Category Archives: Daily Life

Feb 25 2013
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Daily Life

Unexpected Item In The Blogging Area…

I did it. I finally did it.

I have popped my internet grocery shopping cherry. What’s the big deal? Well, regular readers will know I have a love/hate relationship with supermarkets – they love me and I hate them.

A fellow blogger, Steve, possibly exasperated by my constant complaining, kindly offered to send me a £20 voucher offer for Ocado (for non-UK’ers – a very posh supermarket – far too posh for me to visit in my builder’s gear) and yesterday morning, I bit the bullet. And Scottish people never turn down twenty quid.

I got myself prepared. Large sheet of paper, pot of strong coffee and a Sharpie. Ok, jot down all the heavy stuff – cat food, squash, cat food, beans. Then the things I really need – toothbrushes, fish, yoghurt, mince. I was getting into the swing of it. It was time to sign up, log in and go wild in the virtual aisles.

My last attempt at supermarket shopping online was disastrous. I got lost. Then I lost my basket and finally I was off my trolley and I fled, demoralised, bruised and battered by the whole experience. This time round, it was a doddle. I got so carried away, my total had reached over £100 within ten minutes and I hadn’t even added the washing-up liquid.

I ruthlessly went through my trolley, chucking out the 3-for-2 ice cream, an expensive skin cream, coloured straws (no idea), 2kg of pasta and a new wok. Better. Before heading for the check-out, I had a little look through the half price offers and treated myself to some kitchen towel and baby sweetcorn.

Before you can even get to the check-out, they cleverly throw teasing offers at you, but I resisted and I was let through. All paid, delivery slot booked, done and dusted. It took twenty minutes and I was still in my dressing gown, jittery after my third cup of filter coffee.

I feel very grown up and smart. I will never set foot in a supermarket again. Whoever said MS makes you creative was right – there’s always a solution to every little niggle. I have now started a list on my fridge and was dashing back and forth all day, Sharpie in hand, adding things ready for my next shop.

I just hope that when the shopping arrives, there are no substitutes. My friend once ordered a punnet of peaches and found she had been given two tins of them in syrup instead. Not quite the same thing…

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Feb 11 2013
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Daily Life

Bubble The Cat (In Pictures)

Some of you have asked to see my cat, the one I talk about far too much. Here she is,  The Stalker (Bubble). Notice she looks grumpy in all the pictures except the one where she is on my duvet, on my sofa….

Patrolling the living room, ready to trip me up…

Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, ready to trip me up…

On the kitchen windowsill, sending telepathic thoughts, ‘FEED ME’

On living room windowsill, staring at me (I’m at my desk)…

Staring at me while I’m lying on the sofa…

Finally. On the sofa. On my duvet. Happy now.

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Feb 08 2013
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Daily Life

Off My Trolley

Regular readers will know that me and supermarkets don’t have the best relationship. Since MS turned my brain to mush, supermarkets confuse me, trip me up and make me buy things I don’t want (travel toothbrush, pom-pom air freshener for the car).

I’ve successfully managed to avoid them for the last month or so, but the list of things I couldn’t buy locally got longer and longer and I finally had to take the plunge.

Yesterday was the big day. I made a cafetiere of coffee, strong and black, for courage. I gathered my shopping bags together, got my list, double-checked it. I could do this. I was ready. Drove off. Turned round. Forgot my wallet. Drove off. Got parked. Checked lippy in mirror and I was good to go.

Wrestled with trolley and yanked it into the store. Deeeep breath. Huh? They’ve changed the layout round again? Now I had to go up and down every single aisle. The Teenager needed ingredients for a baking lesson in school. He told me he needs a huge jar of Nutella (I was born yesterday) and the cat wanted to try a different brand of food.

I picked up the bin bags, the envelopes, the printer paper, the cat food, the garlic, the shoe polish. Excellent. Just about got everything on the list and avoided the end-of-aisle offers. Only the Nutella to go. The place was lovely and quiet and I glided around feeling serene and calm.

My final aisle. I swerve past a parked trolley when I hear, ‘What are YOU doing here? We thought you were ill, but you look so well?’. Oh god. It’s that mother from school. The one with the most intelligent child in the universe. I listened to her reel off the prodigy’s most recent accomplishments, made my excuses and left, zooming (wonkily) straight for the checkout.

Got to the car. Fabulous. The car next to me was parked so close, I couldn’t open the drivers door. I stomped around, then stomped around some more. With a dramatic sigh, I flung myself into the passenger seat then very inelegantly shifted myself over into the drivers seat with a lot of huffing and puffing. Drove home, chucked a meal in the microwave and sighed.

Then I got a pen and piece of paper and started my new list. Can’t wait for next month.

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Jan 24 2013
15 Comments
Daily Life

Fun In The Bathroom

The snowpocalypse has meant I have spent an awful lot of time at home, which has given me an awful lot of time to stare at the mould creeping along my bathroom walls. Finally, I have had enough.

In the old days, pre-MS, I could paint the bathroom in half a day, whizzing around barely stopping for a breather. This time, I will need to approach the project with caution, precision and a battle plan.

So, the other day, I began. After trudging up to the doctor’s for my blood test, I trudged back to the paint shop. I had done my research, and I knew I needed an anti-mould solution, an interior seal damp and finally, paint, so I asked the guy for help finding them.

‘But why do you need all that stuff?’ he asked. Well, the bathroom is exploding with mould, it’s horrible. ‘It can’t be that bad, surely, how old is your house?’ Oh dear. Obviously women shouldn’t know anything about painting or preparing surfaces, yada yada yada. I gave him my best steely look, gritted my teeth and informed him the house is 160 years old, the window sills are over a foot thick and if the damp has gone in that far, I’ve got a serious problem.

He gave in, but got the last laugh, thrusting a couple of paint brochures into my hand before I left, saying ‘here, take these, they’ve got some lovely pretty colours in there.’ I stomped home in  a mood. I don’t care if I paint the bathroom in ‘ocean ripple’, ‘chic shadow’ or ‘urban obsession’, as long as it gets done. If I had my way, I’d paint it all black so I’d never have to see the mould again.

Anyway, I am all set to go, but nothing has been done. Three reasons: my arms get tingly and numb if I hold them up for too long, my balance won’t be the best on step-ladders and I worry about suddenly get tired half-way through.  The guy in the shop didn’t quite succeed in making me feel completely stupid and girly, but MS certainly has….

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Jan 22 2013
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Daily Life

For Sale: One Cat

Our recent snowpocalypse has meant I have been forced to endure my cat’s company for far longer than is natural. For the last four days, I have only ventured out the house to buy food, have a quick coffee with friends and check in on my mum, trekking through the snow and back with my solitary ski pole.

The rest of the time, I have stayed at home. Or the cat’s home, as she would have you believe. She’s been skulking around, eyeing me suspiciously and virtually handing me my keys and pointing to the front door.

Yesterday was the final straw. I ran out of Felix cat food and bought in own-brand from Sainsbury’s. She is now on hunger strike, roaming the living room in protest, getting under my feet – not a great idea with foot drop. She randomly pounces on her toy mouse, just when I’ve got a hot drink in my hand. She leaps for the windowsill and falls off. She skids across the floor.

I have a lovely duvet tucked behind my sofa, which I bring out to snuggle under when I’m watching telly, waiting for the heating to kick in. The cat paces the room and as soon as I get up, she’s there, sprawled out, smug grin on her face before she proceeds to wash her bits loudly.

I took pity on her yesterday (why?). I was in one of those bargain stores and found a little cat bed for a fiver. I’ve recently bought a small stove for the living room and thought, how sweet, wouldn’t it be nice to see her in front of the fire, like a normal cat? So I bought it, took it home, wrapped her special blanket round it and popped it in front of the fire. Perfect.

She hasn’t been near it. As I write this at my desk, she is on my duvet, on my sofa, executing an intricate yoga move, trying to clean her neck. Don’t get me wrong, I love her to pieces, but I think we have spent too much time together. I am in danger of turning into a ranting, solitary loony who can only talk about her cat.

Tomorrow, it will be different. I am re-engaging in normal life again. I may just buy her some Felix. If she gets off my duvet….

(This is not the first time I’ve complained about my cat (tragically). You can read more about her here, in my previous post, I Used To Like My Cat)

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