Day 40 - Rain Room

9th February 2013

I got up very early for a Saturday. It was almost painful. Before all of you with children tell me I don't know I'm born....sssh. I like sleep. 

We got up and headed out, later than expected, to go queue at the Barbican to see the Rain Room. As soon as we arrived I noted the poor queuing structure and how deeply uneasy it made me. People just seemed to be all over the place, and there were nowhere near enough barriers to prevent those with a shallow sense of morals just skipping over. Someone did it right in front of us. Fuming we were. Of course, we said nothing. We just thought about saying something.

Our queuing adventure lasted about three and a half hours before we got in. We got a lot of reading done and had a little bit too much coffee and a lot of running back and forth to the loo. At one point, near the end, we were doing our favourite bottom burp impressions. It was brilliant. 

We finally got in, and it was definitely worth the wait. For those of you who haven't heard of the Rain Room, it's an art installation. You walk into this room type...thing...and it's absolutely pouring in there. But it won't rain on you. There are sensors, so as you walk through it the rain stops. There are stray droplets, but I can handle those. Except the one that got me right in the eye, ow. It's pretty beautiful in there, I could have stayed in there for hours. No one rushes you out, but having waited 210ish minutes we were conscious that some of the people waiting in the queue might hate us entirely. 

Floodsy's in spaaace...

Stephie's in Spay-ee-ace...

We left, reluctantly, and found Lynsey to head over to a Vintage fair in Shoreditch. We are definitely cool enough for that. It wasn't completely brilliant, but I did find some pretty earrings and Lynsey a couple of dresses. The best part of the experience were the tea and cakes.

Hummunah. The buttercream was godly. The tea was from a teapot! In teacups! I was so so happy. I should make pots of tea more. We finally made it back to the flat with hair all crazy from random drops of Rain Room rain, then some of that rain that makes you slightly damp right down to your soul.

Having quoted it all day, we are now settling down to watch Garth Marenghi. Watch it. It's so worth your while.

Stephie

xxx

These are our "we're nearly at the front!" faces.

Day 39 - Defrost our freezer v 2.0

8th February 2013

I had hoped to have a more interesting photo today. But I forgot to put my memory card back in my camera. This is something I've struggled with. I take the card out and import the photos, generally fairly late, or if not late at least when I'm in bed to write the post. I get up and go and forget about the card.

Today I rushed back in from school, leapt through the shower, dried my hair and ran straight back out again to meet some people I used to work with. Some might call them "friends". Due to some of them working rubbish retail shifts trying to get a load of them in the same place is a task some people might not want to take on. We have been trying to plan a group meal out to Bodean's for months, seriously months. It wasn't going particularly well, some are harder to strap down than others, shifts are annoying things etc etc etc. We finally settled on today but numbers still weren't certain so it wasn't till earlier this week that we thought it would be possible to book...we tried...we failed.

So, instead we attempted Wahaca. I love Wahaca, Pork Pibil makes me very happy indeed. We arrived with only a small number of our party, and were told that our hour and a half wait for a table wouldn't start until they were all there. Boo. We found a Las Iguanas and had a beer before hopping back over, waiting a little bit longer before the food could happen. Then it did, and it was demolished and it was totally brilliant. I was there with six *awesome* friends who I don't get to see anywhere near as much as I'd like.

But. I forgot my memory card. Lugged the camera round with me all evening, but no card. Boo.

So I had to make do with what I could find when I got home. Last night Lynsey informed me that she had accidentally turned off the freezer for a day previously, so we decided we should bite the bullet and just defrost him. So, a week after it was supposed to happen, it finally is. Check out the iceberg at the top. That's a bag of peas and sweetcorn that's lodged in and not moving yet. I'm looking forward to seeing if anything else is unearthed over the coming days.

It's time for bed. Tomorrow I am getting up early to go and wait in a queue. Yes, I am that British.

Sweet dreams

Stephie

xxx

Day 38 - Cheese

7th January 2013

Really, what's not to love about melted cheese on crispy bread?

Little bit obsessed at the moment. The main reason for this is that I decided I was going to go absolutely crazy and get Cathedral City. I usually just get your bog standard, joe average cheese. But with Cathedral City...it's just yummy. I can't risk the possibility of it going off. So cheese on toast it is. As if that's a bad thing.

Look at that. Just look at it. That's perfection there that is. Yes there is Worcester sauce on it. It was amazing.

Now it's time for bed. Yup, at twenty to eight. I'm tired. It's warm in here. I'm comfortable.

Night night.

Stephie

xxx

Day 37 - Blood.co.uk

February 6th 2013

So for a lot of today I had no idea what I would take a photo of. I was on the phone to my mum and dad, having a bit of a chat, and they asked if I'd done my post for today. I responded that I hadn't, and that in fact I had drawn a blank as to what I could take a picture of. I thought today might be the day you got to see my toes. At one point I was staring at our bookcase of boardgames and contemplating how fun a game of Twister would be by myself. I decided it would not only not be fun, but would be a difficult picture to take.

I wandered out into the kitchen and noticed the letter I had received about donating blood. It's not the most interesting or exciting photo I could take, but it is quite an important and worthy thing to talk about.

I was eager to give blood the first time, my sister Jen took me. It wasn't traumatic, there were biscuits, there was tea, it didn't hurt all that much. I was a fairly regular donator for a little while. Then I had a horrible experience. I was there all hooked up to my little bag, but this time it hurt and stung every time my heart beat. Afterwards I felt awful, and when I told the man this I had "Well you didn't eat enough" snapped back at me. He rushed me out the door, and I was stood at Chatham bus station (in the Pentagon, back in the day) thinking "...if I pass out here...I'm just going to get mugged". I got onto the bus without passing out, but I didn't give blood again until last year. The 8th of June to be precise. This was a break of about 6 years.

This time wasn't so bad. I was pretty nervous, and as usual the haemoglobin check was the bit I hated most. But the lady this time was completely lovely, I didn't feel great afterwards, so she held the padding to my arm and brought me water at the little bed. Then made sure I had tea and lots of biscuits before I left.

So I'm determined to make it a habit again. I had booked to go a couple of months go, but came home and promptly fell asleep. I've tried to book since, but they're on inconvenient dates and the ones that are convenient are all booked up. I've gone online and tried to make an appointment for next week, so we shall see. Maybe I'll rock up with the kindle and read for a few hours while I wait.

You should all go and donate too. You never know what might happen to you to make you need it.

www.blood.co.uk

Stephie
xxx

Day 36 - Deep Cherry Brown

February 5th 2013

No, not a murderer. Or victim.

It's time to dye my hair, and I'm not always the neatest in my application. In my defense I don't miss my head by that much all the time, it's just that I used the moussey kind of dye that has bubbles that pop and tickle my head like you wouldn't believe. I resist as long as I can but inevitably end up having to prod whichever part is driving me nuts and then having a hair dye-ey finger. This is just part of the beauty of having a hair dye t-shirt as opposed to just an old towel.

This has been my hair dye t-shirt for nearly 3 years, the same colour that whole time too. It does have some grey paint on it from decorating a friend's set for a film as well, just to break the monotony of deep cherry brown, by John Frieda. I'm enjoying the build up, it won't be long before I can wear it out in Shoreditch. In fact, I probably could now. For now, I like to keep it in a drawer with just a little bit poking out. My wardrobe and drawers are out in the hall for those who don't know, so passers by see a suspiciously stained shirt. I enjoy this.

I've been dyeing my hair for...like.......ages. I think the first time I ever dyed it was when I was about 16 and that was red too. Over the years since then I've moved around not a huge amount...I've never been blonde, but I have been fairly light brown. I've dabbled in black and very purpley reds. But I'm enjoying this colour and think I'll stick with it for awhile. Tempted every so often to just go back to bog standard brunette, but that's just a bit boring for me for now.

Particularly as I dye my hair not just to have a different colour but because I am well into grey hair territory. I have been for awhile. I had my first greys in primary school, so it's not a new and terrifying thing. Though I am now noticing them more and more...I've even got little grey patches by my temples. Why am I telling the world this?? When I was at uni and dyeing my hair Zuzi used to say it looked like there were stray strands of glitter in my hair, where the dye had got hold of a completely grey hair. This was a nicer way of putting it. I think when my brother was about my age my little cousin climbed over him on the sofa and asked "Why have you got tinsel in your hair?" Ha.

I often wonder about when to stop. Not that I believe it will be any time soon, but at what point do I give up hair pigment to the gods and become silver haired? And how do I make that transition? Do I just go from being dark haired one day and strip it out and be grey the next? Or do I grow it out and look like a maniac? One of life's mysteries I guess. Well...not really. I'm sure there are plenty of people who could tell me if I asked. IF.

Four years on from the girls leaving the mansion in Pompey I'm finally happy to colour my own hair. I have happy memories of sitting uncomfortably on the floor whilst Zuzi or Bex did my hair...having to slide a little further forward if it was Bex cause I'm too tall and she's tiny...the question at the end "does anywhere feel dry?"...then the wet wipe to get all the bits on my skin. Ah. Good times. Nowadays , I'm stood in the bathroom, singing loudly, with vaseline smeared across my face in an attempt to prevent the need for a wet wipe at all. This is the best I think I've ever done. More often than not I could play a reasonable Dax.

Wait, is referencing Star Trek cool or not now? I get confused.

Until tomorrow,

Stephie
xxx

Day 35 - My spot

4th February 2013

I wonder if any of the sharp eyes among you have noticed the brown almost corduroy appearing in a few pictures so far.

This is my spot.

I'm not quite as Sheldon as Sheldon about my spot, but it is so definitely my spot. I have got the cushions pretty much the way I want them, I can see the door to watch for intruders, I can see the tv and see most of the people in the room, with only a small turn required to see Samantha when she's in her spot.

I love this chair, I inherited it from my brother because there was no longer room in his house for it. I intend to never make such a grievous error when I eventually house hunt. It's called the cuddle chair, and is supposed to have enough room for two people having a little cuddle. I have no time for such nonsense, unless it's with the wife. The cuddle chair holds one, and that one is me.

What you see again is a state that makes me happy. I have my laptop, my cuddle chair, the remote and a cake. I'll admit, the cake isn't at its best...I'm not sure I've ever seen icing creep up like that over smarties. This may be a new and scary alien life form intent on taking over the planet, one sugar shell covered chocolate disc at a time. I think it's more likely that cakes like this have never existed around me for long enough for me to observe the phenomenon.

There is a possibility that it was something not of this planet. A little while after Lynsey went to bed this evening, while the Flood and I were still up chatting, we both received a message inquiring about the strange noises emanating from the living room. We ran with it and started making strangled gasping noises, the occasional scream and shouts of "NOO!" before settling on "MWAAAAARB" over and over again. These aliens apparently made humans consume their own spleen sautéed with onions and cumin.

We got better though.

G'night.

Stephie
xxx

Day 34 - Safety first

3rd February 2013

How many people reading this are itching to turn this off? I bet I know at least three, two Murphys and a Wright.

I can't bear seeing switches left on with nothing plugged into it. It's hardwired into my brain that it is dangerous; I've turned them off all over the place, surreptitiously in pubs and hotels and with a cry at friends' houses. I noticed this one today and was just about able to repress the urge until I had my camera.

This stems from a sense of over cautiousness I've inherited from my mother, who in turn got it from her mother. It's a helpful little heirloom, if distressing at times. My brother and sister are sufferers too. It's particularly prevalent in the case of children who may about to be possibly in a dangerous situation if certain factors all came to pass at the same time. "Is anybody watching that child?" is our sadly all too constant refrain. I've been sitting on trains and watched children hanging from the rail and seeing, oh so clearly, how the train will jolt and they will fall at the wrong moment of a swing and not only will they hurt themselves but everyone else. I mentioned after watching Life of Pi how I have a thing about sharks, well I also have a similar thing about bridges. I am really uncomfortable crossing bridges, however as this is something I'm never going to be able to avoid I'm a lot more able to cope than I am with the shark thing. But on so many occasions when I am already bracing myself to cross a bridge I am further hampered by seeing children just running across without a care in the world...can't they see how low that barrier is between them and the river? Can't their parents?! It is my personal opinion that reins should be obligatory for children until the age of 18. It's just good sense.

After my harrowing experience this afternoon it's time to sit back with a cup of tea. The washing machine is going and soon enough I'm going to have to endure the further horror or ironing. Groan.

Wish me luck,

Stephie

xxx