Wool Socks and Stubbornness

By 10.30am I have a grand total of 5 missed phone calls. The only reason I knew this was because my brother had called Man to try and get hold of me. My Granddad had gone walk about after a heated (out of the blue) moment with my Grandma over socks and pyjamas. He has vascular dementia. They’ve recently moved back from Lincoln for extra family support. This has been the first ‘episode’ we’ve had since they’ve been back.

We knew it wasn’t going to be easy and it would have its challenges. After convincing himself that there were three women out to take his money and the post office and tax people were doing it wrong; my granddad decided that he didn’t like the ‘wool’ socks (actually cotton ones) and the pyjamas my grandma had bought for him. When she told him to calm down, he told her he would lash out – she told him she would call the police and pretend to call the police. With that he headed to the door with £40 he’d taken out of his wallet and his Tesco’s club card. No coat and no walking stick. Hence the 5 missed phone calls.

Man and I, my brother and my sister-in-law headed out to find him. We drove round the streets for about 40 mins with no luck. Plus side of this was that we did have the ultimate tour of the area. We are now well equipped to follow any trail he could possibly take to hot foot it out of there for when it happens again. Man dropped me off with Grandma to make sure she was okay. While I was soothing her, Sister-in-law stayed amazingly calm and reported him missing to the police. Man went out looking again. Everyone pulled together. Even the brand new neighbours had headed out to find him. We sent a picture of him to the police woman that showed up, now he’s on the database and they’ll know his face as a ‘walker’.

Brother, with a little help from the neighbour, found him. He’d done a good old walk and was heading to my house. We must have only just missed him. They bundled him into Brother’s car and took him to his abode. We got the call telling us he was safe and well and with my Brother. Sigh of relief. Grandma had the urge to tell the two lovely police officers her life story as she went off on a tangent. They were so sweet and patient with her – massive huge thank you is being sent out to all the officers who helped look for him. There was quite the search party for him.

A lunch out with my grandma, and a wander round the supermarket gave her a little space to cool down before we reunited them. He didn’t understand that she was mad because she cares. She didn’t understand that it isn’t him when these episodes happen and she can’t treat him like she would if he was consistently sound of mind. The truth is, he doesn’t have all his mind any more. It is dying slowly and there is nothing we can do about it. It’s dreadful watching your grandparent crumble back to a childlike state, breaking down because they can’t cope. They were the ones that always picked you up and dusted you down, making you believe that it wasn’t the end of the world when you were convinced that your world was over.  I hate watching him cry the most, it hurts my soul.

This situation reminds me that we have to be kind to one and other. We have to be strong and remain sweet because if you can’t then what is the point of being human? Be benevolent in your actions and words. It will be the different between a full on shit storm of a day or giving someone the sparkle of hope they need to carry on.

The reunion wasn’t an easy one. When we returned to my Grandma’s place she was still pretty pissed. Understandably, he caught her face while flailing before he walked out. We all sat ready to interject and put our two pennies worth in as my Grandma broke down for the third time since I’d seen her. We played council and advised her. I witnessed a touching moment when their eyes met for the first time since we’d brought granddad back to her. Their hands reached out and clutched the other. 56 years is worth a hell of a lot. With a sideways half smile and a squeeze of the hand, everybody relaxed their shoulders and the tension vanished. Stubbornness is a wonderful thing sometimes, but there has to be a little give.


Pasta etc.

Last night I forgot to mention my pasta disaster. It’s often I roam my cupboards and throw things in a pan.  Last night was no different. 

I chopped half an onion like a pro, minced garlic like champ and the chorizo was sliced to with an accurate inch of its life. It was all going swimmingly until the pasata. I couldn’t locate the damn scissors when I decided to rip open the box. Which of course didn’t work. In this instance I opted for a sawing motion with my pairing knife. It was going perfectly well when I wasn’t applying any pressure, well apart from the box wasn’t cutting and the pasata remaind inside the box. 

Pressure was applied. Stupid here; in a sawing motion, in slow motion, sawed straight into my index digit. Not my most wise move of the day. So now I’m advertising my Jams and a big fat warning of how not to open a box of pasata. My Jams are still cool though. War wounds – barely. I’ll live to fight another day, and as I do I’ll be raising money for the Poppy Appeal while I try not to saw off the rest of my fingers with a pairing knife. 

Love, L xox 

Evening Ramble

My goals for writing are slipping away and I keep promising myself that I’ll get back to it. I’m the only one who sets and aim for these goals. I’ll keep it to myself and see if I can do it, I’ve often found is to be the best method for other goals. 

I smashed the hell out of my Jamberry business goals in October. Hoping it will continue for the run up on Christmas too. It’s very moral boosting when you exceed your very  own expectations. Probably a good thing when the stupid cold/ flu thing is floating round work again. Note to self – wear scarf over your mouth and nose during office hours.

My bipolar is on a level or high at the moment, with only two minor dips in the past 2 weeks. These lasted a mere couple of days. Delusions are at present, softly humming in the background. They’ve been  a comfort, and there is no chance that they will subside. I don’t mind this, as mine are a constant and non-threatening sort. An idea which will always linger, like a religious person with their God. 

Here is to the random ramblings of a want to be writer. I’ll make the promise to be more coherent in my next post. Probably. Promise. 

Gnight hey, xox

Lipstick to Bed

Last night I had a very daft (and somewhat honest) conversation with man. It started out with me having a hot flush in this random early September heat wave we are currently in. I had borrowed his lounge pants, which are far too big. They are made from brushed cotton so didn’t exactly help with the heat. I was trying to clean up the kitchen from dinner before heading for bed and had to strip down to my knickers to be able to complete the task at hand. This lead to a manic moment where I decide that I could find any clothes to sleep in while listening to the beauty and the beast sound track (yes, singing along). Eventually, after pacing and wondering and somehow managing to find my shorts to sleep in we continued to talk nonsense for a little while with the window wide open.

In part of this conversation the topic drifted (I can’t keep my thought in a straight line when an episode is going on) we got on to me being a secrete ninja or something. This in turn lead to the sentence (and I have no idea how) “like when you are convinced that someone is always watching you or listening in to your conversations”. Now man at this time thought I was continuing the silly, he thought I was playing. Until that very moment when that statement escaped passed my lips I had no idea that this wasn’t normal.

At the time I laughed it off. This has danced on my faltering mind all day, so much so I have a stupid pressure headache. The worse part of this is I have been so convinced of this for as long as I can remember and I know it is literally nonsense. For a logical person this is a very illogical thought process. I’m conscious of my mentality and have been for a very long time. It is manageable for most parts, but some days I am full on crazy.

The mania has been bad recently. Bad enough for even me to consider a trip to the Docs. I hate the place, but genuinely worried that this is the start of something more than Bipolar. I’m hoping that it’s just a pinch of manic getting to me, but who knows. It’s bad enough I think my car might be bugged- and I talk to myself a hell of a lot in the car (which I thought was normal too, now I’m not too sure). It’s not like I feel threatened by this constant listening in or watching, I’m just conscious of it all the time. This is classed as delusional.

Today marks the first day I’ve blogged about this as a current issue. Normally it takes a while to open up about it. I don’t really know what is different. Potentially still manic, in fact I’m pretty sure I am. My concentration is crap.

Now all I can think about is the night before last. I put on lipstick before I went to bed. I was testing it out. I couldn’t get it off, so slept in the prettiest, brightest red lipstick ever. It was the most glamorous I’ve been for bed. Ever.

L xox

Call on Line One

i_m-going-crazyI think stupid is catching on today.

In my job I deal with so many different workers, and not all of these workers are full of sense. All very lovely in their own ways. The cockney lads, with the “a’wight darlin’”, our Yorkshire folk with the “fanks luff” along with the “I did some work for you, me”. Fascinating creatures, people.

After today, I came home to make tea and choosing not to cook. I went to the cellar to get out something to throw  in the oven, came back upstairs to the kitchen with an ice pop, a piece of ice for Demon dog and a loaf of frozen bread. Logic.

So my first cracker of the day was a lovely gentleman id been trying to get in touch with for the past week in order to get him set up with a payment company. This particular gent had given me his basic details, including address and phone number in order for me to forward on said deets to the payment company we use. I’d left a voicemail for him to call me, I needed his ID you see to make his file fully compliant. I’d had no returned phone call until today. “Lotty, there’s a call on Line one” And hour before the last payment was supposed to go out through the payment company. Turns out the payment company couldn’t get in contact with the chap either, they had left him voicemails and even resorted to text just as I had.

It transpires that the gentleman had given us the contact phone number for a phone he wasn’t carrying with him, nor was it working at the time. Now correct me if I am wrong, but if you wanted to be paid wouldn’t you give out a number that was correct and true? I mean, how does one expect to get payment for works completed if the contact number you pass on to get you fully registered ready for payment isn’t active? Okay so this was only guy number one. We have several of these a day.

My second fire cracker was a lovely man. We had a great chat when I was taking his details over the phone to get him set up. Really genuine honest Yorkshire man. I get all his detail, check the phone numbers twice (after what happened earlier I’m going to start triple checking) and then informed him I would send him an email to the address he had spelt out to me on the phone asking him to send me a form of ID. The question on his lips was “what part of the passport do you need” and after explaining it was the picture part with all his details on we bid farewell and I sent him an email requesting the documentation.

An hour and a half later, I hear my colleague taking a phone call from the guy. “So you just want an email address to send your passport to” he repeats the email address out to my friend on line one. I turn to my colleague after the call was terminated. “Was that my friend”. Turns out he wanted to have an email address so that he could reply to my email that I had just sent him… yes, it is exactly as it sounds. He wanted an email address, so that he could reply to my email.

No words can describe today. I really do feel like a mad-as-a-hatter lollipop triple dipped in crazy.

L xox

The Inner Monologue of a Twenty-Something-Woman

I ate ice-cream I didn’t want, and my boobs hurt. Being female utterly sucks sometimes. Wonderful and dreadful all at the same time. The emotions we have to run with on a daily basis are psychotic.

This morning my car was at the garage and mother picked me up for our random breakfast catch up. I was cold, calculated and matter of fact. Not in a nasty horrid way, just in a matter of fact way. I like this version of myself, she is ultimately the most honest – probably not the most tactful or most polite, or least sweary version of myself there is but still, honesty is best; most of the time.

Home again, waiting for man to finish on the phone and tell SKY where to shove their overpriced slow ass broadband. £50 a month + and we are getting the slow kind that lags out (not to mention the ever increasing bill). He didn’t so, politely my cold calculate, matter of fact personality decided to shout “Just bin it; it’s a load of crap, BT has a much better offer” several times in the background loud enough for the argumentative staff member to hear. Customer service = not so ‘service customer’ but more ‘annoy customer to the point of insanity’.

Picking up the old mini box, and paying the £150 bill for the much needed new wheel bearings, I was back to sweetheart again. Giggling with the mechanics as he told me I shouldn’t have been driving it for the last few months. And yes this is the second time this has happened this year. Maybe I was playing on the stereotypical ‘gender role’. Damsel in distress, who knows little to nothing about cars in the slightest. Yeah, some of that last statement is true. I will let you figure out which part.

Man and I walked to the village for something for a Birthday Gift Box idea I’m putting together for my nail wrap business. See how it goes. There is a sweet shop, not somewhere we’ve ever really been in before. But opposite there is also an ice-cream parlour. I can take or leave the stuff, but Man will eat an entire tub to himself if we have it in the freezer. With this in mind, I agreed for him to go back on our way past. And we did.

He asks me if I wanted anything. I told him no thanks. He walks in to the parlour and starts to order. The man who owns the shop is pottering around outside, a lovely chap. Starts chatting away, telling me a little about his day and other bits and bobs. Man shouts from inside the shop. Do you want anything. To which I reply no again; then he says the words I dread and love all at the same time. ‘But they have RED VELVET’

That’s it. Backed in to a corner but the shop owner and Man asking if I want ice-cream. I felt obliged. And I mean, it was red velvet after all. Never again will I go back to that place. It is a falsity. As nice as the ice-cream was, I didn’t want it.  I blatantly lied to myself, when I said yes. URGH. No excuse. So this was me being back to my normal, I’ll make everyone else happy self. I don’t like this side so much; it makes me feel guilty.

Three Saturday measure Cosmopolitans later, and feeling a little relaxed from the booze I get excited. Very, madly excited about all the ideas I have for the business. Very, madly excited because I got another order through the website. Like elated, excited and not even just excited.

Final emotion for the day was obsessive. We started with a new series, Stranger Things; and oh my good god. Done 5 x hour episodes already. Now I’m lying in bed with the window open because it’s too hot, I can’t sleep because I feel guilty about the ice-cream and I want to know more of what happens in Stranger Things AND to top it all off FEAR. My boobs feel like they are going to explode. Now I’ve heard of bloating just before your due to come on, even during…. But this bloating of the boobs can bugger right off. I swear I’ve gone up like three cup sizes in a couple of days. OWCH, actually don’t want to take my bra off in case they actually pop.

But because I am a woman; a never faltering, never failing, never quitting, woman. I will take off my bra and face the popping of breasts before 1am rolls round. I will face the fear, just as I faced all other personality/mood switches I’ve had today.

Hoping for easy Sundays with a little cooking (and no ice-cream).


L xox

Bad Mood

I turned in to work this morning after an early gym session (trying my best to get back to my desired fitness level- but that another story). I got in to find three of the blokes I work with in their usual spots but one of the very grumpy. Now I work in a recruitment agency, so tone, mood and just general attitude comes across very strongly in the office. Stress levels are always high on a Wednesday as it’s the day we run our payroll. Everything went wrong, that you could possibly imagine! Time sheets weren’t in, time sheet were wrong, guys didn’t send back documents, we couldn’t get in touch with site managers. It was difficult morning, which didn’t help with the stress levels of my colleague.

With payroll finally complete a couple of hours late, it was lunch time and said colleague is normally up and away from his desk 2 mins before 12pm hits. He is, like us all a creature of habit. Not today. Despite asking him, despite telling him to take a break he wouldn’t. He continued to work, but also continued to be a complete grump (due to work stress I’m entirely sure). It got me thinking about how important breaks are.

Yes, it may just be half an hour or an hour away from your desk or work, but mentally it makes a world of difference. I’m guilty of the same thing, or at least I used to be until I worked at my current place. It cannot be natural or normal to sit in front of a screen for so long without taking a breather. Take today for instance. I’m sure if my colleague had taken at least half an hour out and went for walk no one would have died while he was away from his desk; everybody would have survived. He would have been able to come back from lunch with a clearer head, surely making him more productive in the long run. Our attention spans are not that great. We are surely not meant to work for such long periods without a time out. Hence, lunch break being so sacred.

So moral of this blog post; step away from your PC at work and take a walk. Breath in the outside air, make an excuse to sit somewhere new and picnic with your humdrum dinner and your work mates. Talk about anything other than work, but break it up a little. You will feel a whole load better.

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Next week I’m going to try the ‘Lunch Box Challenge’ – Meaning something different and homemade every day! I’ve been sticking to soup or salad recently so it’s time to mix it up.

Don’t forget to take a break tomorrow.

Love & Best,

L xox