This is one of those days, the ones that stink, rather like last months out of date milk, left in the fridge whilst you're away visiting the parents, only to be found upon ones return in a state of cheese formation.
Sat contemplating all the things I've been doing wrong recently, rang the mum and got sound advice, which consisted of telling me to stop thinking so much, concentrate of my university degree and my horse riding and don't worry cause "he's home soon" and it'll all be fine once that happens.
Well that last bit I really hope so. He's home in only 4 weeks time, but it's been an awful long time in this weird situation and I do wonder how we are going to both react to yet another new situation, all be it a more normal one. As the time to him arriving draws closer, I can't help but feel nervous. I really don't want to be, but I know that the nerves are going to be there. They'll be directly in range with those nerves one gets, when going on a date with that person you've been eyeing up for months, in the hopes they'll ask you out and when they finally do, the cool calm exterior turns to a car crash in her best heels and frock.
This talking from experience, when I so graciously choked on my expensive french cuisine, whilst over enthusiastically laughing at one of my date's jokes, which if I recall wasn't even that funny.
Anyway, put it this way, I'm going to be bloody nervous and I have no idea how it is going to turn out. No amount of dissecting, thinking or planning is going to give me the answer (I have since found this out after spending the last two hours doing just that). Even after an almost crazed cleaning spree, which culminated in me washing my shower whilst standing in it having a kind of cleaning the shower, shower myself (it's odd but surprisingly practical), the incessant brain bantering would not bugger off. So I thought of the only thing possible to do that usually fixes this, sit down and write something.
Before I began this I wrote a list of things I think are not making me "very me" at the minute:
1. Moaning about having to have a job and do a degree at the same time...I have realised that I'm not really that bad off with a job, a lot of my student classmates do not have a job and in turn have resigned themselves to lives with the nutritional input of carrots, humous, crackers, baked beans and vodka. Also have met some pretty amazing peeps through this, so not all bad at all!
2. Not being myself enough. This one was thought up after sound advice from the mum. After spending the evening down the local pub, she noted how people had mentioned how nice her daughter was. She told me it was because I was just being myself and that myself is a great person, who should make more appearances. So that is what I'm going to do, put my "myself" jumper on, on a more permanent basis.
3. STOP churning. Oh those brain cells of mine, they do think they're making bloody lurpak a lot of the time. I know it might seem odd to talk about one's own brain cells like that, but often I do feel a constant self battle to tell them to just shut the hell up! I've decided to remember, that once something has happened, there is nothing I can do to change it and no amount of butter making will make me feel any better.
Well after all this self advising, I feel a lot better than I did a few hours ago.
Through the vast array of new situations I have found myself in, in the last six months (often taking me out of my comfort zone), I think at times I have forgotten to simply just be myself, stop worrying and start feeling happy, because really I've got an awful lot of good things in my life, even if they are a little bit unconventional at the present time.
I think perhaps I may just decide to cut butter out this year. xxx
Saturday 2 February 2013
Saturday 22 December 2012
He'll be home soon.....
Well here I am sat back on a train again and it feels only fitting that I should feel like writing something. Lately it's only been this blog that's been getting the attention, poor little Eva has been left in the cold...funny thing I've really not felt like writing about her since he's been gone. I can only speculate it is one of two things:
1. I'm no longer single and am very happy.
2. She is/was my outlet when I'm feeling the need to rant about my life through someone else's shoes, however life recently has been like living in someone else's shoes!
Since moving to Manchester there's been an awful lot of things going on!! However, they have all been things that have taken me a long way from my comfort zone. Rather like when you go to a party where you don't know anyone, the pseudo utter bullshit conversation emerges, but it is common courtesy to talk this utter bullshit to people you don't really know...this is what the english call polite isn't it?...but I have to say through all the difficult getting to know people conversations, I have met and made some pretty amazing friends and Manchester isn't feeling so much like some place I've found myself lost in.
Recently a friend came to visit and I actually realised how unlike myself I had been being lately. Whilst he was staying I felt myself again and for the first time in ages I actually really relaxed.
I knew it was never going to be easy moving to a new place so far from everything I know and having already established my life somewhere else, doing it all again is so much harder. Cue the call to mummy and then best friend...
"I'm going through the hardest time of my life, new job, new uni, new friends, no family, no boyfriend and no best friends"...
She was quick to tell me...it was me who was determined to get as far away from the homeland as possible and that of course it was going to be hard, but I'd made my choice so I had to get on with it and make the best of it....oh and 'he'll be home soon'.
I've been hearing that statement an awful lot lately. Best friend conversation went pretty much the same way. They were both right, I'd actively chosen places at opposite ends of the country for my university choices but jeez even having my cat around would be good, just some familiarity!
Oh god the crave of "normal" stuff is immense some days, but then I think oh yes I live here now, I have to make my own sense of normality and lately I've been slowly managing that. When I walk through Manchester it feels normal now, rather like the first day I felt normal in London. It was when I was walking along Tottenham Court Road, all of a sudden I realised it felt completely normal and I didn't feel like a tourist anymore, that and the fact I now was like an over zealous law enforcer to anyone standing on the left hand side of the escalator and I'd suddenly taken a great interest in the ability to read a newspaper on a crammed train at rush hour.
The train is just pulling out of Manchester, the rain is pouring outside (familiar sight I'm realising in Manchester) and memories of a few months ago are trickling back to me. The funny thing is I've not actually been on a train since he left, the last time I was on this one going this way, was when I was with him, he was fast asleep next to me with his head on my shoulder happily drooling away, off to London to wish him goodbye.
With Christmas only a few days away I'm feeling very excited to be seeing my friends, family (which includes the dogs, cats and horses), however I'm a little sad that our first christmas has to be spent apart, with just a Skype call to suffice as a xmas together....hmmm yeh Skype I've already mentioned how me and Skype feel about each other...oh and I think the constant swearing at my mobile has actually had dire effects, as it has decided today that it will not switch on....oops!
It is odd the longer he stays away, the more accepting I am of it and I'm not sure how it is going to feel seeing him again. Don't get me wrong I really want him to come home, I just don't know what my face will do when I see him...fall on the floor hysterically crying, jump up and down clapping like some mad sea lion or just stand there staring vacantly with my mouth wide open? Lots of emotions and feelings have passed through me since he's been gone, sad, lonely, angry (very at some points....mainly at my electrical communication devices), excited thinking about him coming home, utterly miserable and thinking why me? Two weeks ago I was howling down the phone to my mum "why me, I just want him home now, I'm fed up with this now....." and it went on like that for a whole half hour, until eventually she got a hold of the situation and calmed me down. Not sure what I'd do without my mum/counsellor! However, the last few weeks things have got a bit easier, I'm not entirely sure why, perhaps because I'm going home, perhaps because it's xmas or perhaps because 'he'll be home soon'.
I'm really not sure how I planned or thought it would be moving to such a new place, so far away from everyone and everything I knew...all my familiarity and meeting such an amazing man was never included in my pre move brainstorming. It just shows you can never speculate or plan how things are going to turn out.
It has been a very new experience and one of the hardest I think I've had to encounter, but I think I'm slowly getting used to it, the missing piece however is still in Australia but....'he'll be home soon' :) xx
1. I'm no longer single and am very happy.
2. She is/was my outlet when I'm feeling the need to rant about my life through someone else's shoes, however life recently has been like living in someone else's shoes!
Since moving to Manchester there's been an awful lot of things going on!! However, they have all been things that have taken me a long way from my comfort zone. Rather like when you go to a party where you don't know anyone, the pseudo utter bullshit conversation emerges, but it is common courtesy to talk this utter bullshit to people you don't really know...this is what the english call polite isn't it?...but I have to say through all the difficult getting to know people conversations, I have met and made some pretty amazing friends and Manchester isn't feeling so much like some place I've found myself lost in.
Recently a friend came to visit and I actually realised how unlike myself I had been being lately. Whilst he was staying I felt myself again and for the first time in ages I actually really relaxed.
I knew it was never going to be easy moving to a new place so far from everything I know and having already established my life somewhere else, doing it all again is so much harder. Cue the call to mummy and then best friend...
"I'm going through the hardest time of my life, new job, new uni, new friends, no family, no boyfriend and no best friends"...
She was quick to tell me...it was me who was determined to get as far away from the homeland as possible and that of course it was going to be hard, but I'd made my choice so I had to get on with it and make the best of it....oh and 'he'll be home soon'.
I've been hearing that statement an awful lot lately. Best friend conversation went pretty much the same way. They were both right, I'd actively chosen places at opposite ends of the country for my university choices but jeez even having my cat around would be good, just some familiarity!
Oh god the crave of "normal" stuff is immense some days, but then I think oh yes I live here now, I have to make my own sense of normality and lately I've been slowly managing that. When I walk through Manchester it feels normal now, rather like the first day I felt normal in London. It was when I was walking along Tottenham Court Road, all of a sudden I realised it felt completely normal and I didn't feel like a tourist anymore, that and the fact I now was like an over zealous law enforcer to anyone standing on the left hand side of the escalator and I'd suddenly taken a great interest in the ability to read a newspaper on a crammed train at rush hour.
The train is just pulling out of Manchester, the rain is pouring outside (familiar sight I'm realising in Manchester) and memories of a few months ago are trickling back to me. The funny thing is I've not actually been on a train since he left, the last time I was on this one going this way, was when I was with him, he was fast asleep next to me with his head on my shoulder happily drooling away, off to London to wish him goodbye.
With Christmas only a few days away I'm feeling very excited to be seeing my friends, family (which includes the dogs, cats and horses), however I'm a little sad that our first christmas has to be spent apart, with just a Skype call to suffice as a xmas together....hmmm yeh Skype I've already mentioned how me and Skype feel about each other...oh and I think the constant swearing at my mobile has actually had dire effects, as it has decided today that it will not switch on....oops!
It is odd the longer he stays away, the more accepting I am of it and I'm not sure how it is going to feel seeing him again. Don't get me wrong I really want him to come home, I just don't know what my face will do when I see him...fall on the floor hysterically crying, jump up and down clapping like some mad sea lion or just stand there staring vacantly with my mouth wide open? Lots of emotions and feelings have passed through me since he's been gone, sad, lonely, angry (very at some points....mainly at my electrical communication devices), excited thinking about him coming home, utterly miserable and thinking why me? Two weeks ago I was howling down the phone to my mum "why me, I just want him home now, I'm fed up with this now....." and it went on like that for a whole half hour, until eventually she got a hold of the situation and calmed me down. Not sure what I'd do without my mum/counsellor! However, the last few weeks things have got a bit easier, I'm not entirely sure why, perhaps because I'm going home, perhaps because it's xmas or perhaps because 'he'll be home soon'.
I'm really not sure how I planned or thought it would be moving to such a new place, so far away from everyone and everything I knew...all my familiarity and meeting such an amazing man was never included in my pre move brainstorming. It just shows you can never speculate or plan how things are going to turn out.
It has been a very new experience and one of the hardest I think I've had to encounter, but I think I'm slowly getting used to it, the missing piece however is still in Australia but....'he'll be home soon' :) xx
Saturday 1 December 2012
7 Week recap
Another instalment written a while ago that I didn't feel ready to publish, however here it is...
- Well that last instalment was what I wrote on the train home after leaving him in London to catch his plane to Australia...most of it very tearful. It has been an odd 7 weeks without him. Funnily enough it has got easier not because I miss him less but simply because I've kind of accepted this as something that is happening and the best will come out of it surely? Being apart has made each text and phone call more important and I can't wait until I get the next one.
So finally feeling at home in this new city. Very odd, people on public transport actually talk to each other and no-one seems preoccupied with escalator politics or newspaper reading...pity? So many new experiences. Trying to get my brain to function at the pace of a 20 year olds is definitely difficult....meaning trying to learn and remember what is being talked at me in lectures is difficult. This experience is nothing like my first one in London. When I stepped into that city, I knew people there and it felt familiar, I'd been there so many times...This place is alien, the people so very different and it is like being the new person in a class of strangers. Pretty certain I'm going to feel at home here eventually, the walk to University is finally becoming familiar, just one thing missing...
However and the missing rug
The instalment was written as I was sat on the train back from London the day after my boyfriend left, I was very upset when I wrote it and so I decided not to publish it until I felt ready, also I wanted to see how I would feel at the halfway point, well it is now 3 months until he comes home so now it feels right to publish...
"So far living in manchester has proved to be pretty good. I have a new job in a bar I love, I've started riding and have even started going to trapeze lessons every week! Life is pretty good. However and there always is a 'however' isn't there?! It's an annoying little shit of a verb, planting itself in the middle of everything! But 'however' annoying it is, it will crop up, to remind you that even if things are fine and dandy they can change just as fast in the opposite direction. Well after an amazing holiday in Ibiza I was lucky enough to meet someone very special who has since become my boyfriend. 'However' (there it is) he left to go to Australia for 6 whole months on Saturday. I'm going to miss him so much. Strangely enough it happened to fall on the weekend that I traditionally go to SW4 and Nottinghill Carnival. In a way this wasn't so bad my wonderful friends insured that I was kept suitably pissed for the entire weekend and should I start welling up one of them was there with a hug or a stupid face to cheer me up. I said to him last week that things seemed too perfect and that at some point I thought the rug might be pulled out, well now he's gone it definitely has. As I sit on the train back to Manchester, I can't help feeling like I've left something important behind, even though he's not there but 25,000 miles away on the other side of the world. Funny isn't it you spend 18 months happily being single, you then meet someone and it is all perfect 'HOWEVER' some snag comes along and makes you work damn hard to appreciate it"
"So far living in manchester has proved to be pretty good. I have a new job in a bar I love, I've started riding and have even started going to trapeze lessons every week! Life is pretty good. However and there always is a 'however' isn't there?! It's an annoying little shit of a verb, planting itself in the middle of everything! But 'however' annoying it is, it will crop up, to remind you that even if things are fine and dandy they can change just as fast in the opposite direction. Well after an amazing holiday in Ibiza I was lucky enough to meet someone very special who has since become my boyfriend. 'However' (there it is) he left to go to Australia for 6 whole months on Saturday. I'm going to miss him so much. Strangely enough it happened to fall on the weekend that I traditionally go to SW4 and Nottinghill Carnival. In a way this wasn't so bad my wonderful friends insured that I was kept suitably pissed for the entire weekend and should I start welling up one of them was there with a hug or a stupid face to cheer me up. I said to him last week that things seemed too perfect and that at some point I thought the rug might be pulled out, well now he's gone it definitely has. As I sit on the train back to Manchester, I can't help feeling like I've left something important behind, even though he's not there but 25,000 miles away on the other side of the world. Funny isn't it you spend 18 months happily being single, you then meet someone and it is all perfect 'HOWEVER' some snag comes along and makes you work damn hard to appreciate it"
Communication can be a nasty word
Well the 3 month barrier looms tomorrow, oddly it has come as both a comfort and a friendly brick through the air of a reminder, that all that I have gone through this last 3 months, I have to do all again. Surely it can't be that bad can it? Hmmm that's what I was telling myself 3 months ago, when I sat on that train back from London, wondering what it was going to feel like, what emotions I was going to encounter and how I would cope with a new life, a new uni, a new job and an absent boyfriend. The moral support of friends soon rallied round me like a protective security blanket and the word "communication" was continually flung at me rather like protesters with little white signs that ensure you definitely get the message!...."Make sure you communicate all the time, don't lose contact!! It's the only way it'll work"
Can't be that bad can it? As long as we have Skype and the telephone it'll be easy right?
It is no easy task approaching a brand new relationship, the most precious first months or the 'honeymoon period' as people call it, are where you get to know each other. We only had 7 weeks to do this and now the telephone and Skype have become our only means of dating, rather like a third party forcibly involving itself in our relationship, not the most romantic or exciting prospect. Drinking wine and having a "how was your day" conversation when it isn't even his day over there and it's my morning and he's just got up and I'm just going to bed, he's been out and he's drunk and I'm going to bed drunk and he's just getting up...confusing huh?! It definitely is. The need to keep checking the extra clock you've placed next to your UK time in your phone becomes an almost daily occurrence before "communication" ensues.
That's what getting to know someone is really about isn't it? Knowing their habits and what they are like when they're just being them. A mobile phone or a wifi connection doesn't let you do that does it? There's no way of knowing what someone is feeling from words. The telephone forces you to "communicate" and sometimes the best "communication" doesn't needs words.
The telephone is such a bastard, oh really it is! It forces you to make meaningless conversation, when sometimes all you want to do with your boyfriend is to be near them, sat on the sofa, not speaking but being together. The prospect of sharing the same air supply sounds so much better than sharing a wifi connection!
Oh the evil telephone and its kidnapping ways and the evil bitch Skype, that taunts me by showing me his face when I'm not able to touch it. What if the day you decide to talk, is a day one of you or both of you just aren't really feeling much like talking?! We're all human at the end of the day? We don't feel like talking everyday do we? It has happened a few times, one of us tired, not feeling up to talking and the conversation has fallen into silent mode on several occasions. It is neither party's fault, it is simply that sometimes, it's just nice not to talk right? Even if we've had a great conversation, after we've hung up I'm often left staring at my phone and I catch myself telling an inanimate object "I fucking hate you". Yes that's right, I actually hate my phone that has locked my boyfriend inside it. The evil object that makes "communication" a nasty word.
So how will I combat the 3 month brick wall? The same way I've combatted the 3 month kick up the backside which I've just completed, by carrying on, working hard, enjoying my new experiences and hoping that by some miracle mother nature might speed things up a bit. Fat chance but every girl has dreams right?!
I love my university, my new friends, my new found love of riding horses (which I thought was something I'd never combat again) and most of all, I call Manchester my home now and it really does feel like my home now (even with its lack of fervent newspaper readers). I just can't wait for him to be a part of it again. I feel like I've done so much since he's been gone, there's so much I want to show him, simply telling him about it really doesn't make it that exciting.
It has been hard, but it's not all bad, being apart has made me love him all the more, it makes me realise how important just being in each others company really is...I'd crave 5 minutes, to just be stood next to him in the kitchen doing something as simple and meaningless as making a cup of tea, no words, no "communication" simply trivial, unthought actions and everyday dullness! Being apart makes you appreciate the little things just that little bit more and it's going to make them that much better.
The crave of normality is immense and the urge to throw my mobile a daily struggle! So I keep repeating "it's only 3 months" or "12 weeks" as I prefer because weeks don't sound as bad as months do they? Each day that figure slowly depletes, until eventually it will be time for him to come home and the evil word "communication" will be something to enjoy not to dread and perhaps my mobile and I might even become friends again. A life of just words is not one for me, simple things are so much more exciting xxx
Can't be that bad can it? As long as we have Skype and the telephone it'll be easy right?
It is no easy task approaching a brand new relationship, the most precious first months or the 'honeymoon period' as people call it, are where you get to know each other. We only had 7 weeks to do this and now the telephone and Skype have become our only means of dating, rather like a third party forcibly involving itself in our relationship, not the most romantic or exciting prospect. Drinking wine and having a "how was your day" conversation when it isn't even his day over there and it's my morning and he's just got up and I'm just going to bed, he's been out and he's drunk and I'm going to bed drunk and he's just getting up...confusing huh?! It definitely is. The need to keep checking the extra clock you've placed next to your UK time in your phone becomes an almost daily occurrence before "communication" ensues.
That's what getting to know someone is really about isn't it? Knowing their habits and what they are like when they're just being them. A mobile phone or a wifi connection doesn't let you do that does it? There's no way of knowing what someone is feeling from words. The telephone forces you to "communicate" and sometimes the best "communication" doesn't needs words.
The telephone is such a bastard, oh really it is! It forces you to make meaningless conversation, when sometimes all you want to do with your boyfriend is to be near them, sat on the sofa, not speaking but being together. The prospect of sharing the same air supply sounds so much better than sharing a wifi connection!
Oh the evil telephone and its kidnapping ways and the evil bitch Skype, that taunts me by showing me his face when I'm not able to touch it. What if the day you decide to talk, is a day one of you or both of you just aren't really feeling much like talking?! We're all human at the end of the day? We don't feel like talking everyday do we? It has happened a few times, one of us tired, not feeling up to talking and the conversation has fallen into silent mode on several occasions. It is neither party's fault, it is simply that sometimes, it's just nice not to talk right? Even if we've had a great conversation, after we've hung up I'm often left staring at my phone and I catch myself telling an inanimate object "I fucking hate you". Yes that's right, I actually hate my phone that has locked my boyfriend inside it. The evil object that makes "communication" a nasty word.
So how will I combat the 3 month brick wall? The same way I've combatted the 3 month kick up the backside which I've just completed, by carrying on, working hard, enjoying my new experiences and hoping that by some miracle mother nature might speed things up a bit. Fat chance but every girl has dreams right?!
I love my university, my new friends, my new found love of riding horses (which I thought was something I'd never combat again) and most of all, I call Manchester my home now and it really does feel like my home now (even with its lack of fervent newspaper readers). I just can't wait for him to be a part of it again. I feel like I've done so much since he's been gone, there's so much I want to show him, simply telling him about it really doesn't make it that exciting.
It has been hard, but it's not all bad, being apart has made me love him all the more, it makes me realise how important just being in each others company really is...I'd crave 5 minutes, to just be stood next to him in the kitchen doing something as simple and meaningless as making a cup of tea, no words, no "communication" simply trivial, unthought actions and everyday dullness! Being apart makes you appreciate the little things just that little bit more and it's going to make them that much better.
The crave of normality is immense and the urge to throw my mobile a daily struggle! So I keep repeating "it's only 3 months" or "12 weeks" as I prefer because weeks don't sound as bad as months do they? Each day that figure slowly depletes, until eventually it will be time for him to come home and the evil word "communication" will be something to enjoy not to dread and perhaps my mobile and I might even become friends again. A life of just words is not one for me, simple things are so much more exciting xxx
Friday 20 July 2012
The Day I Discovered 'the' Book....
It is no secret to my friends and family and anyone within earshot that I have an obsession, all be it a healthy one, with Dawn Porter.
I was hooked this woman meant business and she intrigued the hell out of me.
Her various documentaries such as Dawn Gets and Dawn Goes, were for me some of the foundations of my understanding of what women have to deal with in their early twenties (a lot).....For me it was a complete minefield of debauchery, diets, why does he never call me, what the hell is fashion anyway, no I dont have an obsession with buying lingerie, oh my god I have no career, do I really have a drinking problem, why is my purse always empty, where did this curve come from, what's this line on my face, I have nothing to wear in this wardrobe and simple lostness and plenty of "oh bollocks" moments.
I myself was a lost little sheep wondering around in my fresh green pasture of dating, not having a clue why the only magnetism I appeared to have was for wolves rather than friendly rampant rams. I had no doubt the prick in the shiny suit with the sword on the white horse, was more likely to be riding a three legged donkey (badly), wrapped in a silver thermos blanket, carrying a dustpan and brush!
It was not until I discovered her book, Diaries of an Internet Lover, that I really found my own little tour guide complete with reference to all the sushi outlet delights London could ever possibly wish to offer me. It is by all accounts falling to bits and is read thoroughly every year about 5 times (it has also been leant to many girlfriends who have all agreed to its excellence). It has travelled to Israel, Denmark, Malta, Marbella, Cyprus, Australia and of course Ibiza (6 times). It has also been in and out of my handbag more times than I can count (it claims more of my attention than some of my store cards). There is no doubt in my mind that I shall never get bored of it and it will forever sit happily beside my favourite writers such as Lauren Weisenberg and Helen Fielding.
In my bible is an array of dates that Dawn goes on, some good, some great and some down right bloody terrible, all described with the utmost articulation of sarcasm and dry humour. Her detail is paramount and the fact she's not afraid to admit that woman sometimes just need to have a good shag and that it is not a crime for us to actually enjoy a healthy and varied sex life, is thoroughly inspiring.
She describes one evening in New York having to frantically masturbate, after writhing around like a horny cat on her bed when an insistent horn took over her whole body. Another chapter sees her visit a sex museum and in another she has a threesome with a couple. All this described and detailed without fear of shame or loathing, which unfortunately is still attached to the words '"sex life" and "woman" which is utterly ridiculous in a modern society.
I remember mentioning the word masturbation to a girl my age at a party, she looked at me utterly horrified and said "isn't that something only men do?" needless to say I looked back at her equally horrified, at the thought someone could be so naive. Why does this attitude that it's wrong still exist? Open mindedness surely is much more fun and less stressful?
Picking from Dawn's various horror stories, she describes one of her dates as the "big bambino" a man clearly mothered far too much, who ordered and sent back her wine several times when there was nothing wrong with it (much to her dismay), acted like an oversized baby, farted in her face during an incident that involved trying to climb a fence and then proceeded to cut his hand open (which was shortly followed by varying degrees of crying and wailing). This complete disaster of a date was only finally completed when she dropped him off in A&E!
It was so refreshing to hear that other woman do indeed have bad dates, one such for me, being the time I fell out of the taxi that I was trying to board (badly), the date watched on in horror as I basically sat on the pavement completely drunk with no possible means of getting myself up. This delightful occurrence was due to the sinking of two bottles of bordeaux (evil strong stuff), the poor man had endured 2 hours of vino induced garbage being force fed into his right ear, problem was he was so boring the temptation to sit and down "makes everything more interesting" liquid was far too easy to indulge, funnily enough I didn't see him again.
Other beautiful delights that occurred, included the wonderful episode whilst in fits of giggles, when the entire contents of a martini glass was thrown not just all over the table (no that would have been mildly acceptable) but the poor unsuspecting date as well, who then sat opposite staring in disbelief, that he would now have to walk around wearing my cosmopolitan for the remainder of the evening.
This I realised does actually happen to other people!! It is amazing I AM NORMAL and everybody has those horrendous moments when all you need is a JCB to come along, dig you a nice big hole and then be awfully kind enough to pick you up in the bucket and deposit you straight in it.
So there I was at 23, thrown into London like a mouse being sent on a field trip to the Cats Protection League, as ever looking and longing to find 'the one', which I now know is some evil fairy tale, told to delinquent hormonal teenage girls in a bid to fool them that dating is all about finding prince charming, I now want to sacrificially burn all my Disney videos!
I am in no way saying dating isn't about finding the one, but when so much emphasis is edged on such tight guidelines it makes an already tough journey through your twenties that little bit more challenging right? Surely you should be able to freely enjoy dating and also being single! Who needs a stinking rule book anyway, and why is that concept even valid? Who even knows the RIGHT way to date anyway, show me the expert and I shall show him where to put his rule book.
At 24, I was on a daily basis being continually jostled by the bullying big city of London and with a new job to contend with, the thought of having to navigate the dating scene alone and in a still fairly new city that no way resembled a home yet, was fast becoming a vomit inducing thought process. But as I sat on the tube every morning, practically digesting the book and eagerly gobbling up its pages full of insight and loveliness, I began to realise that actually having fun dating is a possibility and there is nothing wrong with saying "I'm single, but that is ok", plus I now had knowledge of Nobu and Roka so obviously I had to find myself a willing chaperone!
I spent the next few years enjoying my new sense of self freedom and discouraged the usual routine and self doubt, analytical bullshit and down right wailing "oh where is he" moments and I can honestly say I spent the rest of my early twenties in pure enjoyment and relaxation in the full knowledge that I wasn't missing out on anything just biding my time and staying happy along with it.
Dawn today is now in her early thirties, engaged, thinner than ever, highly successful and appears by all accounts to be very happy and here I am now at 28, no longer single, but happily coupled up with a gorgeous new man and about to embark upon a brand new city adventure to Manchester. I have only just returned from a beautiful holiday, where I again merrily finished my favourite book, whilst I lay enjoying the sun's kisses. Arriving home with my favourite piece of literature tucked into my handbag, I sadly placed it back into the gap left for it, where it now sits proudly on my bookshelf until the next time I feel the need to read it.
Thank you Dawn Porter, you really are someone I will continue to be inspired by and I hope that my book will continue its travels into the various friends handbags and overseas to be placed carefully next to my sun lounger or in my handbag should the time arise when I feel the need to dip into its tasty contents.
Friday 13 July 2012
Donation Life in Another Person’s Heartbeat
As far back as the centuries BC humans were of the mind that somehow transplantation was an achievable milestone. The first known description from 4th Century BC Chinese texts of a heart transplant was by a surgeon named Tsin Yue-Jen, they state he successfully switched the hearts of two soldiers, no reason was given for this operation but both survived. We have no proof of this amazing surgical advance by the Chinese or whether it was truly successful, however one man in 1967 was to become famous for performing just that operation, his daring work would lead the medical world on in pursuing the feat of heart transplantation. Years later the world would witness the implantation of artificial hearts and animal organs, all in an attempt to combat one of mans biggest killers, heart failure.
“It’s going to work!”
The first acknowledged successful transplant of a heart was not achieved until much further into the history books, when after much preparation Dr. Christiaan Barnard made the breakthrough. Denise Darvall, a 23 year old was to be the first ever heart donor after dying in a road traffic accident on 3rd December 1967, her
Barnard decided that the time was right and gained permission from Denise’s father to go ahead with the operation. When her heart began to beat inside Washkansky’s chest Barnard shouted “It’s going to work!” This was by all accounts a successful transplant; however Washkansky died from pneumonia eighteen days later due to his compromised immune system that was being suppressed with azathioprine and hydrocortisone to stop his body from rejecting the new heart.
Even though this may seem to have ultimately been a failure it did not deter Barnard from persisting in his quest to perfect the heart transplant. It was only with the approval of the immunosuppressant cyclosporine in 1983 that an often lethal and experimental procedure would become routine.
The waiting game
Today the biggest obstacle facing patients needing heart transplants is no longer the risk of rejection or infection; it is simply that there just aren’t enough hearts available. According to the Transplant Activity Report 2010/11, 206 people needing a new heart joined the transplant list; there were 131 heart transplants and 126 donations.
As of the 26th January 2012 154 people were recorded on the active heart transplant list. Transplant patients in the UK rely solely on the general public to join the organ register and pledge to donate after their death, however current figures in March 2011 showed that only 17,751,795 people are on the UK Organ Donor Register which is only 29% of the UK population, unfortunately not everyone who is on the donor register will go on to be a suitable donor at death so this considerably cuts down the number of suitable donations made each year.
Sadly every year many people lose their fight for life whilst on the transplant list, during 2010, 19 people died waiting on the transplant list.
Bridging the gap
Artificial hearts are now being introduced to bridge the gap that many patients awaiting transplant face. This is not altogether a new technique; the first recipient of an experimental device was Haskell Carp, it was implanted by Dr Denton Cooley in 1969 at the St Luke’s Hospital, Houston, the patient survived for just 3 days. This did not deter other ambitious surgeons and in 1982 another artificial heart designed by Dr. Robert Jarvik, the Jarvik 7 was implanted by William DeVries, the recipient was a Seattle Dentist, Mr Barney Clark who volunteered simply because he wanted to make a contribution to medical science, he was fully aware he may not survive for long after the operation, however he survived for 112 days. The next recipient Bill Schroeder would survive for 620 days.
These early breakthroughs were another lifesaving gift to the heart transplant patient, and although the early attempts required huge pneumatic power sources and carried a high risk of infection, they paved the way for the future. Current devices include the AbioCor Replacement Heart and the SynCardia temporary Total Artificial Heart, over 950 implants of the SynCardia device account for more than 230 patient years of life. The longest a patient has been kept alive using the SynCardia is 1300 days and counting.
Reasons for Heart Transplant
There are many reasons for needing a heart transplant; cardiomyopathy, cardio vascular disease, congenital heart defects, coronary heart disease, heart attack and obesity are the leading causes.
In 2009 45,000 people under 75 died from cardio vascular disease making it the main cause of death in the under 75s. In the overall population it accounted for 1 in 3 deaths killing over 180,000 people in the UK. Coronary heart disease accounted for an estimated 1 in 5 male deaths and 1 in 8 female deaths killing 82,000 people in 2009.
Cardiomyopathy affects the heart muscle itself, causing a deterioration in the hearts ability to function normally, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, is the most common cause of sudden cardiac death in young people, it is estimated that this condition affects 125,000 people in the UK.
Congenital heart disease is another contender for the cause of heart transplant. Hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), kills 95% of babies before they reach 1 month old if they do not receive treatment, before 1983 parents were told to take their babies home to die.
A prominent case in 1984 was that of Baby Fae, who after being born with this condition received the heart of a baboon, the procedure known as a xenotransplant was subject to ethical and legal debates and caused a media frenzy with some labelling the procedure unethical. Baby Fae died 21 days after the procedure of a kidney infection; however, her body had not rejected the heart.
The medical history books are filled with drastic and questionable attempts to save the lives of people with heart failure, animal transplants have so far been abandoned due to the failure to understand immunobiology and the risk of zoonotic infections and artificial hearts are only a temporary measure, however each year the transplant list adds yet more people to its pages. The best and last option definitely still is the ultimate gift from another human being, a heart donation.
The first acknowledged successful transplant of a heart was not achieved until much further into the history books, when after much preparation Dr. Christiaan Barnard made the breakthrough. Denise Darvall, a 23 year old was to be the first ever heart donor after dying in a road traffic accident on 3rd December 1967, her
recipient was Louis Washkansky who was told he was dying from heart failure.
Even though this may seem to have ultimately been a failure it did not deter Barnard from persisting in his quest to perfect the heart transplant. It was only with the approval of the immunosuppressant cyclosporine in 1983 that an often lethal and experimental procedure would become routine.
The waiting game
Today the biggest obstacle facing patients needing heart transplants is no longer the risk of rejection or infection; it is simply that there just aren’t enough hearts available. According to the Transplant Activity Report 2010/11, 206 people needing a new heart joined the transplant list; there were 131 heart transplants and 126 donations.
As of the 26th January 2012 154 people were recorded on the active heart transplant list. Transplant patients in the UK rely solely on the general public to join the organ register and pledge to donate after their death, however current figures in March 2011 showed that only 17,751,795 people are on the UK Organ Donor Register which is only 29% of the UK population, unfortunately not everyone who is on the donor register will go on to be a suitable donor at death so this considerably cuts down the number of suitable donations made each year.
Sadly every year many people lose their fight for life whilst on the transplant list, during 2010, 19 people died waiting on the transplant list.
Bridging the gap
Artificial hearts are now being introduced to bridge the gap that many patients awaiting transplant face. This is not altogether a new technique; the first recipient of an experimental device was Haskell Carp, it was implanted by Dr Denton Cooley in 1969 at the St Luke’s Hospital, Houston, the patient survived for just 3 days. This did not deter other ambitious surgeons and in 1982 another artificial heart designed by Dr. Robert Jarvik, the Jarvik 7 was implanted by William DeVries, the recipient was a Seattle Dentist, Mr Barney Clark who volunteered simply because he wanted to make a contribution to medical science, he was fully aware he may not survive for long after the operation, however he survived for 112 days. The next recipient Bill Schroeder would survive for 620 days.
These early breakthroughs were another lifesaving gift to the heart transplant patient, and although the early attempts required huge pneumatic power sources and carried a high risk of infection, they paved the way for the future. Current devices include the AbioCor Replacement Heart and the SynCardia temporary Total Artificial Heart, over 950 implants of the SynCardia device account for more than 230 patient years of life. The longest a patient has been kept alive using the SynCardia is 1300 days and counting.
In August 2011 Mathew Green, 40 became the first UK person to receive a SynCardia device and be discharged from hospital, he has since been able to return to an almost normal life. Without this device it is almost certain he would not have survived the wait on the transplant list.
There are many reasons for needing a heart transplant; cardiomyopathy, cardio vascular disease, congenital heart defects, coronary heart disease, heart attack and obesity are the leading causes.
In 2009 45,000 people under 75 died from cardio vascular disease making it the main cause of death in the under 75s. In the overall population it accounted for 1 in 3 deaths killing over 180,000 people in the UK. Coronary heart disease accounted for an estimated 1 in 5 male deaths and 1 in 8 female deaths killing 82,000 people in 2009.
Cardiomyopathy affects the heart muscle itself, causing a deterioration in the hearts ability to function normally, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, is the most common cause of sudden cardiac death in young people, it is estimated that this condition affects 125,000 people in the UK.
Congenital heart disease is another contender for the cause of heart transplant. Hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), kills 95% of babies before they reach 1 month old if they do not receive treatment, before 1983 parents were told to take their babies home to die.
A prominent case in 1984 was that of Baby Fae, who after being born with this condition received the heart of a baboon, the procedure known as a xenotransplant was subject to ethical and legal debates and caused a media frenzy with some labelling the procedure unethical. Baby Fae died 21 days after the procedure of a kidney infection; however, her body had not rejected the heart.
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