I might be a bit rusty…it’s been a while

Well hello there!  It’s been quite some time since we last crossed paths. I thought I was overdue putting pen to paper (or rather, digits to keyboard) and updating you on my antics.

A lot of time has passed, so here is a synopsis!

December

We celebrated an early Christmas with family, and as we were getting ready to head off, I began packing the car with the Secret Santa stuff, games and our offerings (a token salad).  Darren got side-tracked and spent about fifteen minutes talking to the farm handyman about “man stuff” (read as: the conversational content was boring to me).  I went in and out of the house about seven times, smiling politely but secretly sending vibes to say: “we need to leave sharp-ish”.

We had a lovely time devouring lots of beige delights and plenty of sweet treats, partaking in a Crimbo quiz and enjoying our prezzies.  Darren and I got home over six hours later, as we had popped to town to buy my folks an airfryer before our festivities.  The Winter had brought an early dark and chilly evening, so I was relieved to open the door and switch on the hall light and the heating.

However, something felt…well a bit odd.  I noticed there was tinsel hanging off one of our pictures in the hall and there was a small pile of rocks and fossils in the middle of the floor.  I backed out of the door and informed Darren, who cautiously entered the house, armed only with leftover sausage rolls.  I followed gingerly and we discovered more bedraggled tinsel in the lounge and pictures knocked over on the windowsills.  Unaware of any local earthquakes, I queried “it must be an animal.  Right?”  A squirrel perhaps?  I checked out the kitchen area, which appeared to have suffered the least.

“Nope, it’s a bird” Darren called from the front room.

Bird shit.  Absolutely everywhere.  In every single room.  Carpets, walls, tiles, photo frames, chairs… But where was the little blighter (or big blighter – there was a lot of poo)?  I was praying it wasn’t a dusty old pigeon.

We searched and searched, whistled in the hope it might respond, and tried not to come across as too scary, channelling our inner Attenborough.

And there she was, a round robin sitting in the middle of our Christmas tree.  We couldn’t help but feel terrible for the poor thing, having been stuck in our house for half a day (without TV or music no less) three hours of which were in the dark.  We managed to coax her out, but she flew past the open front door three times.   I was rubbish – as you would expect – and every time it flew towards me, my arms outspread in an attempt to wave it towards freedom, I covered my eyes, cowered and screamed.  Not entirely sure why, I think it was the flapping.

Eventually she flew out and under the cover of Darren’s beloved Golf GTI.  We had a mass clean up and then enjoyed a well-deserved Orange Truffle Baileys.

To this day I am still finding little “Christmas presents” on random ornaments.

 

January

Having been newly diagnosed with type 2 Diabetes (thanks genetics) I was doing some “swaps” this year ie. wholewheat pasta instead of white spaghetti, brown rice as opposed to white etc.  Feeling snackish, I decided to use up the last grains of orzo for my lunch one day.  I took it out of the cupboard, opened the lid and proceeded to spill the entire contents over the kitchen side (and floor).  Sigh.  I rescued about 75% and popped it in the saucepan to cook.

Planning to leave the house shortly, I went into my bedroom to get ready.  It was quite a novelty as I hadn’t been “out out” since KFC and Cinderella the week before.  Stripping down to my pants and bra, I cleansed and moisturised, concealed, and then it was time for my usual “natural look” ie. enhancing the good and disguising the bad/old/knackered. Forgetting that my step-daughter had been using my make-up brushes on New Years Eve for our panto outing, the lovely nude eyeshadow I applied was laced with purple glitter.  It was too late to reapply, so I covered it up with what turned out to be blue glitter.  FFS.  I looked like I had either been punched in the face, or was an applicant on Drag Race UK.  Particularly in my animal print bra and makeshift-pineapple hairdo.

And then…what the hell was that smell?  It was like hot plastic.  I assumed it was coming from outside – something farmy –  so shut the window and carried on trying to dampen down my “look”.

Then it occurred to me: the bloody orzo!  I ran(ish) down the hallway into a smog of burning pasta – tonight Matthew, I’m going to be….Ru Paul!

The toxic stench of crusty saucepan twinned with the piercing smoke alarm was doing nothing to calm my nerves.  I flung the front door open, baring my Kat Slater ensconced boobs and wafted the alarm with a turmeric stained tea towel.  All I needed was a half-smoked cigarette and glass of gin and I could have been an extra in Eastenders.

 

February – April

In addition to the diabetes, my eyesight has definitely deteriorated, my knee lump is being investigated, and I have been suffering with a terribly bad back since before Christmas.

I often remind Darren how lucky he is to have met me in my prime.

Is this what middle-aged means?  Emotionally lost, mentally drained and physically falling apart?!  If so, I’d like a refund please….

Seriously though, I have felt pretty rubbish the past few months.  I haven’t been up to going for a lunchtime walk – or hobble in my case – not helped by the lack of Springtime sunshine.  I’ve felt exhausted most days, done a lot of comfort-eating and wanted to hide away.  More recently I have been recovering from an Easter chocolate hangover.  This week I have eaten green beans and carrots three ways:  fried with bacon and garlic; in a curry; served with a delicious roast, because my body was crying out for nutrients.

I have also felt flat – not my stomach unfortunately – and pretty much “blah” most days. And I often have to remind myself that time is precious and to have the opportunity to age is a privilege.

Around October last year I had a very scary time with my parents.  My mum had been unwell for a while, which climaxed in an emergency operation.  She was in and out of hospital for weeks and consequently was struggling to recover both physically and mentally.  On top of this, she also suffered with delirium and if you haven’t ever witnessed this with a loved one, I can only hope you never have to.  It was truly awful to see my mum in the state she was in.  I wasn’t sure she would ever be “my mum” again.

For months I had to advocate for both my parents, to try and obtain some appropriate support, and it made me even more aware of the fragility of life.  There were times when I cried so much it hurt my stomach and my face.  I don’t know what I would have done without the comfort of my friends and family (you know who are, you amazeballs lot) and the support from work.  And Darren….what an absolute rock.  My diamond.

Anyway, I think I am still suffering from the after-effects of that trauma and am not quite back to my jolly self just yet.  But every day is a step on that pathway.

Come on 2023, there’s still time to impress me….really, you can start any time….

Oh, and my mum and dad also got COVID during this time.  Just saying.

*****

So that is a whirlwind recap of my life.  Hope it wasn’t too depressing towards the end there.

I mean, there has been the usual Hot Fuzz activity in the village as well, par example:

This weekend I shall be embracing my hidden talents and acting as one of three drunken maidens in the local St George’s Day play.  I met up with the other two maids a few weeks ago, but we only went through one verse and then we just drank red wine.

Although I guess that could technically be classed as rehearsal?

 

Last weekend I popped to the petrol station to send a Vinted parcel, and encountered a very stinky farmer at the counter.  His wellies were coated with a dry, crusty brown substance and the pong of manure was overpowering.  I stood in the queue holding my breath and wondering why I could hear a meowing sound (as if there was a kitten in the ice cream freezer – side note: I did check and there wasn’t) shaking my head and deducing that it was probably my hearing going, adding to my general state of dilapidation.   I took a rather large step back as the man left the building, then exhaled and raised my eyebrows to the cashier, who smiled knowingly.  I turned to leave and the bloke behind me also smiled, nodded and said “yeah, he smells like that all the time.  We call him “Cow Shit Steve.”  I couldn’t help but laugh….

Cashier: “Do you mind leaving the door open on your way out”

Oh, and the mewing sound?

A rogue peacock #countryliving.

*****

You must be bored by now, so I shall end with this little gem:

Yesterday, on the way home from my knee appointment I stopped at Lidl for essentials:

• Greek yogurt
• butter
• loo roll
• hazelnut croissant (yes, as I said, essentials)

I took my purse out of my bag, paid, and went on my merry way.  Before leaving the store I decided it would be a good idea for a toilet break (again, middle-aged) so popped back round the aisles to use their facilities.

Back out in the car park, I opened my paper bag of pastry goodness and took a bite, knowing my dinner would still be a way off.  I had to laugh at the two cars passing me: the driver in one scoffing a pan au chocolate and the passenger in the next, biting into a fresh baguette. Great minds.

I brushed off the crumbs, deposited my goods in the back and sidled into the front seat. I spent a few moments fishing around in my handbag to locate my phone. To my horror, I realised I had called the dentist 4 minutes and 52 seconds ago and was currently leaving a voicemail for the receptionist.

As yet, she hasn’t called me back to ask which Pink song I was whistling whilst having a wee.

xxx