Cold, flu, stuck indoors, what do you do?

It's been a shite day.  I mean shite. I awoke with a stinking headache, if headaches could stink this would of been an elephant size dung headache, which didn't seem to go away. Eyes watering, nose running, coughing repeatedly. How the hell did I get this, what the hell is going on? I'm just no good for anything and it has felt so cold, maybe this was why I just lay in bed for so long before getting up. Then I got up had breakfast and went back to bed again. It seemed like every moment I was fully conscious was a pain, at least when sleeping it goes away, until you have to cough again. Staying in bed was the best option and so it seems another weekend day where I've not done anything, not gone out, not exercised, not done anything of any value other than stay in my PJs and do the best I could to disengage with the world. It worked in most part. Why is it when you're ill every single second of illness counts, it just drags on and on and doesn't give up. It becomes a matter of getting through the next ten minutes, next half hour, next hour and then marking it off and hoping by some slim chance when you've reached this future point things are better. The dreaded lurgies and gone away, or partly subsided. It's been dragging on from yesterday and it's dragging on now, but a corner has been turned and I will admit to feeling a whole lot better than I did yesterday or this morning.

The day has been filled with TV. I have eaten for breakfast, lunch and tea the latest BBC news. Keeping an eye on the situation in Ukraine, a situation which could result in civil war or war with Russia. The Ukrainian's don't want it, it all began with a corrupt president who looked after himself and cared less for his country than he did his neighbour. Yanokovych is going to be on a wanted list by the International Criminal's Court at some future date, possibly.

I played Candy Crush and lost repeatedly on level 199, it doesn't matter what I do I just can't get past it. I must of played in excess of 100 games at this level and still haven't got through it. When you've hit your head against the wall so many times it has left a dent and the bump is sticking out at some point you have to consider this wall hitting just isn't getting anywhere. Such is the life of trying to get through level 199, I'm even beginning to wonder how Sparkling did it as she has now jumped over a 100 levels in front of me or is it games.  One or the other. I should give up because there are better things I can do with my life than play hours of Candy Crush, it is really pissing me off.

Now I'm ending the day with some films. Then to hit the hay and hopefully tomorrow morning wake up as bright as the day is long. Happy and flu free. Except for the big pile of elephant crap in my room.

Cold weather and the wrath of a pregnant woman

OK it's the 3.04.13. and now a case of being completely and utterly fed up with the weather. Spring has began and there are still snow flurries in parts of south east England.  It is crazy, this morning as waking up I took a look out of the window and there was frost on the cars. If this is global warming I don't know what global bloody freezing looks like. Everybody is wrapping up with extra clothes, although there are some idiots who don't wear coats, I'm sure the cold will catch up with them. As I waited for a train to work there was one African man who was in a suit and he had a jumper on underneath his jacket. It looked odd. But there was no coat. I'm a native of this country and I'm feeling the cold so come this evening he will be shivering for sure. It is a fact, those populations who are indigenous to a country or continent are physically better suited to it. There are even some morning when I leave the house and it's zero degrees but I feel it's not cold. The cold is more determined by the wind. It cuts through and is worse than a cold day by itself.  I've had enough. If shouting up at the sky made the sun come out and warmed everything up I'd be out there like a crazy man shouting up at the sky and waving my fist. Some days it feels like I just can't get warmed up, even at night in bed I'm not sleeping well. If I go to bed with cold feet it takes hours before they warm up and then it's morning and time to get up for work. Call me a bloody Eskimo, is all I can say. I'll go out seal hunting tomorrow so had better prepare the huskies tonight. I could do with a polar bear coat, an artificial one because I'm a green Eskimo and don't want to upset anyone. I'm just absolutely bloody pissed off with it.

I spoke to Rock Chick the other night, she is getting fatter and fatter. Standing up for hours while working is now not an option. The weight on her pelvis is just too much, but otherwise she seems to be a pretty happy and pregnant. I'm not sure if Dangerous is quite on the ball with it all though. It's lucky Rock is there to tell him what to do and keep him updated. Dangerous is the kind of person who is late to everything. He likes his bed, he likes talking, he likes food, he loves Rock and Babyfro, and his life is so going to change. I know he will do a great job, but I expect there will be a big maturity injection once Babyfro is here. After all, he's had the easy bit so far. Poor Rock Chick carrying growing Fro about and dealing with hormone swings, up and down and round about. Rock told me how one evening when Dangerous had gone out and promised to be back early how she rang him at 2 a.m. to find he was still at his friend's house. He still had not actually understood the message, when Rock says get home early she means it. As a consequence Rock rang him up. The conversation which took place was probably from a clear headed sobre Rock and a slightly drunk Dangerous, the worse thing was he began to wind Rock up, as though to be playful. But at 2 a.m. in the morning Rock didn't feel like laughing. She then went out to find a paper craft model Dangerous had made. It had taken months and was a labour of love. She took a knife to the model, which was also the model of a knife and began to cut it up into pieces and binned it. Dangerous is slow so it took him a couple of days to realise his beautiful labour of love was  missing. Rock said she'd thrown it away and dopey Dangerous just accepted it. Mind I wonder what Dangerous would of though if he'd seen her deliberately mutilating the model and smiling as she dropped the fragments into a bin. Moral of story, never get on the wrong side of a pregnant woman, and never get on the wrong side of Rock Chick. I must admit she enjoyed telling the tale. I wonder if Dangerous will learn the lesson, but for some reason I doubt he has the capacity.

My affair with Bertha continues, I love giving her a strum and when I get round to singing can't help laugh at my inability to keep to time, sound any good or know what I'm doing. I'm sure the more practice the better I'll get. I spend many evenings just strumming her strings and not even bothering to learn new stuff it's relaxing and different from anything else I have ever done. It's like being on a journey and just ambling along not worried about how long it will take to get wherever it is I'm going. All I know is with each practice session, over time I'll improve. I smile, and when I pull Bertha out of her case sometimes I speak to her gently. I hope it doesn't mean I'm nuts. We have a connection. However, I will say I'm a little disappointed with the A string second fret. She buzzes now and again and if can spoil the session. Talking about sessions. Last weekend I saw Monster Boy and we had a jamming session. He got Hilda out, I got Bertha out and we strummed. Mind I don't think he has the same dedication.  It didn't matter because it was a good time we both had. He said he enjoyed it. All I can say is never get between a man and his Ukulele, it's a personal thing.

On a cold day traveling from London to Scotland

This morning was a little bit of a rush. Getting up late and fighting with a warm bed which was very difficult. Warm beds have a kind of power, one which holds you and makes it a struggle to get out. Even when you can see the time clicking by. Just a few more minutes please. I'm not quite ready to face the world when you are so affectionate. Eventually I got up, but time was limited, I'm heading up to Scotland this very moment on the East Coast mainline. My calculations gave one hour to get ready, breakfast, wash, dress and out the door to catch a London bound commuter train. Another item besides bed was listening to the radio, an interview was taking place between the leader of the opposition and the presenter. Ed Miliband and Jim Docherty. The time pressure was mounting up now. How much of the interview I would get to hear would depend on a constant awareness of every minute. There is no way I can miss the train, tomorrow is Sparkling's birthday, it's the big five-oh (50). I hadn't looked at the tickets sufficiently to understand what kind of train ticket I'd bought. If restricted to time, seat, day etc the consequence of missing could be an additional finance. The train had to be caught. I measured each minute with half rushed pleasure and half rushed panic. However, Mr Miliband would not commit himself to saying exactly what Labour would do in respect of Europe. There are advantages to being in Europe, but I am one of those who thinks it has been a mistake. There are probably a lot of us who think this way. I picked up bags, Bertha (the Ukulele) and took them downstairs to the front door. Time check. Seems all OK, boots on and out the door, with about four minutes to spare between arriving at my local station and the train to London.

A small panic ensued as to whether I would get to Kings Cross on time and in the end made it. The tube however was well and truly packed. If I'd taken out a bottle of olive oil and doused it on, I doubt whether it would of been any easier. It was not a pretty experience and one which would of made a claustrophobic's nightmare. My feet were even cramped, there was no hand hold within reach, so I stood there balancing as best I could and at the same time swaying against other people for support. Odd, whatever was supporting my back was soft, then I realised it was a man behind me, so did my best not to lean on him. The pressure to be at Kings Cross made it necessary to get on this train. Normally I'd of been put off by it, let it pass by and wait for another, but time was ticking. At moments like this a watch can be a good and a bad thing. I don't wear one, not at the moment anyway.

At Kings the 10:00 a.m. Aberdeen train had already arrived and passengers were boarding. There was plenty of time on the clock. Nearly twenty minutes. I could of missed that tube and got another, but at the time who was to say I'd make it? Now I sit travelling on the East Coast mainline northwards. I'm facing forwards, which is always nice, looking out the window, typing and moving at about 50 m.p.h. it's not at full speed, but the scenery is amazing. Every field, every tree, has white frost, if not a layer of snow on it. I see fields which were once water logged, they still remain water logged, but now the water has turned to ice and formed iced over ponds. Sheep stand like statues, their heads down and their thick woollen coats with a dusting of frost.  Heads down they still seek a morsel of grass to eat. At this moment in time their coats are the most valuable thing in this world. I noticed, When boarding the train the guard announcement.  Passengers should close windows wherever they saw them open and keep doors closed. I don't think anyone is stupid enough to let a window be left open. For at 6 a.m. this morning it was minus 9 in Newcastle. The train had been cold travelling down to London. Air conditioning and heating were turned up full. It felt pretty warm to me. I took my jumper off shortly after sitting down. Now two hours into the journey it is on again. I can feel a draught. We hit York. The platforms are nearly deserted, a few hardy travellers huddled on the platforms close together, they must of just came out of a waiting room. Slowly the train comes to a stop and the people head for doors.

I think we've had it easy weather wise this winter, it was always on the cards, if Chrimbo was mild then the chill would be delayed to January come February time. The way the weather has changed has been helpful. It's been slow and given everyone an opportunity to adapt to it. Physically I feel prepared for it, unlike going into winter and the sudden decent into radically cold temperatures. You can never be prepared for that kind of change. Or maybe I just say this because the seat is warm and it is easy to comment when all you have to do is be docile for 5 hours, make no effort to do anything else than just enjoy the journey. Looking out of a window and wondering at what temperature does frost begin, how beautiful it is to see every bare tree branch grow it's own white hair of age, they look brittle, delicate and exposed. The landscape takes an altogether cheerful, white bright appearance, as the normal dull, dark ploughed fields are masked. Solitary birds venture to fly, how they must feel the chill. Scotland, I'll see you soon, jumper, coat and a goatee beard I'm prepared. And Sparkling the biggest hug in the world has your name on it.

It's cold out and the diabetic is at it again

It seemed cold last night, no matter what position I got into there was a chill just on the edge of my nerves and I couldn't quite get a log like sleep. When I left the house this morning there was snow on the grass. It had melted from the pathways and roads, but was still settled on the tops of garages and wheelie bins this was a sign of how cold it had been last night.

But sleep hasn't been too bad over the last couple of days. Momma had been careful with her sugar intake, possibly because she had been asked to provide a urine sample. I get home and then find there an empty tin of mixed fruit segments in light syrup. In the last hour she has popped up to the toilet three times. I guess it must mean she did provide her urine sample, now it doesn't matter how much sugary foods she eats, all that matters is she will get the all clear on her sample and think she is a good little girl. Regardless of the long term effects on her health, let alone my own mental health. Tonight it may be back to the old routine, where she gets up every 30 to 40 minutes to urinate. I really can not put up with her consistent urinations throughout the night, I am getting mentally deranged by it. She is torturing me by not letting me sleep and she knows it. She knows it because she gets a disturbed sleep as well. What do you do with someone who is in total denial, or is unable to deal with a health condition in the way they should? I had thought of putting super-glue on the toilet seat, if she likes to piss, well, she may as well be stuck to the seat and not bother with doing anything else with her life.

I read diabetes is the silent killer. A lot of people have it and don't realise they have it. There are many synonyms, frequent urination, hunger, loss of weight, tingling in the extremities, yeast infections, blurry vision, itchy skin, slow healing, constant thirst etc etc. Momma eats a lot, has a constant thirst and so urinates a lot, so these ones stick out the most for now. Apparently weight loss occurs because the body eats muscle not fat to feed itself so it's a bad kind of weight loss. The craving for food is related to carbs, the more you want them the more you eat them and in turn the more you want them. Carbs are probably one of the most subtly dangerous food stuffs around. Now wonder actors like Brad Pitt no longer eat them. Perhaps I should give them up and will then cease to be fat and balding and become slim, long haired and a hunk. Move over Brad the competition is here. As if.

It will be cold again tomorrow, the forecast is snow. I'm going to have to get out those boots which hurt my ankles and try them on again. They hurt one ankle actually and it leads to me walking slowly because of it. I've been checking the shoe shops by my local ones just don't seem to have a style and type of boot I like. You have to try these things on, it's no good purchasing from the internet when it comes to shoes, they fit differently and size differently. The only person who makes money out of shoe purchases is the post man. Anyway, tomorrow is another day, things could change. The sun may come out and Momma's diabetes could disappear, pigs could also fly.

Fat and feeling the cold

After a wonderful holiday with Sparkles in Malta, where they like cats by the way, I've come back feeling a little fatter than usual but also finding I can feel the cold more.  Even though it is not particularly cold at all.  In Malta in November I was walking about in a T-shirt.  In London, in November, it's not going to happen.  However, as I said for this time of year it is pretty warm here.  Autumn hasn't fully got into gear as there are still leaves on trees, there has been no frost I can speak of, but it has been dreary and overcast.  So, the Russian like depression of going days without actually seeing sunlight is here.  Which for some reason I read was an inspiration to Russian writers such as Chekhov and Dostoevsky.  What I do know is days or weeks or even months without sunlight can be depressing.  Yes, months actually does happen.  Further is the feeling of cold.  In Malta their cold days are probably in the region of about 16 degrees Celsius.  In London, a winter day can be minus 16 degrees Celsius and over night even less.  Not all the time I'll add because it's certainly not as cold as other countries.  But we are really never properly prepared for it, we still engage in cheap fashion clothes than practical functional clothes most times of the year.

When I wake up I am feeling the cold.  It could be I am still shaking of a cold virus I got while in Malta, which I'd put first down to drinking the water, but maybe it was just a cold.  Is it the weight thing I ask myself? Maybe a few extra pounds in weight means a few extra shivers.  Or worse of all could it be related to getting old.  The nastiest of all problems which only gets worse and never gets better.  Unless you happen to be Benjamin Button.  Or quite possibly it's because Malta was mild and warm and I quite liked the mild warm effect for a few days.  Perhaps it really is a process the body has to acclimatise to, going into winter.  They say it is possible to get used to practically anything at all.  I mean, soldiers learn to sleep while bombs are exploding all around them.  I once saw a documentary about a man who had an ability to endure the cold more and swam or ran while there was snow and ice about, wearing very little clothes.   The body can acclimatise, it's just a matter of having the balls to acclimatise.  Putting yourself out there.  Just doing it.  I know one thing, sitting still doesn't help.  Sitting at a computer, typing away generates very little in the way of heat.  Even an energetic key basher wouldn't create a great deal in the way of body heat, though they would be pretty noisy.  If I sit still on the weekend and do nothing I will be unhappy all weekend, just waiting to get to the fish factory, where I can sit still and feel warmer than in the house.  Perhaps it is the house.  The house has not been engineered to suit adequately the climate lived in.  It's just the basic bricks and mortar and that is the problem.  I don't know.  Just it's not good to feel cold toes when we don't even have snow on the ground.  I'm going to have to get out there and do something.  Move, generate heat, exercise, anything.

The morning mist looks like it is lifting.  Sitting in it's place under the stairs in my bicycle, it is now crying out to me.  It's saying "take me out, ride me, cycle those little leggies," and if it is not saying such a thing I must be having auditory hallucinations.  Yes I am.  It's gone quite again, but now my toes are getting unhappy.  They are rebelling.  Great.  The little fat man is going to get some exercise.  Well it was going to happen one day.