling the floor, and I need to feel the floor to feel safe. I did not feel safe wearing my new trainers!!
Monday I wore them to work, this was a very bad idea, my balance, which was already dodgy from tripping down the stairs was completely off, and I spent a lot of time mis-judging things and tripping over. By the time I got home I had a banging head ache and I felt sick. I went to get a glass out of the cupboard to make myself a drink and I'm not really sure what happened but I went to shut the cupboard door but my face was still in the way and I shut my head in the door...sounds funny, but it was the last straw, so I sat down and didn't move until bedtime. But bedtime did not bring sleep and the constant motion in my head was feeling unfair, I wouldn't have minded if I'd had overindulgent night on the beer, but all I'd had was a new pair of trainers!
So, today I stayed home, partly because my balance still isn't right, but mostly because I cannot function without sleep. I have been practicing walking around in my new trainers and even managed to walk Ralph around the block without too much trouble, so I seem to be adjusting to the new feel. Ohhh how I miss the days of chucking on the first pair of shoes that I find, not having to worry about what effect they might have on my day. Gone are those days, if only losing your sight meant just loosing your sight and not all the other unseen stuff that goes with it, stuff that people just don't understand or realise.
At the moment I haven't slept for twenty-four hours, so I've no real idea if any of what I've written makes sense or what the spelling is like, so you will have to forgive me and I'm off to bed.
Speak soon xx
We have, a very old back boiler which heats our water and radiators. I say very old, I mean very very old, like over 40 years old. We have loved and nursed it along in the hope it would just go on forever. So, when the pilot light went out at the beginning of last week, I got the feeling only someone whose boiler is forty years old and knows its living on borrowed time gets. Fortunately, I had the gumption to pay an monthly insurance to cover call outs and repairs, but not the cost of a new boiler, so I glumly rang British Gas and as I am on the list of what's deemed as being vulnerable I had an engineer out the following day who simply relit the pilot light. All was well for a couple of days until it went out again, so, I had watched the engineer carefully and figured I could fix this myself, and so relit the bugger myself. My happy cockiness at lighting the thing myself soon turned into misery as I realised the thing had gone out a few minutes later , no amount of fiddling about was going to relight it and I pronounced it dead. All in all, we spent another three days with no hot water, luckily we have an electric shower. Anyway, on the fourth day out came the engineer again (I seemed to have slipped down the list) and he replaced the Thermo couple, and TADAAA hot water was restored with the reassurance that the boiler was still ticking by ok, so goodbye and good luck.
Literally, the engineer had been gone less than an hour when I could hear water dripping out of the over-flow pipe from the loft onto the conservatory roof. So I Googled 'water dripping from over-flow' and it said the ball cock in the water tank was probable stuck and just needs a little nudge.
So, up I go into the loft with my torch, cos I am a woman (a blind woman, but nether the less a woman, and I got this) and find the tank..its the great big square thing with a lid on it, under the lid is a butt load of water and a orange ball connected to a bit of metal, so I get the torch in the right position and I give the ball a little wiggle....WELL...imagine my surprise when the ball and its bit of metal detached its self from the tank and a shit load of water began pouring through the hole filling the tank quicker than the overflow could deal with. To be honest. It took me a few seconds looking at this ball in my hand and then the pouring water before I could move my arse into action, and then I am pretty sure I just jumped out of the loft hatch as I don't really remember using the ladder, and running down the stairs screaming to anyone and everyone to turn the cold water off at the mains. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I could no longer hear pouring water from the loft and relaxed a little until I realised that the dish washer and the boiler was still on...with no bloody water, so another mad dash to turn off the timer for the boiler and the dishwasher.
Then comes the panic of the cost of repairs and finding someone to help me. Enter in my dear friend and her lovely husband who came to my rescue and two days later we were up and running again. By now we had spent most of the week without either the hot water or any water at all, and found ourselves queued outside my Mums bathroom waiting for showers for two nights.
Anyway, just as I thought it was sorted, there was the dripping again on the conservatory roof, at the same time my phone buzzed and it was a text from my friend asking if all was ok, so I said we had a drip. Within 15 mins, my friends husband was back rummaging around in my loft. WHO would have known....I have TWO bloody tanks in the loft and fudge me if the second ball cock wasn't as rusty and buggered as the first one!
Luckily this was also fixed quickly and by Saturday morning we had hot water again and everything appears to be running as normal. Although it seems that we are going through some really testing times at the moment, I kind of figure someone was looking over me when the ball cock went for if we had been away when it broke the damage it would have caused to our home is unimaginable, and judging by the rate the water poured through the hole our home would have been floating down the High Street within a couple of hours, so yes, I suppose I feel lucky!
This positive feeling led to me deciding that I shouldn't leave things to chance and stop putting things off because who knows what might happen tomorrow. So, when I tripped down the stairs on seemingly nothing but fresh air on Saturday morning I was bemused. I checked the stairs, running my hand over the carpet to look for objects I hadn't seen, as I sat back on my knees with my feet in my trainers tucked underneath me horrible images of tripping over a mouse..or worst still...a FROG (ewwww) came flashing into my head, shaking the image out of my head I went to stand up and realised the little rubber bit on the front of my trainer was hanging off...Phew, no Frog...but bugger I need either to glue the little rubber bits or go shopping. I tend to buy the same style of trainer each time because, 1) they are a familiar fit, no real changes so I don't have to compensate and 2) My balance doesn't seem to like different shoes on my feet and for some reason my brain sends all sorts of strange messages around my body.
On further inspection of the old trainers it seemed I had walked a hole in the bottom of them too! These weren't a cheap pair and I have only had them since March, but whatever, the fact is I cant wear anything on my feet that might cause me to be more of a hazard than I already am.
TKMax caught my attention (as I hate shopping, especially on a Saturday) it seemed the quickest option. Do you think I could find a similar pair of trainers in TKMax...not on your bloody life! In the end I brought a pair of Sketchers, they fitted well and were comfortable so I parted with £40, and we were home before lunch, perfect.
Now, I know, if I buy anything that I am not familiar with I have to practise with them, so I needed to get used to the grip on the bottom of them and the overall feel of them, they are very light and spongy, but they sort of tip you forward onto your toes, so I need to make compensations for that when I am moving outside of my house with them on. Its a bit like driving a car with your wellies on, you would have to concentrate harder on feeling the peddles through the thick soul of the wellies, I have to do exactly the same only I need to concentrate on feeling the floor, and I need to feel the floor to feel safe. I did not feel safe wearing my new trainers!!
Monday I wore them to work, this was a very bad idea, my balance, which was already dodgy from tripping down the stairs was completely off, and I spent a lot of time mis-judging things and tripping over. By the time I got home I had a banging head ache and I felt sick. I went to get a glass out of the cupboard to make myself a drink and I'm not really sure what happened but I went to shut the cupboard door but my face was still in the way and I shut my head in the door...sounds funny, but it was the last straw, so I sat down and didn't move until bedtime. But bedtime did not bring sleep and the constant motion in my head was feeling unfair, I wouldn't have minded if I'd had overindulgent night on the beer, but all I'd had was a new pair of trainers!
So, today I stayed home, partly because my balance still isn't right, but mostly because I cannot function without sleep. I have been practicing walking around in my new trainers and even managed to walk Ralph around the block without too much trouble, so I seem to be adjusting to the new feel. Ohhh how I miss the days of chucking on the first pair of shoes that I find, not having to worry about what effect they might have on my day. Gone are those days, if only losing your sight meant just loosing your sight and not all the other unseen stuff that goes with it, stuff that people just don't understand or realise.
At the moment I haven't slept for twenty-four hours, so I've no real idea if any of what I've written makes sense or what the spelling is like, so you will have to forgive me and I'm off to bed.
Speak soon xx
Wednesday, 30 May 2018
Is time a healer?
Time is a great healer, how many times have you heard that saying before? When you are going through a difficult time, some bright spark says to you....don't worry, time is a great healer, and in a week, a month, a year, you will feel different....and how may times do you look back after that year and think...yes, I do feel different? What we actually do is look that person in the face and say..yes, I suppose so, when really we are thinking, why don't you sod off and mind your own business! Then that time slips away and the very last thing you want to do a year down the line is think back to how awful you were feeling at the time.
HOWEVER, yesterday I was thrown back in time and it was very sobering, because I had forgotten. Forgotten where I was standing, both physically and mentally seven months ago and I had forgotten to remember how far I had come, and instead of being cross and frustrated with myself each day I need to be giving myself a big pat on the back.
Last September, as you all know, I had another deterioration, and in the October I went off to stay with my friends in Suffolk to re-coupe, when I came back I wrote a blog called 'Healing'.
I never read my blogs once they have been published, but I have just re-read 'Healing' and I am totally astonished that within such a short space of time I have achieved so much.
As its half term for me and the girls had a few days off we grabbed the opportunity to make the trip to Suffolk to visit our friends and we took Ralph to meet Daisy dog (We have come to the conclusion that Ralph has little dog syndrome...known as small dog who thinks he is a Great Dane).
Anyway, the weather was beautiful, and we walked, picnicked and soaked up the sun, yesterday afternoon my friend took us and Ralph to Shingle Street. Once again I found myself walking along the marshes towards the shingle beach, and each step I took brought a memory flashing back into my head. Seven months ago I was a blubbering mess, I needed support, I needed my cane. I was frightened for the future and what was going to happen to me.
Seven months ago I walked arm in arm for support from my friend along those marshes, yesterday I walked independently. When and how did that change happen? I hadn't noticed and the change caught me off guard. For some reason that I don't really understand, I felt really sad. I remember as clear as crystal how scared and unsteady I was, I remember standing in front of the sea needing to scream at it and at the same time wondering if I would ever see it again. I remember having to listen and concentrate on my every single move, I remember feeling crushed, my heart, confidence and everything that makes me 'me' was crushed.
But that was seven months ago, this time I didn't even take my cane, my brain has adapted and my confidence is restored. I am doing things I never thought I would do again, like return to work, go out with Friends in unfamiliar surroundings, cooking a meal in someone else's house. The last time I was with my friends at their house in Suffolk I was broken, I didn't do the things I used to do when I visited them, no cooking, no washing up, no making cups of tea. OK, my tea making and my washing up skills might not have been the best this time, but the difference is, I tried and I did it. How bloody good is that?
When I got into the little bed in the spare room last night, with Ralph curled up at the bottom of the covers fast asleep, I did cry and I cried hard, and when my friend called through the door to ask if I was ok, I lied, I cant remember the last time I cried that hard for myself! except maybe seven months ago!
This morning I got up early, clipped Ralph onto his lead and made my way down to the river for my tinkling boats fix, except the air was still and the tide was out, but it didn't matter, I sat on a wet bench and watched the birds in the mud and considered the next chapter in my life. I know I will be set back again, and I am aware that each time it will take me longer to adapt to new ways of dealing with the sight that a deterioration leaves me with. So, sitting on the bench I decided there nothing I can do except enjoy what I have, so I stood up with determination and positivity only to realise that my arse was wet from the bench and so spent the whole walk home trying to avoid people in case they thought I had wet myself.
Luckily there wasn't many people about that time of the morning!
xxx
Sunday, 27 May 2018
Never waste a word..
Once again time has slipped by way too quickly and I haven't had time to think let alone write a blog!
Getting back into the old routine has been harder than I thought and I have found myself having to take afternoon naps before I can behave like a regular functioning adult and get on with the millions of jobs a parent has to do, and dealing with the frustrations of not being able to keep up with these jobs and balancing work and home life has got me down a few times and by the end of the day I shut the kitchen door on the washing up and the filthy dirty kitchen floor and go to bed, telling myself tomorrow is another day and after a goods night sleep I will be able to conquer all those jobs behind that door.
On Tuesday RNIB Connect sent me an email asking if I would like to attend a Marti Pellow concert on Friday, they apologised for the short notice and the tickets would come on a first come first serve basis, anyway, I put my phone down after reading the email and carried on with the day, just as I was climbing into bed Tuesday evening I remembered that I hadn't replied to the email to register my interest, so on Wednesday when I was sent another email saying that there were still a few tickets available, I snapped three up and then phoned 'the Nanas' to ask them to come with me.
A plan soon followed and I went off to work Friday morning knowing that 'the Nanas' would meet at my house and we would walk around to the train station and get the 2.34pm into London, go to the Victoria and Albert museum then get food by which time it would be time to walk up to the Royal Albert Hall, pick up our tickets and grab a drink, a perfectly chilled afternoon, right?
Alas...wrong! That little evil gremlin which sits on my shoulder just waiting to make my life into some sort of comedy sketch was on full bloody form.
Because I have been so tired I though I would do some delegating and I wrote a note asking daughter number one to nip to the train station and buy three travel cards and left the bank card complete with pin number and went off to work.
When I got home I made sure the daughter had purchased the tickets and that no problems had occurred, I was assured all was good, so I picked up my newly delivered post and took the envelops with me to the bathroom and opened them while I pondered on a bath or a shower. The phone rang down stairs and the daughter yelled up that it was 'just Nana' so I carried on opening the post...then all of a sudden there was this ear splitting scream and the daughter shouting 'OHHH MY EFFING GOD!! I BROUGHT THE WRONG EFFING TRAIN TICKETS, I THOUGHT IT WAS STILL THURSDAY'....Silence... you know when you just cant think of anything nice to say so you just stand there quietly trying to decide if you should say...ohhh don't worry, its not a problem or...ARE YOU EFFING WITH ME??? ONE BLOODY JOB, THATS ALL I ASKED....So I took myself into my bedroom, got undressed and climbed into bed and slept like a brick for 25 minutes, that was all I needed as when I woke up I was ready to get on with the day, half an hour later I was washed, dressed and sitting on the sofa putting my shoes on when the phone rang again, the same Nana was ringing to ask me if I knew that the train from our station had been cancelled, for a second I seriously wondered if the little gremlin had got its hands around my throat and was squeezing the life out of me, but no I jumped up grabbed everything I needed including the number one daughter who had been instructed to get the Nanas and I to a different train station where we would have a better chance of getting a train into London as there were two lines providing more trains. So, after queuing for ages I managed to get the wrong train tickets replaced with the right ones and although we stood there on the platform watching the display as one by one the trains were cancelled, by some small miracle our train rolled in and we even managed to a seat!
You would think that during the revamp of the train time table someone somewhere would have worked out that if you put on more trains you are gonna need drivers to operate them, but clearly this did not occur hence the utter chaos.
But anyway, there I was sitting comfortably on a brand new train, tucking my train ticket safely into my blue pouch and being whizzed through the countryside and arriving at Finsbury Park only slightly later than scheduled, from then on the journey was very easy, we got straight on the tube at Finsbury Park, the tube didn't get too busy and what's more, when we got off the tube at South Kensington, my train ticket was still in its blue pouch in the back pocket of my jeans.
With two hours to spare before we could collect the tickets for the concert, the Nanas and I tried to stick to our schedule and went to the V&A, we walked around for a while with Mum guiding me past the glass cabinets and found a room called the Italian garden, the Nanas took great interest in a couple of naked male statues, when I got nearer to them I noticed that their willies had dropped off, so after I had shouted across the room that the statues were penis-less, the Nanas decided that we should leave and go for food.
No deliberation..straight to Pierino's, me marching along swinging my stick in front of me, cos I know the way, both Nanas running along behind me, one Nana trying to guide me past bollards and the other (My Mum) yelling at me to stop every time I wondered a bit near to the road...I mean, what's the fuss about, I was going for pasta and nothing was going to stop me.
The pasta was bloody amazing as always and the puddings were pretty good too, by the time the Nanas had finished their second glass of wine it was time to go and collect the tickets from the box office.
My belly, full of pasta and pudding slowed me down for the walk up to the Royal Albert hall, so instead of admitting that I had eaten wayyy too much, I strolled along at a very leisurely pace insisting the Nanas took time to enjoy the beautiful buildings around us AND they fell for it!
Every single time I approach the RAH I cant help being entranced by its beauty, such an amazing building. Bag check was a breeze and a staff member tried to engage me in small talk about braille, but I needed a wee and couldn't concentrate long enough to string two words together!
So, we moved quickly on to the box office and collected our tickets without a problem, it was starting to get busy so another member of staff directed us to the Old Speckled Hen bar, which had just a sprinkling of people in, so we brought a round of drinks and waited for doors opening.
This was when my Mum looked at the tickets and realised that we were not in the usual box but in the stalls, mixing with the general public!! This brought a wave of panic over me as the familiar routine was no longer in place, I began to worry about how we would find our seats and what sort of view we would have, I need not have worried as the staff were more than happy to help us find our seats and once I had finished fiddling around with the wobbly seats (which weren't wobbly at all, they are designed to move to the left to let people pass without having to get up) and actually took notice of my surroundings, I realised that we were in some of the best seats in the house.
We were directly in front of the stage, but fairly sort of high up, the Nana to my right informed me that the Queens own box was behind us so we must have good seats! if we had been in the box that we usually are the view would have been restricted. When everyone else started to take their seats the atmosphere was incredible, something else you are detached from when sitting in the boxes. With a Nana sat either side of me we enjoyed the supporting act, a young man called Ben Mckelvey, I couldn't actually 'see' him, but his voice sounded young, strong and clear. He was extremely confident and played his guitar like he had been playing it all his life. He sang songs which he had written himself but explained the reasons behind the songs before he sung them, which made me really listen to the words, he talked about his family and his Grandad who had helped guide him through his career, and he said the best advise he was given was to 'never waste a word' that phase has stuck in my head, and for a blogger it is meaningful advise too.
The stage was lit up and looked really beautiful.
Mum had commented on the amount of empty seats, but as soon as Ben had finished his set, we had an half hour interval the place was rammed and every seat had a bum on it, including the three seats behind us which had been empty before. I think its such a shame that people don't come for the supporting act, after all 'Supporting' is something we all should do.
Anyway, I recon the three middle aged women behind us either hadn't seen each other for twenty-five years or had been gagged all day, cos they didn't shut up babbling for the whole half hours break, when Marti came on stage they screamed like thirteen year olds and kept yelling ..WE LOVE YOU MARTI...maybe I am a grouch but surely by the time you get to forty-six years old you have got to have grown out of that stage, but it appeared not. When they started jumping up and down I began to wonder if the three bottles of Prosecco they had consumed in the restaurant before hand was going to fizz up in their bellies and make their heads pop off their shoulders, but we weren't that lucky as they tried to talk over Marti, mind you, I don't know what was worse, the talking or when they tried to join in with the singing....all that said, they weren't annoying, they were funny and I certainly didn't fancy their hang-overs Saturday morning.
Once again, I couldn't actually see Marti, and as he started to sing his first song the lighting on the stage went for beautiful to bloody incredible, I have never seen anything quite like it, he sang a song he had written about going on a night fishing trip, not catching anything and walking home in the morning with the sun on his back, the lighting changed to gold and yellow spotlights and they shone over the crowd slowly moving upwards, it looked just like the sun was rising, you could even sort of feel the warmth just like it was the real sun, totally amazing.
Marti sang 'Wishing Well' ...literally the whole hall was belting out the words and I found myself leaning forwards in my seat singing at the top of my voice, we did seat dancing, we clapped and sang all night, Mum kept poking me to stand up and dance but my balance is so bad I was worried I might have ended up in the lap of the fella sitting in front of me so we 80's music danced from the safety of our seats.
Twenty minutes before the end of the concert, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and thank god I checked it, as it was a text from number one Daughter, telling me the trains home were being cancelled again, there was one at 11.06, but then nothing that would bring us into our station until the following day..so I gathered my Nanas and we left before the encore, which made me a little sad. The staff helped us out via the quickest route and we were back at Kings cross in no time, me swinging my stick franticly trying to get to platform 4 and the Nanas running behind me, we even managed to get a seat and home by midnight before the Nanas turned into pumpkins. As I laid there in my bed thinking about the concert I wondered if Marti Pellow would have been so good if it wasn't for the amazing surroundings, spectacular lighting, an awesome band and all those unsung hero's behind the scenes, yeah, he could sing, but he didn't do it on his own.
Back to the norm now, and my ears have stopped the buzzing that you get after a very loud concert. Half term next week so I am off for my dose of tinkling boats, good company and calm, peaceful surroundings.
Speak to you soon x
Getting back into the old routine has been harder than I thought and I have found myself having to take afternoon naps before I can behave like a regular functioning adult and get on with the millions of jobs a parent has to do, and dealing with the frustrations of not being able to keep up with these jobs and balancing work and home life has got me down a few times and by the end of the day I shut the kitchen door on the washing up and the filthy dirty kitchen floor and go to bed, telling myself tomorrow is another day and after a goods night sleep I will be able to conquer all those jobs behind that door.
On Tuesday RNIB Connect sent me an email asking if I would like to attend a Marti Pellow concert on Friday, they apologised for the short notice and the tickets would come on a first come first serve basis, anyway, I put my phone down after reading the email and carried on with the day, just as I was climbing into bed Tuesday evening I remembered that I hadn't replied to the email to register my interest, so on Wednesday when I was sent another email saying that there were still a few tickets available, I snapped three up and then phoned 'the Nanas' to ask them to come with me.
A plan soon followed and I went off to work Friday morning knowing that 'the Nanas' would meet at my house and we would walk around to the train station and get the 2.34pm into London, go to the Victoria and Albert museum then get food by which time it would be time to walk up to the Royal Albert Hall, pick up our tickets and grab a drink, a perfectly chilled afternoon, right?
Alas...wrong! That little evil gremlin which sits on my shoulder just waiting to make my life into some sort of comedy sketch was on full bloody form.
Because I have been so tired I though I would do some delegating and I wrote a note asking daughter number one to nip to the train station and buy three travel cards and left the bank card complete with pin number and went off to work.
When I got home I made sure the daughter had purchased the tickets and that no problems had occurred, I was assured all was good, so I picked up my newly delivered post and took the envelops with me to the bathroom and opened them while I pondered on a bath or a shower. The phone rang down stairs and the daughter yelled up that it was 'just Nana' so I carried on opening the post...then all of a sudden there was this ear splitting scream and the daughter shouting 'OHHH MY EFFING GOD!! I BROUGHT THE WRONG EFFING TRAIN TICKETS, I THOUGHT IT WAS STILL THURSDAY'....Silence... you know when you just cant think of anything nice to say so you just stand there quietly trying to decide if you should say...ohhh don't worry, its not a problem or...ARE YOU EFFING WITH ME??? ONE BLOODY JOB, THATS ALL I ASKED....So I took myself into my bedroom, got undressed and climbed into bed and slept like a brick for 25 minutes, that was all I needed as when I woke up I was ready to get on with the day, half an hour later I was washed, dressed and sitting on the sofa putting my shoes on when the phone rang again, the same Nana was ringing to ask me if I knew that the train from our station had been cancelled, for a second I seriously wondered if the little gremlin had got its hands around my throat and was squeezing the life out of me, but no I jumped up grabbed everything I needed including the number one daughter who had been instructed to get the Nanas and I to a different train station where we would have a better chance of getting a train into London as there were two lines providing more trains. So, after queuing for ages I managed to get the wrong train tickets replaced with the right ones and although we stood there on the platform watching the display as one by one the trains were cancelled, by some small miracle our train rolled in and we even managed to a seat!
You would think that during the revamp of the train time table someone somewhere would have worked out that if you put on more trains you are gonna need drivers to operate them, but clearly this did not occur hence the utter chaos.
But anyway, there I was sitting comfortably on a brand new train, tucking my train ticket safely into my blue pouch and being whizzed through the countryside and arriving at Finsbury Park only slightly later than scheduled, from then on the journey was very easy, we got straight on the tube at Finsbury Park, the tube didn't get too busy and what's more, when we got off the tube at South Kensington, my train ticket was still in its blue pouch in the back pocket of my jeans.
With two hours to spare before we could collect the tickets for the concert, the Nanas and I tried to stick to our schedule and went to the V&A, we walked around for a while with Mum guiding me past the glass cabinets and found a room called the Italian garden, the Nanas took great interest in a couple of naked male statues, when I got nearer to them I noticed that their willies had dropped off, so after I had shouted across the room that the statues were penis-less, the Nanas decided that we should leave and go for food.
No deliberation..straight to Pierino's, me marching along swinging my stick in front of me, cos I know the way, both Nanas running along behind me, one Nana trying to guide me past bollards and the other (My Mum) yelling at me to stop every time I wondered a bit near to the road...I mean, what's the fuss about, I was going for pasta and nothing was going to stop me.
The pasta was bloody amazing as always and the puddings were pretty good too, by the time the Nanas had finished their second glass of wine it was time to go and collect the tickets from the box office.
My belly, full of pasta and pudding slowed me down for the walk up to the Royal Albert hall, so instead of admitting that I had eaten wayyy too much, I strolled along at a very leisurely pace insisting the Nanas took time to enjoy the beautiful buildings around us AND they fell for it!
Every single time I approach the RAH I cant help being entranced by its beauty, such an amazing building. Bag check was a breeze and a staff member tried to engage me in small talk about braille, but I needed a wee and couldn't concentrate long enough to string two words together!
So, we moved quickly on to the box office and collected our tickets without a problem, it was starting to get busy so another member of staff directed us to the Old Speckled Hen bar, which had just a sprinkling of people in, so we brought a round of drinks and waited for doors opening.
This was when my Mum looked at the tickets and realised that we were not in the usual box but in the stalls, mixing with the general public!! This brought a wave of panic over me as the familiar routine was no longer in place, I began to worry about how we would find our seats and what sort of view we would have, I need not have worried as the staff were more than happy to help us find our seats and once I had finished fiddling around with the wobbly seats (which weren't wobbly at all, they are designed to move to the left to let people pass without having to get up) and actually took notice of my surroundings, I realised that we were in some of the best seats in the house.
We were directly in front of the stage, but fairly sort of high up, the Nana to my right informed me that the Queens own box was behind us so we must have good seats! if we had been in the box that we usually are the view would have been restricted. When everyone else started to take their seats the atmosphere was incredible, something else you are detached from when sitting in the boxes. With a Nana sat either side of me we enjoyed the supporting act, a young man called Ben Mckelvey, I couldn't actually 'see' him, but his voice sounded young, strong and clear. He was extremely confident and played his guitar like he had been playing it all his life. He sang songs which he had written himself but explained the reasons behind the songs before he sung them, which made me really listen to the words, he talked about his family and his Grandad who had helped guide him through his career, and he said the best advise he was given was to 'never waste a word' that phase has stuck in my head, and for a blogger it is meaningful advise too.
The stage was lit up and looked really beautiful.
Mum had commented on the amount of empty seats, but as soon as Ben had finished his set, we had an half hour interval the place was rammed and every seat had a bum on it, including the three seats behind us which had been empty before. I think its such a shame that people don't come for the supporting act, after all 'Supporting' is something we all should do.
Anyway, I recon the three middle aged women behind us either hadn't seen each other for twenty-five years or had been gagged all day, cos they didn't shut up babbling for the whole half hours break, when Marti came on stage they screamed like thirteen year olds and kept yelling ..WE LOVE YOU MARTI...maybe I am a grouch but surely by the time you get to forty-six years old you have got to have grown out of that stage, but it appeared not. When they started jumping up and down I began to wonder if the three bottles of Prosecco they had consumed in the restaurant before hand was going to fizz up in their bellies and make their heads pop off their shoulders, but we weren't that lucky as they tried to talk over Marti, mind you, I don't know what was worse, the talking or when they tried to join in with the singing....all that said, they weren't annoying, they were funny and I certainly didn't fancy their hang-overs Saturday morning.
Once again, I couldn't actually see Marti, and as he started to sing his first song the lighting on the stage went for beautiful to bloody incredible, I have never seen anything quite like it, he sang a song he had written about going on a night fishing trip, not catching anything and walking home in the morning with the sun on his back, the lighting changed to gold and yellow spotlights and they shone over the crowd slowly moving upwards, it looked just like the sun was rising, you could even sort of feel the warmth just like it was the real sun, totally amazing.
Marti sang 'Wishing Well' ...literally the whole hall was belting out the words and I found myself leaning forwards in my seat singing at the top of my voice, we did seat dancing, we clapped and sang all night, Mum kept poking me to stand up and dance but my balance is so bad I was worried I might have ended up in the lap of the fella sitting in front of me so we 80's music danced from the safety of our seats.
Twenty minutes before the end of the concert, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and thank god I checked it, as it was a text from number one Daughter, telling me the trains home were being cancelled again, there was one at 11.06, but then nothing that would bring us into our station until the following day..so I gathered my Nanas and we left before the encore, which made me a little sad. The staff helped us out via the quickest route and we were back at Kings cross in no time, me swinging my stick franticly trying to get to platform 4 and the Nanas running behind me, we even managed to get a seat and home by midnight before the Nanas turned into pumpkins. As I laid there in my bed thinking about the concert I wondered if Marti Pellow would have been so good if it wasn't for the amazing surroundings, spectacular lighting, an awesome band and all those unsung hero's behind the scenes, yeah, he could sing, but he didn't do it on his own.
Back to the norm now, and my ears have stopped the buzzing that you get after a very loud concert. Half term next week so I am off for my dose of tinkling boats, good company and calm, peaceful surroundings.
Speak to you soon x
Monday, 14 May 2018
feeling poorly
I had totally forgotten how disabling having a normal common cold is when you are sight impaired...that is until today and now I remember how bloody annoying and frustrating it is!!
I noticed maybe, Friday last week that my hearing was extra sensitive, the thought of having anything wrong with my ears is ridiculously scary, my ears are my eyes. So, Saturday Morning when I woke up with my face snot glued to my pillow I was relieved that it was just a cold!
If only I could transport myself back to the days when a simple common cold meant stuffing tissues in every pocket, timing yourself between doses of cold and flu capsules and allowing yourself to eat whatever you fancy cos your Granny always told you that you should.....'Feed a cold and starve a fever' so this means that its ok to eat three slices of cake, four bars of chocolate, two pints of homemade honey and lemon drink and a bag of crisps all before lunch.
But, you got on with it, having a 'cold' didn't really hinder everyday events, in fact despite giving you a nose as red as a cherry, if you were lucky you might develop a sexy husky voice.
Once again though I am a prisoner to what cant be seen. I really struggle with balance and noise when I have a cold.
My head goes thick with germs and snot like everyone else's but as soon as my ears are affected I loose my balance and my hearing is super sensitive. I feel like I have a bucket over my head, not only is my sight affected but I cant hear properly either.
As the morning progressed my usual routine got harder and harder, as the noise level rose and I needed to concentrate harder I could feel my self needing to run away and find a warm, very quiet space so I could sit and listen to nothingness.
So, I found a bench in the sunshine and I sat there all on my own trying to filter out all the sounds that were upsetting me and focus on the gentle sounds like birds tweeting, the distant humming of people mowing their lawns and the sound of aeroplanes above in the blue sky, these are the sounds which relax me, then a young lady came along and plonked her bum down on the other end of the bench and got out her phone, for some reason she thought it was OK to play games on her iPhone with the sound full on, so suddenly my tranquil moment was filled with electronic squealing, So I sighed inwardly, got up and moved away, the young lady didn't know I needed five minutes peace, but I wanted to yell, 'why the hell have you got your face in your phone, when there is so much to look at and listen too' but not everyone understands the need to separate yourself from the craziness of the day.
Safely home, I have slept on and off all day, and everyday sounds still seem much louder than they usually do. I do feel like I need to explain myself to people and hope they understand that I am not just a wimp with a little cold, its not the cold that is the problem its the secondary complications that cause the problems. I know it will all feel different in a couple of days but, I think I am allowed to feel sorry for myself.
Even Ralph, who usually follows me around everywhere and jumps on my knee as soon as I sit down, has kept right out of my way today. There's no amount of medicine that will restore my hearing, so I just have to wait it out for now and sorry to those around me, I am more horrible than usual when I am poorly! xx
I noticed maybe, Friday last week that my hearing was extra sensitive, the thought of having anything wrong with my ears is ridiculously scary, my ears are my eyes. So, Saturday Morning when I woke up with my face snot glued to my pillow I was relieved that it was just a cold!
If only I could transport myself back to the days when a simple common cold meant stuffing tissues in every pocket, timing yourself between doses of cold and flu capsules and allowing yourself to eat whatever you fancy cos your Granny always told you that you should.....'Feed a cold and starve a fever' so this means that its ok to eat three slices of cake, four bars of chocolate, two pints of homemade honey and lemon drink and a bag of crisps all before lunch.
But, you got on with it, having a 'cold' didn't really hinder everyday events, in fact despite giving you a nose as red as a cherry, if you were lucky you might develop a sexy husky voice.
Once again though I am a prisoner to what cant be seen. I really struggle with balance and noise when I have a cold.
My head goes thick with germs and snot like everyone else's but as soon as my ears are affected I loose my balance and my hearing is super sensitive. I feel like I have a bucket over my head, not only is my sight affected but I cant hear properly either.
As the morning progressed my usual routine got harder and harder, as the noise level rose and I needed to concentrate harder I could feel my self needing to run away and find a warm, very quiet space so I could sit and listen to nothingness.
So, I found a bench in the sunshine and I sat there all on my own trying to filter out all the sounds that were upsetting me and focus on the gentle sounds like birds tweeting, the distant humming of people mowing their lawns and the sound of aeroplanes above in the blue sky, these are the sounds which relax me, then a young lady came along and plonked her bum down on the other end of the bench and got out her phone, for some reason she thought it was OK to play games on her iPhone with the sound full on, so suddenly my tranquil moment was filled with electronic squealing, So I sighed inwardly, got up and moved away, the young lady didn't know I needed five minutes peace, but I wanted to yell, 'why the hell have you got your face in your phone, when there is so much to look at and listen too' but not everyone understands the need to separate yourself from the craziness of the day.
Safely home, I have slept on and off all day, and everyday sounds still seem much louder than they usually do. I do feel like I need to explain myself to people and hope they understand that I am not just a wimp with a little cold, its not the cold that is the problem its the secondary complications that cause the problems. I know it will all feel different in a couple of days but, I think I am allowed to feel sorry for myself.
Even Ralph, who usually follows me around everywhere and jumps on my knee as soon as I sit down, has kept right out of my way today. There's no amount of medicine that will restore my hearing, so I just have to wait it out for now and sorry to those around me, I am more horrible than usual when I am poorly! xx
Wednesday, 2 May 2018
PJ Day
Well, I have broken the promise I made to the Cognitive behaviour therapist and have stayed in my PJ's all day! However this is not because I am fed up or even because its been pouring with rain all day, but because I am totally exhausted, and the reason for this exhaustion is London....Yesterday afternoon, I took my Mum, my youngest daughter and ex-mother-in-law (who I am happy to say has remained an important part of mine and my daughters lives)...I say 'I Took'...the only thing I did really was manage to win the tickets from RNIB Connect and buy our train tickets, the rest happened by pure miracle really!
So, armed with my cane, my little blue pouch containing my train ticket, the theatre tickets and the two Nana's we caught the train towards London, the train was on time and we got seated on the very last carriage so that my daughter who was joining us a couple of stops down would know where we were sitting. I noticed that the train was a little busy for a Tuesday afternoon but happily enjoyed the journey to Finsbury park totally unaware of the mayhem at Kings Cross. The tube was also busier than usual, but we were so occupied chatting about where we were going and the route we were going to take that it didn't really matter.
Arriving at South Kensington we came out of the tube station wondered about the square checking out the restaurants for later. Mum had already decided that we should walk along the under-pass as it was safer for me and brought us out very close to the Royal Albert Hall, so, we couldn't find a restaurant that looked like it might accommodate us and returned to the tube station and walked along the under-pass peeping into the Museums as we passed. The sun was still shining when we came out at the end of the tunnel and we all made our way to the Hall. As usual the building stands proud in amongst other buildings and with the suns rays bouncing off it, it looked just magnificent.
Royal Albert Hall staff were waiting to receive their guests and I am happy to say they have never failed in their impeccable service, bag check was a breeze and then it all turned crazy, beyond the doors were crammed full of people, all ages of people, but mostly people over the age of 65 and I am sad to say you will have found more manners if you were attending a concert full of teenagers. Every single person seemed to feel that it was their very own god given right to push, shove and mutter rude comments under their breath, they all seemed to think they should be first, so this led to queue jumping, which led to up-roar. I have never felt quite so vulnerable and when my daughter and I got separated from the Nana's while trying to maintain our place in the queue for the loo's I started to become really anxious, the noise level was ridiculous and when we finally reached got our turn to use the Loo, my daughter and I went into the disabled Loo's together, this causing up-roar behind us as my daughter was NOT disabled. As soon as the toilet door was shut the noise was cut off, and I don't mind telling you, I sat there wondering how long I could make my wee last so that I didn't have to go back into the crowd.
When we had finished our business, we entered back into the bad tempered crowd and found the Nana's waiting at the entrance to the café. On our tickets it said that doors opened at 2.15, but the staff, very wisely, opened the door 15 minutes early and a very tall male member of staff who had a very loud and authoritative voice silenced everyone and barked orders, where upon the grumpy oldies turned into sweet butter wouldn't melt oldies and did as they were told saying 'Thank You dears' as they passed members of staff, honestly you wouldn't have seen a faster transformation if you had sprinkled fairy dust all over them, from that moment on the atmosphere totally changed and the only other moment we had was when two very large oldies thought they could fit themselves into a already packed lift, leaving me squashed at the back with my cheek pushed against the mirror which they put in these things to make the lift seem bigger, actually the mirror was cold which was quite pleasant on my face really.
Guided to our seats by a very lovely young man, we got comfortable and watched from the box, a steam of people taking their seats and the Orchestra tuning their instruments and preparing themselves for the performance.
The performance, Aptly named, Friendship Matinee (shame some of the people at the entrance hadn't taken notice of the title) Symphonic Rock, by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra was amazing.
The presenter was Ken Bruce, and his easy to listen to voice and his witty jokes kept the audience informed of what to expect, he introduced the Orchestra, the conductor David Firman and Capital Voices who were the vocalists. I swear, when they played Adele's 'someone like you' tears were pouring down my face, a truly emotional and exhilarating performance. As the Orchestra played Bon Jovi's 'Livin on a prayer' I was singing my heart out not giving a poop that I am tone deaf and cant sing a note, it just didn't matter, Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' had my daughter and I dancing in our seats, you just couldn't keep still, in just over an hour we had listened to some fantastic sounds coming from the group of people below us with their instruments. Capital Voices sort of sang at the chorus of some of the songs and it wasn't until the last song when they totally let loose and belted out the words to Queens 'Bohemian Rhapsody' that you realised how bloody amazing they were and I found myself crying again at their beautiful voices.
Exiting the Royal Albert was a completely different experience to entering it, everyone was sort of pleasantly stunned, almost as if they were all starving at the beginning and then after a massive feed they were all satisfied and left with their belly's contently full.
We walked along in the sunshine back towards the tube station but were drawn into the Science Museum, a perfect time to go into these places is an hour or so before they shut, we wondered around with only a few other customers, had a drink and a piece of cake in the café....
So, armed with my cane, my little blue pouch containing my train ticket, the theatre tickets and the two Nana's we caught the train towards London, the train was on time and we got seated on the very last carriage so that my daughter who was joining us a couple of stops down would know where we were sitting. I noticed that the train was a little busy for a Tuesday afternoon but happily enjoyed the journey to Finsbury park totally unaware of the mayhem at Kings Cross. The tube was also busier than usual, but we were so occupied chatting about where we were going and the route we were going to take that it didn't really matter.
Arriving at South Kensington we came out of the tube station wondered about the square checking out the restaurants for later. Mum had already decided that we should walk along the under-pass as it was safer for me and brought us out very close to the Royal Albert Hall, so, we couldn't find a restaurant that looked like it might accommodate us and returned to the tube station and walked along the under-pass peeping into the Museums as we passed. The sun was still shining when we came out at the end of the tunnel and we all made our way to the Hall. As usual the building stands proud in amongst other buildings and with the suns rays bouncing off it, it looked just magnificent.
Royal Albert Hall staff were waiting to receive their guests and I am happy to say they have never failed in their impeccable service, bag check was a breeze and then it all turned crazy, beyond the doors were crammed full of people, all ages of people, but mostly people over the age of 65 and I am sad to say you will have found more manners if you were attending a concert full of teenagers. Every single person seemed to feel that it was their very own god given right to push, shove and mutter rude comments under their breath, they all seemed to think they should be first, so this led to queue jumping, which led to up-roar. I have never felt quite so vulnerable and when my daughter and I got separated from the Nana's while trying to maintain our place in the queue for the loo's I started to become really anxious, the noise level was ridiculous and when we finally reached got our turn to use the Loo, my daughter and I went into the disabled Loo's together, this causing up-roar behind us as my daughter was NOT disabled. As soon as the toilet door was shut the noise was cut off, and I don't mind telling you, I sat there wondering how long I could make my wee last so that I didn't have to go back into the crowd.
When we had finished our business, we entered back into the bad tempered crowd and found the Nana's waiting at the entrance to the café. On our tickets it said that doors opened at 2.15, but the staff, very wisely, opened the door 15 minutes early and a very tall male member of staff who had a very loud and authoritative voice silenced everyone and barked orders, where upon the grumpy oldies turned into sweet butter wouldn't melt oldies and did as they were told saying 'Thank You dears' as they passed members of staff, honestly you wouldn't have seen a faster transformation if you had sprinkled fairy dust all over them, from that moment on the atmosphere totally changed and the only other moment we had was when two very large oldies thought they could fit themselves into a already packed lift, leaving me squashed at the back with my cheek pushed against the mirror which they put in these things to make the lift seem bigger, actually the mirror was cold which was quite pleasant on my face really.
Guided to our seats by a very lovely young man, we got comfortable and watched from the box, a steam of people taking their seats and the Orchestra tuning their instruments and preparing themselves for the performance.
The performance, Aptly named, Friendship Matinee (shame some of the people at the entrance hadn't taken notice of the title) Symphonic Rock, by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra was amazing.
The presenter was Ken Bruce, and his easy to listen to voice and his witty jokes kept the audience informed of what to expect, he introduced the Orchestra, the conductor David Firman and Capital Voices who were the vocalists. I swear, when they played Adele's 'someone like you' tears were pouring down my face, a truly emotional and exhilarating performance. As the Orchestra played Bon Jovi's 'Livin on a prayer' I was singing my heart out not giving a poop that I am tone deaf and cant sing a note, it just didn't matter, Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' had my daughter and I dancing in our seats, you just couldn't keep still, in just over an hour we had listened to some fantastic sounds coming from the group of people below us with their instruments. Capital Voices sort of sang at the chorus of some of the songs and it wasn't until the last song when they totally let loose and belted out the words to Queens 'Bohemian Rhapsody' that you realised how bloody amazing they were and I found myself crying again at their beautiful voices.
Exiting the Royal Albert was a completely different experience to entering it, everyone was sort of pleasantly stunned, almost as if they were all starving at the beginning and then after a massive feed they were all satisfied and left with their belly's contently full.
We walked along in the sunshine back towards the tube station but were drawn into the Science Museum, a perfect time to go into these places is an hour or so before they shut, we wondered around with only a few other customers, had a drink and a piece of cake in the café....
We had to leave as the museum was shutting, but we WILL be back as it was really very interesting and the lemon drizzle cake was fab!
Carrying on towards the tube station I remembered a little Restaurant that we went to years ago so we took the Nana's to tea at Pierino Italian Restaurant, the food was just as good as I remembered it and the Lasagne was apparently nearly as good as mine!
Sitting around our table we thought for the first time about what time our train home was, so My daughter checks her app only to find a red screen flashing up, this is when we discovered that Kings cross was at a standstill and had been for hours with no trains going out of London. At 8 O'clock we figured that the rush would have died down and surely there would be a train going somewhere near home...ohhhh how wrong we were, the tube at South Kensington was fairly quiet this was because the whole world and their mum was standing at Kings Cross watching the boards carefully, waiting for the slight change that would mean there was a train out, Honestly it was hilarious, the whole station was silent with hundreds of people with their eyes focused on the flickering screens which all said either delayed or cancelled. The second a train and platform was announced it was like a stampede in the direction of the platform, my daughter charging off in front, me with my cane tripping everyone up (not on purpose, honestly) and the Nana's lagging behind still chattering about artefacts in the science museum, the Daughter yelling...'Bloody hurry up Nana's, we need to get to the platform'.....by the time we had got up the escalators and onto the platform there were people squeezing themselves onto the train, there was literally no chance what so ever of boarding that train, this happened for the next three trains and we had successfully managed to work off our pasta dinner by doing three complete circuits of Kings Cross station. A hour and a half later, Mum notices that the train standing on platform 11 which was for Ely stops at Hitchin, Hitchin was close enough so another scene from Benny Hill was formed as we all chased my daughter through the crowds to platform 11, my 17 year old daughter yelling, 'Bloody Hell Nana's, Just get on the bloody train' as one Nana began to fret that we might get a fine for travelling on a train that wasn't going to Peterborough, To which the daughter mumbled something about smashing someones face in if they dared to suggest that we couldn't travel on this train to Hitchin. As it was, the rail staff didn't give a flying fudge cake, so long as people were moving out of kings cross and making their way home, they were happy. I actually found it very amusing, but I did feel for the commuters who had been at work all day only to find they couldn't get home, let alone get a seat on a train. We travelled from Kings Cross to Hitchin standing up but I didn't care, we were going home. When I finally got into bed I couldn't sleep and was Ironing at 3.30am this morning....so My friends, this is why I have spent the day in my PJ's xx
Ps) The lady in the ticket booth was right, I didn't loose my ticket all the while I was using the little blue pouch!
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