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Tag Archives: Bristol

Glad that week’s over…

Blood Test Kit

Image by Alegrya via Flickr

What a week! But, hey! I’m still alive! Thank heavens for small mercies and all that crap.

What can I say about Thursday’s tests, except they’re over!  I look like a heroin addict from the all the bruises and needle holes in my arms, but what the hell! I’m not comatose, or twitching on the floor in a state of shock, so that’s a bonus.

It’ll come as no surprise that I was nervous:

‘Umm… I know I’m just a smidge neurotic but, if I do go into shock after this injection, you’re not just gonna leave me to die on the floor of the waiting room, are you?’ I asked the nurse.

‘No, of course not!’ she replied. ‘That’d be far too traumatic for the other patients. And they’d be tripping over you. No, we’d definitely drag you into the corridor before you died.’

Yeah, yeah. All the world’s a stage and everyone’s a comedian, I know…

So I had the first blood test as a baseline, and then the piggin’ jab, and let me tell you, it hurt like a bitch.

And I whimpered like a kitten. I think I cried a bit as well. Don’t judge; it hurt! 

I waited in a waiting room full of flu-germs and incontinence problems, worrying about keeling over on the grubby green carpet, and tried to breathe.

Half an hour later, I heard a voice: ‘Mrs Tiny! Come through, please, if you’re still alive.’

‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘I am still alive! No twinges, no gasping for air, no rolling around on the floor and farting! In fact it was quite boring, just sitting there. I’m almost disappointed, to be honest…’

I went home an hour and a further two blood tests later.

On Friday I had my internal ultrasound thingy. Good news! My bits are still all there! And perfectly normal! I expected them to be atrophied from lack of use, but no! I am intact and healthy! Praise be!

After a quick round of shopping, The Ex and I drove up to Bristol to collect Eldest son for the weekend. And we got to meet The Flatmates! It was terribly exciting and I tried to be Ms Jolly and Cool and Trendy, but I’m pretty sure I came across as Mrs Old and Knackered.

Oh, well. I took beer, I’m sure they’ll love me  😉

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Meet Me on Monday!

As there are no hot dates in my life at the moment, I thought I’d diversify…

I may have really cocked this up, ‘cos I’m useless with links and stuff, but I think I’m taking part in Meet Me on Monday courtesy of Java on NeverGrowingOld.

It’s a way of us all getting to know each other.

I think.

It may just be a way of worming personal information out of people ‘cos we’re all just really nosy, but here goes:

1.  Do you like your ice cream in a dish, waffle cone, pretzel cone, sugar cone or cake cone?

I’ve got sensitive teeth so the only way I can eat ice cream is in a bowl, all mushed up and melted like baby food. It’s good practice for when I get really old and lose all my teeth.

Gnashers 

2.  Do you read the newspaper daily?

Hardly ever. I don’t watch the news, either. Far too depressing   😦 
If I ever come across a paper though, I will read my horoscope. In fact I’ll keeping reading through all the horoscopes until I find one I like!

A ram

Aries, you're gonna have a baaa-d day!

3.  Marinara or meat sauce?

Definitely a meat sauce. I love spag bol and lasagna. Shame we’ve got liver for tea…

Mmm...spag bol!

Oh, yum!

4.  Last time you cried?

Oh God, do I have to answer this one? Sorry, son… It was September 20th 2010 and we’d just taken Eldest son to start uni in Bristol. We unloaded all his crap into his student flat, and when it was time for us to leave, I hugged him, told him I was proud and that I loved him and just made it out of the door! I howled like a big baby all the way down the stairs and all across Bristol town centre to where we’d left the car. My ex and youngest son walked three steps in front, refusing to make eye contact with the mad banshee woman behind. ‘This is more painful than giving birth,’ I wailed. ‘No, it’s not!’ hissed the ex. ‘This time around you’re not breaking my fingers!’
By the time we’d reached Okehampton, I’d been sobbing for about three solid hours.
‘Dad, we have to stop for a drink,’ youngest son urged, sneaking a peek at my prune-like face. ‘Mum needs rehydrating…’

Image by Noah Sussman via Flickr

 

  5.  What word/phrase do you find really annoying?

 

Ummm… blank mind…. I can’t stand text-speak, if that counts. I’m fine with lol and other acronyms, but can’t abide seeing mangled messages -‘Ite, m8? wuu2? U n ur g/f in tomoz? kk brb’
Honestly! What is that? What does it mean?!

  

Aaarrgghh!

Grr! by Martin Kingsley

 

Hello Bristol!

Cabot Circus, Bristol

Image by nicksarebi via Flickr

Small favour, guys. Would you all hop over to Vicki’s blog and say hello!? She reads Prince Charming, so she’ll know you all.

Vicki shares a student flat with my son in Bristol and between me and you, she’s a bit of a darling. Last night she was cooking him Spaghetti Bolognese. He can cook by the way, but chooses not to. He’s more of a Can’t-be-arsed to cook. Unless it’s noodles.

I just hope she made him do the washing up. And clean the cooker. And the bathroom. And sort out their living room; apparently, it’s a shit-pit.

Thank-you, sweetheart for helping to keep my boy alive! I’m sending chocolate back for you after Christmas 🙂

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