tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117977782024-03-07T22:05:08.814+00:00Terri's Web StuffI'm a Saffa in a Strange Land...Welcome to my world!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.comBlogger295125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-80289417985163037512009-07-10T17:08:00.001+01:002009-07-10T17:12:04.781+01:00What do you see when you look out your window?From my desk I can see the top few floors of the buildings on the next block. <br />Building 1 is a social housing type apartment block. The residents wear track-suits and yell a lot and I'm fairly sure many of the conversations we witness during the day could very well be drug deals. But who am I to judge.<br />The building next to that is an office block. Slightly bedgraggled flowers in pots occupy window sills next to stacks of papers and pen-holders, and the window-blinds are always rolled up. Occasionally I see people moving around in the murkiness inside; probably, like us, getting up to a) make coffee b) have a meeting c) potty / smoke break or d) lunch break. Not terribly interesting.<br />Building 3 is the prettiest of the lot. It has been built in the manner of the French style, with rooms in the roof, so to speak. I think it is an apartment block because the windows all look different from each other. I never see signs of life, leading me to believe the people who live there are not home during the day; i.e. they have jobs or go to college or do whatever else fills their lives... Except for the window on the end, second from the top. It seems a young couple live there. Every morning at around 11:50 Rapunzel flings the window open as wide as it will go, and smokes a cigarette, blowing the smoke outside. I notice the time because it's 10 minutes before I head downstairs for my own midday fag. She obviously doesn't want the apartment to smell of smoke; my guess is she is house-proud - there are 4 healthy-looking potplants on that window-sill and the curtains are prettily draped. And yes, I call her Rapunzel because she has really long blonde hair.<br />Her flatmate is as just as predictable but much more disturbing. He must work night shift because every afternoon he arrives at the window for a good ol' stretch as if he's just rolled out of bed... stark naked. It's kind of distracting, for example if I'm on the phone with a colleague and I happen to glance out of my window just at that moment to see yer man in all his glory exposing himself to the Universe - does anyone remember the whole "Ugly Naked Guy" debacle from <span style="font-style: italic;">Friends</span>...?!<br /><br />Yep, sometimes my life is just one big sitcom.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-21639699339080961082009-06-18T20:16:00.005+01:002009-06-18T20:32:56.203+01:00Holiday snapsHello all! (All being the 3 of you who still read this blog. You're still there, aren't you?)<br /><br />Well we're about half way through our holiday and having a ball but man, being on holiday can be tiring. I've done more socialising in the last week than I have in the last 6 months.<br />And I caught a cold. But that's OK, I'm surviving and it's great to be home.<br /><br />The weather is great - as expected, warmer here in mid-Winter than Dublin is at the moment where it is mid-Summer. Our neighbours, who are travelling with us, can't quite get over it.<br /><br />We spent the first 3 days in Cape Town and an old friend of ours was kind enough to play tour guide and show us around the place. He even stopped regularly so I could take photographs, although the temptation to disrupt my photography almost got the better of him outside the Brass Bell in Kalk Bay...<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348750076302706610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIQDmvRguwt6gE5I5IkQ769sDVCGnqfZoOKcksS85Suk0_Wl1cRojWdt6W3hr_5lSmTU2mSBZ-Chc3VigveZleijwrAzvNib89WSQaloehZAT1a0vHSICwOubr10pgPwEW5xY/s320/up_DSCF0836.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p>We hired a car and drove from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth, breaking the trip into 2 days so as not to overwhelm our Irish friends too much with the vastness of our beautiful country. </p><br /><p>I was glad we decided on this. Normally Hubby would be in such a rush to get the 800km drive over with that there's no way he would have stopped for me to take arbitrary pictures such as this one...</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348751427696491218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWZUU_lpONYh3g376rlAv_kLQjJNoGpZREEEEB8B17UT3uSeHFVsTNKUeUewpnZXNpQ0jUAvthg7KnKeo0F8fS4NZlPY51DvGfTWzKCXX8Yl21-5vJPdB4FCdUt-aghXNPcSl/s400/up_DSCF2871.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p></p><p>But he did, so I could, and you lucky things are the beneficiaries.</p><p>Well since getting to Port Elizabeth we have been on the go non-stop. There are so many things going on I am not even going to scratch the surface of them now. To be honest I am sort of on auto-pilot right now, hence the fluffy photo post. It's about all I can manage but I sort of needed to do something to take myself away from reality for a few minutes. I'd forgotten how draining it can be to come home, sometimes.</p><p>We're going to see some lions tomorrow (hopefully) and this weekend we're heading off to a game farm where the lads will do some hunting and we gals will probably do a lot of book reading and nail painting. Aaah, some rest, at last...</p><p>:-)<br /></p><p><br /></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-88390341025101629552009-06-08T17:30:00.003+01:002009-06-08T17:31:30.713+01:00Little Grey Meltdown<div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What exactly are the symptoms of a mental breakdown? How does a person know they're having one?</span></span></span></div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Or 'burnout' for that matter... are they the same thing?</span></span></span></div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I look around me at all the people going about their daily lives without problem or issue or interruption, mundane smiles and normal expressions on their faces and I wonder, "<i>How the hell do they do it?</i>"</span></span></span></div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Here I sit, at my desk, the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely are the earphones playing the beautiful music of Rob Thomas in my head. Or the sassy tones of Daniel Powter. Giving vent to my expressive side. Because heaven forbid I should express myself at work - that is Simply Not Acceptable.</span></span></span></div> <div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The Little Grey People, you see, among whose millions of numbers I am counted as one, are not allowed to be expressive. We sit at our desks, shuffle papers (or, as in my case, tap on keyboards) and smile benignly at one another, then go home to our standard-design houses in sprawling estates and do what all the other Little Grey People do, week in and week out.</span></span></span></div> <span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="573292208-05062009"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I'm afraid I don't think I can do this anymore, though. I'm afraid that if I live the life of a Little Grey Person for much longer my head may just explode and that would just be terribly, terribly messy.<br />Luckily for all concerned, I am about to go on holiday. "<i>Again?</i>!" I hear you ask. Yes, again. Hubby and I are going back to South Africa for 2 1/2 weeks, and this time our friends / neighbours are coming with us. (This one of <b>those</b> ideas... born in a bottle of wine while watching the home movies we've been transferring from video tape to DVD... They wanted to see what our homeland looks like, the next thing you know we're booking flights!)<br />So anyway, yes, another holiday. And not a moment too soon.<br /><br />It doesn't sound like the life of a Little Grey Person, does it? Then again, how often do I update this blog? Only every time I have something interesting to share. In fact most of the time I fudge it, in fact. Sorry about that. I'm hoping that will change shortly though.<br />Watch this space.</span></span></span>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-1128982004747725322009-05-23T22:52:00.000+01:002009-05-24T00:05:12.517+01:00Soundtrack to The Life Of Terri<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr-f2uyKWP-zrRupKoQU1hG7pK7zrwIVML9Q2dExP9k4kZ0S2QKoX1ZHGzzyWuFcYgCSvarOQW0LW_mLNdXT9MGqEUzKNiOCKx4XkkvJ3NIUIOKWQdXo20X2eIpkf-1hZQLT9/s1600-h/PICT0006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr-f2uyKWP-zrRupKoQU1hG7pK7zrwIVML9Q2dExP9k4kZ0S2QKoX1ZHGzzyWuFcYgCSvarOQW0LW_mLNdXT9MGqEUzKNiOCKx4XkkvJ3NIUIOKWQdXo20X2eIpkf-1hZQLT9/s320/PICT0006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339158257069518050" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I started writing this post a very long time ago - 2005, in fact. I kinda borrowed it from fellow blogger </span><a href="http://underachieverscorner.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Undr</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, who has long-since departed the blogosphere (more's the pity). He was a really nice guy, and I'm sure he won't mind me using his idea.<em></em><br /><br />The idea is to compile the soundtrack to the movie that is my life.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This is <strong>not</strong> my list of favourite songs - not even close. They are just songs that have very strong memories attached to them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I guess mine goes something like this:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rhinestone Cowboy</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(Glen Campbell)</span> - It's the first song I remember knowing the words to. I must have been all of about 4 years old and I remember dancing around in the kitchen when it played on the radio while my mom was doing whatever it was that moms do in kitchens when one is 4 years old.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Dancing Queen (ABBA)</span> - Memories of cold winters in the Transvaal (South Africa), me and my sisters dancing to this in our pyjamas in front of the old asbestos heater in the lounge after we'd had our bath on a Sunday evening. I'm sure our parents were mightily entertained.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen) </span>- Makes me think of my oldest friend, when we were kids and our parents used to have parties together. In hindsight I'd say there was an awful lot of beer, etc, consumed by our parents. We were oblivious, happy just to have long days and nights to play together.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Cracklin' Rose (Neil Diamond)</span> - We gave my father a Neil Diamond tape for one of his birthdays when I was a child and we listened to it in the car on the way to a weekend away at a hot springs resort called De Bron. I got dunked in the swimming pool that weekend and it scared the wits out of me. I also ran full-tilt down a hill and smacked into a split-pole fence (I just didn't see it!) giving myself an almighty black eye. D'oh!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel) </span>- Another car song that reminds me of my dad, and my sisters, because we all love it and my Mom still has the LP at her house. Hey, I just noticed the connection to #4..!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6. Lawyers in Love (Jackson Browne) </span>- One of the first songs I remember from when I first started taking an interest in the Top 20. Cool song, and I still love it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7. Two Tribes (Frankie Goes to Hollywood)</span> - Aah, my first boyfriend... He was shorter than me, and when he dumped me (via a note passed across the classroom) he told me I was too pushy and should go burn my bra. The laugh was on him - I hadn't started wearing bra's yet, haha!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8. You Win Again (Bee Gees)</span> - From the first time I heard this song I knew it would make #1. I love being right!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9. You Spin Me Round (Dead or Alive)</span> - Ooh, my first French Kiss... I didn't have a <em>clue</em> what to do!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">10. Wake me up before you go-go (Wham!)</span> - Dancing in front of the TV with my oldest friend and singing our heads off. Puberty, eh? Oh wait, I still do that ;-)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">11. Last Christmas (Wham!)</span> - Hm, 2 "Wham!" songs in a row? My first unrequited love - someone told me I had a crush on him so he asked me to dance to this song, and I thought I was in heaven. That was really nice of him, don't you think? One of those far too infrequent random acts of kindness.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">12. With or Without You (U2)</span> - I kissed my first Serious boyfriend to this. It was the 80's; a time of tight jeans and big hair. Needless to say none of it lasted.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">13. Locomotion (Kylie Minogue)</span> - My final year in high school - what a party! Kylie pretty much summarises it... (ooh, and there was also that Beach Boys song that year... "<a href="http://www.bestlyric.com/lyrics/Beach%20Boys/Kokomo/4B101C5D0F7872710B68">Kokomo</a>" - good times...!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">14. Sealed with a Kiss (Jason Donovan) </span>- He broke my heart...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">15. Unchained Melody (Righteous Brothers)</span> - Always made me cry because of the movie "Ghost", but then hubby dispelled all of that by dancing to it with me when we were on holidays in the Canary Islands a few years back. We were the only two people on the dance floor and it was <em>incredibly</em> romantic :-)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">16. Black Velvet (Allanah Myles) </span>- My party years as a student. This particular song always brings to mind my very good friend, who has the voice of an angel. Sadly, we're not friends anymore, in the way the world taught me I could expect to get kicked in the teeth when I'm not expecting it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">17. I Can't fight this feeling (REO Speedwagon) </span>- First time I danced with hubby, long before he was my hubby. He sang this softly in my ear while we danced and I still think of it as "our song". The lyrics could've been written for us, and tug at my heart every time I hear them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">18. Truly Madly Deeply (Savage Garden)</span> - Rang out at our wedding after the signing of the register. I chose it because of the </span><a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/savagegarden/trulymadlydeeply.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">lyrics</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">19. Angels (Robbie Williams) </span>- I went mad on Robbie when we moved over to Ireland because you couldn't go half an hour with the radio on without hearing one of his songs. I was on a bus going to work one cold, dark morning, and when <em>Angels</em> came on the radio the bus driver turned up the volume just a tad, and <strong>everyone</strong> on the bus fell completely silent until the song had finished.<br />Then there was me and 135000 other people who sang it 'unplugged' at his concert in Phoenix Park here one summer... magic!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">20. Pretty Woman (Roy Orbison)</span> - The "Thelma & Louise" moment of my life: driving through the countryside in Cyprus with my sister, wind blowing in our hair, sun shining, and us singing our hearts out with not a care in the world!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">21. </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rhapsody.com/matchbox-twenty/more-than-you-think-you-are/unwell/lyrics.html">Unwell</a><span style="font-weight: bold;"> (Matchbox 20)</span> - Pretty much covers how I've been feeling the last 5 years or so. Check out the link. Enough said.<br /><br />22. There's something missing here and I'm not really sure what it is. Although, perhaps it's exactly what I'm listening to right now. Here's a shocker: something classical. Because I even stopped writing a few minutes ago to close my eyes and listen to and dance in my head to <span style="font-weight: bold;">Tchaikovsky's </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK3ELt0zPLg">Waltz of the flowers</a> from the Nutcracker (and to be honest my feet and hands were going a bit berserk too). </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It symbolises something that has been a constant in my life; the style may have changed over the years - from ballet as a kid, to disco and then club, and now Salsa, but dancing has always been an important form of expression for me and this piece of music is so uplifting that it's impossible NOT to want to dance to it. Do yourself a favour; take a few minutes of time-out and click the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK3ELt0zPLg">link</a>; check out the audience and you'll know what I mean. And tell me you don't feel uplifted afterwards.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Well I think that about covers it so far.<br />I'll let you know about the sequel in another thirty-something years...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em></em></span>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-53859745560630572042009-05-22T14:11:00.005+01:002009-05-22T15:35:12.130+01:00can I have my brain back please?For the last few years I have been fighting a losing battle against migraines. I find the whole thing terribly frustrating, particularly since up until I started getting them, I didn't believe in them. I thought they were just a word used by people who had a bad headache when they wanted the world to feel sorry for them. So when I started getting these 'headaches' that wouldn't let up for 3 days at a time, accompanied by nausea and extreme sensitivity to light and noise, and leave me feeling like I'd swum the English Channel or something afterwards, I was rather annoyed when I was diagnosed with the word "Migraine". <br />The worst part about these things is that no painkillers help. Some of them manage to dull the pain slightly, but most just make me sleepy. And considering that one of the symptoms is extreme 'grogginess' (for want of a better term), this is Just Not Cool.<br />I have tried a number of things in an attempt to bring them under control. I cut out caffeine, for one thing. This did help, to a degree; it brought the frequency of the attacks down to about once a month. But they have still been getting steadily worse and it is getting to a point where I just want to sit in a corner and cry when I get them, now. I am losing the will to fight.<br /><br />I think my GP finally got the message because he referred me to a Neurologist, whom I went to see a couple of weeks back. <br />It turns out there's hope.<br />He asked me a bunch of questions, made me touch my nose with my fingertip and walk in a straight line and checked my hearing and reflexes. He then sent me for an MRI scan, and put me on medication, which I should apparently take for up to a year, after which, if all goes according to plan, the migraines should disappear. Hallelujah!!! <br />(They couldn't have tried this a few years back...?!!)<br />The MRI is a just-in-case thing, to be 100% sure that there isn't a cabbage growing in my head or something, but he seemed pretty confident they wouldn't find anything. The cool thing about that is that I now have pictures of my brain. The not-so-cool thing about it is that halfway through the scan I discovered I am, in fact, quite claustrophobic. Not the greatest timing in the world, and it wasn't an experience I would be in a hurry to repeat; I soon forgot the giggles I had when I initially went into the machine (eyes closed) and the weird mechanical noises started and the thought crossed my mind that this must be what it feels like to be abducted by aliens. Just a hint: If you ever have an MRI, KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED. Pretend you're in a field of daisies or something. It's much better than the reality which is that you're in a Very Confined Space where Nobody Can Hear You.<br /><br />That aside, this whole post is not actually to give you a guide on how to behave when getting an MRI, nor a complete medical history on Yours Truly. What I actually wanted to share was something of an epiphany.<br /><br />You see, two days after I started on these tablets the Doc gave me, something truly weird happened. It took me a while to figure out what was going on. I just felt <span style="font-style: italic;">strange</span>; but in an entirely good way. My mood lifted quite suddenly and it was as if I was really there, in my skin, instead of slightly disconnected from the world; as if a veil had been lifted. I felt focused - my thoughts, my vision, my feelings and even sensation. The word that popped into my head was "Clarity".<br />It felt bloody wonderful, let me tell you!<br />I find this extremely difficult to explain, but I want to try because it is a really big deal to me. It has been a difficult few years for me; apart from the migraines I also went through quite a bad depression that involved medication and therapy - all of these are things that I never thought would happen to me, but never mind that now. Somewhere in the midst of struggling through all of this I lost my mental sharpness. This is the part that is hard to explain and I fear I may end up sounding somewhat condescending or uppity or ... oh what the hell, this is my blog so if you don't like it, don't read it. Throughout my whole life the one thing I never had to worry about was my intelligence. I'm a very bright girl and I don't think I have ever been confronted with anything that I thought was too difficult for me to do, or to figure out. It was kind of comforting to know that I could always count on my brain. But somewhere in the last few years that changed. I started finding it difficult to concentrate at work, and battled to work through problems. The last course I went on was almost frightening in the way I just wasn't able to keep up. And then the unthinkable happened: I actually failed an exam.<br />Needless to say this hasn't done my self-esteem much good, but that, too, is another topic entirely.<br />When all this went on, I just accepted it as part of getting older; I figured I was now over 35, and they say the mind is the first to go and this was obviously what was happening to me. Best I just learn to accept my new limitations because there's nothing that can be done about it.<br /><br />Except... then the Clarity came. And I was able to do my work and <span style="font-weight: bold;">know</span> when I was done that I hadn't made any mistakes, that I had remembered to check everything, and that it wasn't necessary to go over everything again. I did, anyway, almost unable to believe it, and I was right. There were no mistakes. I was able to hold my focus all the way through the task at hand. I was also able to hold conversations without losing the thread of what I was saying. I was.... Lucid!<br />It even showed when we went out over the weekend and I played a game of pool. When I put my mind to it I was able to willingly focus on what I was doing. I haven't been able to do that in such a long time... and I had thought I wouldn't be able to do that again.<br />And I never said anything to anyone, because I thought they'd think I was just mad.<br />Perhaps I thought I was a little mad.<br /><br />All of which leads me to suspect that these migraine things are worse than I thought; One of the symptoms, as I told the Neurologist, is a sensation of being 'disconnected' from myself and the world. But what I didn't realise, because it's been that way for so long, is that even between the episodes where the headaches attack so violently, I think I have still had some of the other symptoms lingering; this constant mental noise or fog being one of them. (A need for afternoon naps is another - I made it through last weekend without even considering a nap!)<br /><br />Now I'm not a medical expert by any means and perhaps I should spend some more time on Google with this thing. Or perhaps I'll just mention it the next time I see the man. <br />But right now I am just holding out hope that perhaps I'm not crazy... and perhaps I will get my brain back after all.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-75412384505183423042009-05-03T20:29:00.007+01:002009-05-08T21:36:09.550+01:00Holiday, Portuguese style<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8Om29sgkBIc4gis2m_4AD4mAyecjykgncxfE1xttzyzznRqdk0YNLBXqxv2m6WqcxyhKUPkC2pG8TUj3bGUDNdJCL9sXOJVgB_f-7rRGnkOIGJcUJvKFd2QmBKNuSRSU8RzR/s1600-h/DSCF2622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8Om29sgkBIc4gis2m_4AD4mAyecjykgncxfE1xttzyzznRqdk0YNLBXqxv2m6WqcxyhKUPkC2pG8TUj3bGUDNdJCL9sXOJVgB_f-7rRGnkOIGJcUJvKFd2QmBKNuSRSU8RzR/s400/DSCF2622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333535344803702626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm going to give you the abridged version of the Trip Report this time.<br /><br />Portugal was Fantastic!!!<br /><br /><br />Hm, I guess I should say a bit more than that. OK, here goes...<br /><br /><br />The hotel was lovely. If ever you decide you want to nip off to a small, quiet-ish town in the Algarve you should try the Tivoli Almansor in Carvoeiro. The room was spacious, the food brilliant and the staff impeccably helpful. And you can only imagine the view from our room on the 6th floor...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMlZLF6tYHi-ZzGpn_pOoxjZq2cRmvbmVGFcvMUhK9IEyOqHFXaXNUkKD0-U6DYAWnE0xlxCbu5dIF1IyXXHrbbrkUdbvmR72HiuFh1A3mxYeMAZrypUY4GdZLq6dm1aYkLN9/s1600-h/DSCF2678.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMlZLF6tYHi-ZzGpn_pOoxjZq2cRmvbmVGFcvMUhK9IEyOqHFXaXNUkKD0-U6DYAWnE0xlxCbu5dIF1IyXXHrbbrkUdbvmR72HiuFh1A3mxYeMAZrypUY4GdZLq6dm1aYkLN9/s400/DSCF2678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331690112870986786" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-size:85%;" >HOTEL TIVOLI ALMANSOR, CARVOEIRO, PORTUGAL</span><br /></div><br />We took it easy for the first couple of days, then did one or two things in between relaxing. Being a de facto Irishwoman, it would be remiss of me not to mention the weather: It was Great! Plenty of warmth and sunshine, just what we needed. It was tempered only by a chilly breeze on our last couple of days there but it wasn't cold enough to keep us indoors by any means.<br /><br />To help us relax, on our second day there Dave had a full body masssage, while I decided to see what Reiki was all about. I had a migraine so I was desperate enough to try anything to get rid of it. Well I don't know if I would rush back and do it again but I must admit that lying in a room with only candles for light, with classical music playing while someone energises your shakras (is that right?) is a wonderful way to relax. And to be fair, a few hours later the migraine lifted so who knows. Perhaps it wasn't just coincidence.<br /><br />On day 3 Dave decided it was time for us to get off our sun loungers and do something. So we went scuba diving. We were both scuba-virgins and I must admit I was a little nervous. We got a bit of a theory lesson, then squeezed into our wetsuits and plopped into the swimming pool.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUspNzScsjModGvhsR8zaKYZA9gpK5C56ciAGb-NTgvgZeicNmejEK-D2qkqP5Y9OW2s2HQZ8cCE0fJoDcH_GbaecwcC4ZGhiwVujIRyktTcejbIUqjsz3N_zxWvtmsN8DLcL4/s1600-h/DSCF2644.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUspNzScsjModGvhsR8zaKYZA9gpK5C56ciAGb-NTgvgZeicNmejEK-D2qkqP5Y9OW2s2HQZ8cCE0fJoDcH_GbaecwcC4ZGhiwVujIRyktTcejbIUqjsz3N_zxWvtmsN8DLcL4/s400/DSCF2644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333535329290249154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-size:85%;" >SCUBA DIVING 101</span><br /></div><br />It was really convenient to have the scuba-diving centre on the hotel premises where we could practise in the pool before heading down to the private beach and into the sea (once I had gotten my head around breathing while underwater, and moved on from a mild panic attack in the process). Dave, of course, took to it like he'd been doing it his whole life. And when we did venture into the sea, I loved it! There were still a few moments of angst but the instructor was so kind, he actually held my hand while we were underwater, which helped to reassure me.<br />I was truly touched at how kind and patient he was - would that there were more people like that in the world.<br /><br />We did a bit of shopping while we were there, too. The little town of Carvoeiro has some great little clothing shops, but me being the bargain-hunter that I am, I waited until we went on a day-trip to the inland town of Loulé, where we spent a few hours wandering around a Gypsey market. I didn't buy any Gypsies, but I did pick up a beautiful dress, among other things.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicCjPnS4N45ihyphenhyphenBkkdCViOGkd5ftbtU_xAq9vnBG1UwyAxXsEEuCE7hRK4GWsqSSRXcV9YwA8LS0PFzM6zJ472jkBQFauHi69ofsAUuYzkn3fk1Zp7HXtCubC_ouWejzaEON9M/s1600-h/DSCF0791.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicCjPnS4N45ihyphenhyphenBkkdCViOGkd5ftbtU_xAq9vnBG1UwyAxXsEEuCE7hRK4GWsqSSRXcV9YwA8LS0PFzM6zJ472jkBQFauHi69ofsAUuYzkn3fk1Zp7HXtCubC_ouWejzaEON9M/s400/DSCF0791.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333535332212408562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">SHOPPING AT THE GYPSEY MARKET</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We also ate a snack from a caravan there, that smelled and tasted just like Vetkoek<sup>[1]</sup>.<br /><br />On our second-last day the wind was blowing fairly strongly, not great for sunbathing at all. I wanted to walk up to the end of the cliff we could see from our room; it looked really inviting for some reason. So we did this, and ended up spending the whole morning on the cliffs, walking and climbing a bit, stopping to find sheltered spots to sit and stare out to sea and watch the seagulls, of which there were plenty. The way they played on the wind and squawked and cried to each other made me want to come back as a seagull in my next life. It just looks like so much fun!<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX4PAOJgXvp782BkVf0pSE3IH0j8iIpsc0ysAN4oUfn0ZCsTtSoa2vGwwrQR16ytwJsmL_C1z_-baDBRygqk-2XgM4CRtgDO_RYDxUAsPRCC1PL1VO7uZ1JTnkrq3SnEejR2g/s1600-h/DSCF2704.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX4PAOJgXvp782BkVf0pSE3IH0j8iIpsc0ysAN4oUfn0ZCsTtSoa2vGwwrQR16ytwJsmL_C1z_-baDBRygqk-2XgM4CRtgDO_RYDxUAsPRCC1PL1VO7uZ1JTnkrq3SnEejR2g/s400/DSCF2704.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333535342632806402" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-size:85%;" >LOTS OF CLIFFS TO WALK</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And that was the sum total of our activity while we were there. Apart, of course, from our evening meals. I love going to a different restaurant every night, and the food didn't disappoint at all. There wasn't much other night life to speak of. We tried to have a big night on the Saturday night after our dinner, but the few bars and pubs that were open were pretty much empty, save a small number of golfers. I can't imagine why one would go to such a lovely part of the world and play Golf all day, and spend all night with your Golfing buddies. But then I'm not a man. Apparently beauty and romance are not high on their list of priorities.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZ0g4G1KLwtkC004fB2lS7s6tD9dlUEOEeZsA_SmWSR4DM2jCHjVRCBTkZFB6HLkFMuBhJTCc1L0Ve9bmHBPSbVpdsIeTY9aenn297-gVWl8NDtIjsH1iPQam_SLizGhslq9m/s1600-h/DSCF2754-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZ0g4G1KLwtkC004fB2lS7s6tD9dlUEOEeZsA_SmWSR4DM2jCHjVRCBTkZFB6HLkFMuBhJTCc1L0Ve9bmHBPSbVpdsIeTY9aenn297-gVWl8NDtIjsH1iPQam_SLizGhslq9m/s400/DSCF2754-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333535347470332386" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-size:85%;" >FROM THE BEACH IN CARVOEIRO TOWN</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So that, in a nutshell, was our holiday in the Algarve. It was the sort of place that I could happily have not come home from. Sunshine, friendly people, slow pace of life, great food and beautiful scenery - what more could a girl ask for?!<br /><br />If you're interested in seeing more of my photos from the holiday, check out my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/terriweb/">Flickr photostream</a>.<br /></div><br />***<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><sup>[1]</sup> <span style="font-style: italic;">Vetkoek: A traditional South African food, basically a really light dough mixture that is deep-fried the way Donuts are. Yum. Yum. Yum!</span></div></div></div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-58043992131082725352009-04-20T17:11:00.002+01:002009-04-20T17:34:40.960+01:00some time can be such a dragThis has to be the longest afternoon in History. The sun is shining brightly outside with only a faint breeze to stir the air; the window next to my desk is open 'cos the aircon went on the blink earlier so I can hear the sounds of summer outside. Have you ever noticed how Summer days <i>sound</i> different? It's almost like you can hear the sunshine.<br /><br />(Don't get the wrong idea here; when I say Summer I only mean it's not grey, cold and wet outside. This is still Ireland, after all. For us 14° Celcius is genuinely pleasant after our long, dreary Winter, though I realise this is hardly rush-out-and-get-a-tan weather.)<br /> <br />So here I sit inside at my desk with nothing to do (it's been really quiet here just lately, I'm pretty sure it won't last, though) and all I wanna do is leave now, get out there in the sunshine and... well just be anywhere except where I am. <br /><i>Tick-tock Tick-tock</i><br />I'm sure my impatience to get started on my holiday is not helping matters. <br /><i>Tick-tock Tick-tock</i><br />Did I mention I'm on holiday for a week starting tomorrow?<br /><i>Tick-tock Tick-tock</i><br />Ugh, if the minutes were going any slower I'd be getting younger...!<br /><i>Tick-tock Tick-tock</i><br />Not that I'd complain about that, though. Maybe I'd get my old butt back then. I'm not so very fond of the new one, I gotta tellya.<br /><i>Tick-tock Tick-tock</i><br />45 Minutes to go.<br />I doubt I can drag this post out that long though. I just don't have that much to say.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-23534815355263926192009-04-08T17:36:00.001+01:002009-04-08T17:38:18.872+01:00homesick?I dreamt about home last night. Home as in my home town in South Africa. Only, it wasn't really my home town - it looked completely different - but I knew I was home because it <i>felt</i> like home and I knew where everything was. Plus, I knew it wasn't Ireland because the sun was shining and it was warm.<br />I've dreamt of that place before, the same as it was in my dream. It must be the way my brain has put images and scenes from home together in my head. There is a long promenade running along the beachfront, lined with seafood restaurants, bars and cafés. Further out there is a big cliff overlooking the sea, where I like to park the car and take photographs of the sunset; from there I can look down and see a large cultivated park where people walked their dogs and take their children to play. Further inland dense green bush hides camping grounds and game farms; places people go for long weekends, reached by red-gravel roads.<br />In my dream I didn't want to leave but I had to; I guess you don't have to be Freud to figure this one out..!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-58094202624623008442009-03-25T17:41:00.002+00:002009-03-25T17:54:01.590+00:00Coincidence? Or shared consciousness?I overheard a conversation between some of my colleagues this morning, in which they were discussing George Clooney. It was nothing new: the same tired argument - the men were saying he is gay, the women were arguing. In my personal opinion the only reason men say this is that they are all horribly jealous of M. Clooney - and why wouldn't they be?!<br />But that is not the point here.<br /><br />The point is the weirdness, and that is that this conversation pinged something in my head and I suddenly remembered that I dreamt about the man himself last night. Yep, George Clooney, large as life, was in my dreams. It wasn't one of <i>those</i> dreams either (unfortunately); it was far more realistic. I was in jeans and a T-shirt, he was in a group of people obviously pandering to his every need (secretaries, publicists and the like) but for some reason we started a conversation and he ignored all of them for a few minutes. It was then that I told him I'd always known we would meet each other, which he found very amusing. We got along really well, and then he had to go, which was a little sad but sure, I have a husband you know and I have no desire to be part of the whole Hollywood scene. Far too many fake people there for my liking!<br /><br />Yeah, kind of boring, I know.<br />Makes you wish it WAS one of <i>those</i> dreams, doesn't it.<br /><br />The thing is, though, it's not as if dear George is a regular topic of conversation in our office. Nor do I dream of him every night (more's the pity...!) So what's up with the timing?<br />It's like when you think of someone, out of the blue, who hasn't entered your mind in ages and then the next day you bump into them on the street. That happened to me a LOT, with one particular person, actually - the ex-boyfriend of one of my sisters. If it had happened once, OK I can put it down to coincidence. Twice, maybe. But we're talking about maybe up to 10 times, spanning a period of something silly like a decade.<br />(And then one day we moved into a new house only to discover a few months later that this guy was one of our neighbours!)<br /><br />There comes a point where I have to start wondering: Is there such a thing as coincidence? Or is there something going on in our subconscious that creates these things. Some might even play the 'psychic' card. <br /><br />I figured I would put my own theory in here, but when I tried I realised I don't have one. At least not one that is a fully formed idea.<br /><br />So what do you think? Psychic? Shared consciousness? Or just plain coincidence..?Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-36825175045703457172009-03-18T13:41:00.000+00:002009-03-18T13:42:27.131+00:00Top o' da mornin' to ye..!Ireland is a mass hangover today courtesy of that ancient serpent exterminator, Saint Patrick.<br />It's quite funny to look around the office; pretty much everyone has an ever-so-slightly gray pallor and the drone of voices is a little huskier than normal. It's a funny aul' place, this. Every year on March 17th traffic across the country grinds to a halt around midday as St Patrick's Day parades take to the streets not only in Dublin but in pretty much most towns. Even the little town I live in had a parade; apparently about 1000 people turned out to watch which is actually pretty good (you haven't seen the size of the village I live in!)<br /><br />In my 8 1/2 years in Ireland I have only bothered watching the parade in Dublin twice. The first time it was bitterly cold and lashing rain outside, but being our first year in the country we kind of <i>had</i> to go, really. The second time we went because it <i>wasn't</i> lashing rain and we wanted to see if the parade was any better. It wasn't. This seems something of a tradition here: Mobs of people watching a mediocre parade that has been advertised as the best thing since they discovered the Bog Man. <br />Only, you don't get to see anything except the back of the head in front of you and to do this you have to be trained in the Art of Fighting for your Space in a Crowd, else you get elbowed and pushed and shoved until you pop out of the back of the crowd like a champagne cork. So most people forego going into Dublin for the parade - the onlookers on the streets are mostly tourists. The locals are all in the pub, eating and drinking waaaay too much and perhaps watching the Parade as it is broadcast on the small out-of-focus TV mounted in a dark corner above the bar. <br /><br />This was the tradition we followed yesterday, Hubby and I (after going for a breakfast run on our bikes in the morning because it was one of those rare St Patrick's Days when the sun was shining on the Emerald Isle). For the rest of the afternoon pub grub and too much beer was the order of the day, in an old country pub filled with locals from the area thirsty for a pint after the parade. <br /><br />'Twas a grand day indeed :-)Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-88636223259942019342009-02-28T19:35:00.002+00:002009-02-28T19:38:16.804+00:00The cavemanperson in me is alive and wellA good friend of mine is due to give birth within the next few weeks and I have become aware of a very strong need to be with her around about the time the baby comes. It's not the first time I have felt this way since moving away - it happened when my niece was born, in Cape Town, as well as when two of my other friends had their babies, also in South Africa, while I was over here in Ireland.<br />And this one is even further away, in New Zealand.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I pretty much always miss my friends. I think we make the strongest friendships in our younger years and these are the people I'm talking about; the ones with whom we have grown from girls into women. We have seen each other through falling in love and heartbreak, through marriages, births, divorces and the deaths of loved ones.<br /><br />It is in these milestone times that women draw strength and support from each other as much as sharing happiness. The term "I'm happy for you" isn't just a pleasantry, we feel genuine joy when a friend finds true happiness.<br /><br />Childbirth, however, is a time when I feel a much stronger pull than simply missing my friend. It is an instinct, almost primal, to gather around her, make tea, boil water (for the tea, perhaps?)... whatever, just make sure mum and baby are nurtured.<br />(And husbands, too, I suppose, although they should be well able to feed themselves if they have reached a point where they feel they are able to become fathers!)<br />But, no offense, this is about a woman and her new offspring.<br /><br />Perhaps it stems from centuries ago, when communities lived in closer quarters, when men went out hunting for ages at a time and women were left to take care of... pretty much everything else, really. In fact I have a very clear picture in my mind of me, with my closest friends, my mother and my sisters, all hovering around a woman with her newborn child, in our cave wearing clothes made from animal skins, cooking meals over an open fire. It seems to fit in with how I am feeling now.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I will have to make do with emails and phone calls and digital photographs and SMS messages again. It's a poor substitute, but then again, it's better than nothing, and I know that my friend knows I am with her in spirit.<br /><br />Say, I am kind of liking that picture of being a cave-dweller; civilization is sooo overrated sometimes!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-72410331505317863192009-02-17T09:23:00.001+00:002009-02-17T09:25:40.285+00:00When is it time to shoot the horse?I am not really asking advice on horse murder here, it was a metaphor. What I really want to know is how does one know when the time has come to delete one's blog. <br />Is it when one only gets round to posting something new once a month... at the most?<br />Is it when the comments on one's infrequent posts become even less frequent than the posts themselves?<br />Or is it when one no longer has the thought, "I'm gonna blog about this!" half a dozen times a day; in fact one battles to find <i>anything</i> at all that seems blog-worthy in one's life.<br />Ponderous questions, indeed.<br /><br />But then what if one doesn't want to delete one's blog and lose all the hours of work that have gone into it in the sum of all those posts. One can't help but think of the time spent writing, rewriting and agonising over the wording, not to mention finding and editing pictures and photographs. A blog is a creative thing, something born of one's own inventiveness. Hitting the "Delete Blog" button is quite a big deal, when the blog in question has been a work-in-progress for around 5 years.<br /><br />Perhaps I'll ponder the question a bit more. After all, no-one ever accused me of making decisions quickly.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-45839685723424300432009-01-21T09:37:00.001+00:002009-01-21T09:39:30.655+00:00The funny side of politicsOur intranet page scrolls the latest news headlines in the sidebar.<br />Two of today's headlines (in this order) were...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>"OBAMA BEGINS FIRST DAY AS US PRESIDENT"</b><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"KENNEDY RECOVERING AFTER SEIZURE"</span><br /></span></div><br />Am I the only one who finds this incredibly funny?<br /><br /><br />On the same topic, actually, though on a slightly less humorous note, I overheard a conversation between two colleagues this morning that sum it all up perfectly:<br /><br /><b> Pleb 1 <i>(voice dripping with sarcasm)</i>:</b> "So did anyone watch the 'coronation' on TV yesterday?"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><b>Pleb 2:</b> "Ah c'mon, dude, give Obama a bit of a break, willya? Even I, the hardened cynic, want to believe in this guy. The world needs a bit of hope, man."<br /><br />'Nuff said, I reckon.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-42712005970519460412009-01-06T21:07:00.007+00:002009-01-06T22:17:19.361+00:00Randomness: the good, the bad and the odd<span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Is the Universe smiling on me?</u></span><br />Everyone told me, when I got to my home town in December, that I must've brought good weather with me. It was gorgeous the whole week, and only on the day I left did the wind pick up and was blowing at around 110 km/h when we took off. When I got back to Dublin I was told how shockingly cold it had been while I was away, but the day I arrived the sun was shining and we had a really mild Christmas. I think the Weather Gods are finally on my side...<br />Even today when I really needed the roads to be dry, I couldn't have asked for better (not at this time of year, anyway). My prayers were answered and I now have my full bike driving license.<br />(Hooray for me!!!)<br />I'll try keep the blizzards at bay a bit longer, 'kay?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Oops, I did it again...</u></span><br />Speaking of driving tests; I booked last May to take the test, thinking it would be a clever idea to do the thing sometime over the Summer months. Who knew there would be a 6-month waiting list?! (The website said 10 weeks; I think I can be forgiven for my naivety)<br />The day before I went to SA, I had a lesson with a driving instructor - not to learn how to ride the bike, but to learn about the things the testers would want to see on the day. Like spending more time looking in mirrors and over my shoulders than in front of me, and keeping my right foot up off the ground, on the rear brake pedal, when at a stop (and praying at the same time there aren't any strong crosswinds about, no doubt). And that they would ask me to do a U-turn. What I learnt that day was that although I have no problem turning sharply to the left, the U-turn in question would be to the right, and that I wasn't so very strong at...<br />So after Christmas I took the cover off the bike to go practise my U-turns, only to find I'd ridden over a nail and the tyre was flat. Ever tried getting a new bike tyre over the Christmas season? It's somewhat like trying to find snowballs on the beach in South Africa at that time of year.<br />Nonetheless, we finally got a new tyre fitted on Saturday morning, leaving me the weekend to practise my U-turns. I did so in the parking lot at the local train station. That was when I dropped the bike for the first time since I started riding about 2 years ago. I almost dislocated my body from itself trying to lift the poor machine off its side, before finally admitting my limitations and calling Hubby to help.<br />The bike was OK (it had been going really slowly when it fell) and I continued my practising until my Prince Charming told me I was doing fine and would have no problem in the test.<br />That was Today's test, on the way to which I thought I would quickly practise just one more U-turn. And I promptly overbalanced again, this time with the bike ending up in the middle of a busy road with no Hubby around for miles.<br />But within seconds a kind young man stopped and helped me pick it up, and then I had to go directly to the Testing Centre. Um, no nerves at all, really.<br />The good news is that the U-turn went fine in the actual test; the Universe must've been smiling on me again :-)<br />And the bike is still fine.<br />And don't panic; it's my 'old' bike I was on, not the new one. Perhaps it was acting up because it knows it's been replaced by the Baby Bird. I haven't shown you a side view of it yet, have I? It was hard to get a good angle while it was still in my kitchen!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_y3tpHpVddPLy5_judpiai5LS63iFTgnzOTVMWaoC2TtTeWbRb3Ndc71dm_3eHGaPG1mHpp6EE4VuU1iX7g-i5GOe84MOl9bNTRhyO-CMOCcxnve3L2lzbA4IY7aRrv6GiVOm/s1600-h/DSCF0636.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_y3tpHpVddPLy5_judpiai5LS63iFTgnzOTVMWaoC2TtTeWbRb3Ndc71dm_3eHGaPG1mHpp6EE4VuU1iX7g-i5GOe84MOl9bNTRhyO-CMOCcxnve3L2lzbA4IY7aRrv6GiVOm/s320/DSCF0636.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288297251808055090" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Best of the Worst</u></span><br />The worst part about flying home to SA is, well, flying home to SA. There were no direct flights this time, so I went via Paris on the way there, and via Amsterdam on the way back. On the long leg going there I managed to get an aisle seat, which was OK because at least I didn't have to clamber over people to get to the bog.<br />Coming back there were no aisle seats available, and no window seats. I feared the worst but was pleasantly surprised to see a young, slim woman on either side of me. It could've been worse... and it very nearly was when the young lady on the aisle seat, to my right, was switched with a woman so large she couldn't fit in her own seat in the front row because the armrest was fixed. As she spilled over onto my seat I decided that this was one occasion I was prepared to be That Passenger; you know, the one who bitches & moans until she gets moved. As it turned out, all that was required was a mild - and not even remotely rude - objection. Next thing I knew I was across the aisle, not only in an aisle seat but in the front row, with all the leg room I could have wanted, and more! My companion was a young Ukranian girl, a delightful slip of a thing with whom I became friends for a few hours as we flew 10,000km around the globe and then wandered the maze of Schipol airport looking for the smoking area.<br />(There is one, by the way, but it's so small and horrible I wouldn't recommend it. Just so you know.)<br />I even managed to get some sleep on the 'plane and had enough energy and wakefulness in my body to squeeze in a spot of airport shopping before boarding the flight back to Dublin.<br />(I think the Marijuana-patterned boxer shorts I bought for Hubby may have seemed a tad less generous than the motorcycle parked in the kitchen, for me, from him, but how was I to know?!!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>And on a final, totally unconnected note...</u></span><br />There's a book called "PS I Love You", written by Cecelia Ahern. When it was released it went straight onto the Bestsellers list. I specifically didn't buy it because the author is the daughter of the former Taoiseach (Irish Prime Minister). I like books to earn their spot on their own worth, not because the author's daddy is Top Dog in the country. I figured I'd wait until I found someone else who had a copy, and borrow it, instead, to see if it was worth all the hype.<br />Well I have yet to read the book but on Sunday night I watched the movie on TV.<br />Yes, this is a movie review of sorts.<br />And what I have to say is that it was a really, really good movie. The story was heart-rending, the performances real (although one of the Irish accents sounded a bit iffy to me). But most of all, do NOT attempt to watch this movie without a box of Kleenex handy. I bawled my eyes out on a number of occasions (and it was quite tricky putting them back in, I'll tellya!)(mwahahahaha!).<br />Anyway, as far as I'm concerned any movie that moves me from tears to laughter and back again a few times in the space of 90 minutes (I'm guessing) is a good movie, because isn't that what it's all about? Hooking in the audience and having them feel what the characters feel?<br />But I did have a very strong urge to watch some sitcoms afterwards.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>OK that wasn't the final note, this is:</u></span><br />Because that last bit just didn't feel like an ending, y'know?<br />So here's a better one for you:<br /><br />May you all have enough random goodness and oddness in your lives to keep you happy and interested in 2009.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!</span><br /></div>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-64112723306948701432008-12-26T10:52:00.005+00:002008-12-26T11:05:36.041+00:00how to increase the value of your shares with your loved oneIt's not every day a girl comes home to find a Christmas present like this waiting for her in the kitchen:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm36ULwiAXDN-F0ah9mns-BivkWZeOfrR-WDWJKbBh7zdTxxC8-nSzxwqEzwquL349PcK1JLeLvvosN1l_A676gJrItKTNR256wpxAZFI6MkMrO-nyR3iilm8aXJWeoyWrEL4z/s1600-h/DSCF2570.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm36ULwiAXDN-F0ah9mns-BivkWZeOfrR-WDWJKbBh7zdTxxC8-nSzxwqEzwquL349PcK1JLeLvvosN1l_A676gJrItKTNR256wpxAZFI6MkMrO-nyR3iilm8aXJWeoyWrEL4z/s320/DSCF2570.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284050668362642162" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After a 20-hour trip getting home to Dublin from SA I was, to say the least, quite surprised to find Santa had delivered early.<br /><br />Years ago, long before I ever thought I would learn to ride, I sat on one of these - a CBR600 belonging a friend of ours. I clearly remember saying that if I ever learned to ride I would want one like this. A few weeks ago our neighbour turned up with one, and I took it for a ride and fell in love with it.<br />It turns out that while I was away, Hubby was busy wheeling & dealing to buy this bike from our neighbour and between them they managed to get it into my kitchen where Hubby cleaned it till it shone, then got a big red bow to stick on the windshield and a note that says:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4_w5p9zAF3ECLNaIII__gU8rGvs5Uq3b1yApQ_iTIE-xCRGf553ljHFXUJxTj9kqBhm1qpUSNqYTfQKJ_sIdjvqSqxhKwBxaqc72rrktQp4vurd9j_NcdF3SCyqKHwiSoNtx/s1600-h/DSCF2569-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4_w5p9zAF3ECLNaIII__gU8rGvs5Uq3b1yApQ_iTIE-xCRGf553ljHFXUJxTj9kqBhm1qpUSNqYTfQKJ_sIdjvqSqxhKwBxaqc72rrktQp4vurd9j_NcdF3SCyqKHwiSoNtx/s400/DSCF2569-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284052613858929122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">"MERRY XMAS TERRI! XXX"</span><br /></span></div><br />I'm a Very Spoilt Lady!!!!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-7473193534118370692008-12-21T16:42:00.008+00:002008-12-21T17:13:28.725+00:00the weird and the wonderful<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCPiQBWreaExR1b4L2uFoBhedmY4zNZ91Z7A7OyItdoGE9oiPPnixlKzbRI5bR3m8S5w3tp4TpW7B7D0GX3EGg6E4D6Xq6Mgtt9aIeO8W4jhTSLdH0j8OlB2wf7URwwBJ0YIw/s1600-h/DSCF2537.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282288188615294706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCPiQBWreaExR1b4L2uFoBhedmY4zNZ91Z7A7OyItdoGE9oiPPnixlKzbRI5bR3m8S5w3tp4TpW7B7D0GX3EGg6E4D6Xq6Mgtt9aIeO8W4jhTSLdH0j8OlB2wf7URwwBJ0YIw/s400/DSCF2537.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;color:#ccffff;">PORT ELIZABETH - MY HOME TOWN</span></div><p><br />My week is almost up; tomorrow I head back home to Ireland. Strangely, it feels like I've been here much longer than I actually have, probably because I've done quite a lot this week - nothing constructive, mind you, just being a little social butterfly :-)<br /><br />I've had a wonderful time. </p><p>I went shopping on Friday with my 2 best friends. They hadn't really spent time together before 'cos of not living in the same city and all so it was quite strange for me to have both of them with me for the afternoon. Strange, but in a very good way; I felt quite privileged.<br /><br />Yesterday morning I went to the beach and had a swim in the sea (well, not so much 'swim' as get wet up to the hips then sploosh water on myself 'cos I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to waves!)... by 10:30 am I was hiding under a giant sarong though; how is it that I used to be able to spend a whole day in the sun as a kid but now I feel like I'm being BBQ'd after 45 minutes?!<br /><br />Last night I got some of my old gang of friends together at a pub. It was just like old times - except now the conversation was more about kids & families than bikes & partying, and I was home just after 11pm, ready to hit the sack. (Last of the wild party-people - Not!!!)<br /><br />I miss my Hubby an awful lot though and I'm kind of ready to go back to the cold now so I can be with him. Only 2 more sleeps to go... and one of those will be on an aeroplane<br /><br />When will someone invent a magic transporter that can move us from one side of the planet to the other without the discomfort of sitting in cattle-class in a giant metal tube, bashing our knees on the seat back in front of us and trying to ignore the smelly stranger next to us who is snoring in our ear? And if anyone mentions Premium Economy, Business Class or First Class I'm going to smack them on the head because paying 3 times the price for a ticket is NOT an option - and I would still have to sit on me bum for 10 hours at a stretch and end up with feet & ankles that won't fit into my shoes for 3 days afterwards!<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />And now I've forgotten where I was heading.<br /><br />So I'll leave you with a second picture instead.<br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxUl2mAk48KiBnwHclx4J8BG95Jjd5C5oA4LFoQgjPcy_9zHREmzy7u6Jy4a9i7Rkpo7s9y6RvQ8YqjbCiYtIC5PaceO_epxgswj_vFJWCvXapvNRVFLhUsSUpt-5sYy404Cs/s1600-h/DSCF2542.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282291623287235922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxUl2mAk48KiBnwHclx4J8BG95Jjd5C5oA4LFoQgjPcy_9zHREmzy7u6Jy4a9i7Rkpo7s9y6RvQ8YqjbCiYtIC5PaceO_epxgswj_vFJWCvXapvNRVFLhUsSUpt-5sYy404Cs/s400/DSCF2542.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;color:#ccffff;">SHARK ROCK PIER</span></p>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-52646531958775428682008-12-17T18:00:00.000+00:002008-12-17T18:00:01.183+00:00from one extreme to the otherIt's mildly disturbing to board an aeroplane in a climate of an icy 0 degrees Celsius, and emerge several hours later on the other side of the planet where it's 27 degrees warmer.<br /><br />Very mildly disturbing.<br /><br />Mostly, though, it's fan-bloody-tastic!!!<br /><br /><br />That's right, Chickens, I packed in the Irish winter and am typing this from a brilliantly sunny and warm Port Elizabeth in South Africa.<br /><br />I left poor Hubby behind this time. I hear our neighbours are taking good care of him, making sure he eats a meal occasionally and such like. It's weird being here without him - sort of like I have a limb missing. But by this time next week I'll be back in the Big Freeze that is Dublin, and safe in the arms of my other half again, because this is a short visit... no long leisurely holidays at my disposal. I wanted to be back in time to spend Christmas with Hubby and my sister-in-law in Ireland.<br /><br />So for one week only I finally get to wear my strappy dresses & open sandals (the ones that have been gathering dust in my wardrobe for the past 2 years because Summer appears to have forgotten Ireland completely).<br /><br />I went shopping with my mom yesterday and lunched with my friend the day before. Today I lunched again, with my other friend, in the neighbourhood I grew up in, under an awning to protect my lily-white Northern hemisphere skin from the hungry African sun.<br />I'm taking it easy and catching up with my Girls, refuelling my soul with the sights and sounds of the place I come from.<br /><br />In fact this trip is kind of like a pit stop... I guess you could call it a service for my psyche :-)Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-80937114223900172392008-12-02T20:35:00.006+00:002008-12-02T20:55:55.764+00:00A touch of frostLet's talk about the weather for a change.<br /><br />That's a joke - anyone who has spent any amount of time in Ireland will know this; talking about the weather is something of a national pastime here. Well, perhaps not so much <span style="font-style: italic;">talking</span> as <span style="font-style: italic;">moaning</span> about it. It's either too cold, too wet, or occasionally (once every 7 years or so) too hot.<br />Although it should be noted that I, personally, have never complained about this place being too hot.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><br />But it's winter now, and last Saturday Hubby and I went out around midday to do some shopping. 30 Metres down the road I made him turn back so I could get my camera. You just don't see frost and fog like this in South Africa.<br /><br />So these are for you folks who are complaining about the heat back home...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1Or5uSG3Bfle4W2h-g7s2cJdIOWsSgx9fYfk2NS0jwO0eHEYJIxGD-3vEkIHRbgqK_ry3ZI2Xcek1ujH78STiJgpjcpGnNij6Dc2suYf7hSmkdpxlwaYAbQe1kTosAVdZ1gX/s1600-h/DSCF2481.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1Or5uSG3Bfle4W2h-g7s2cJdIOWsSgx9fYfk2NS0jwO0eHEYJIxGD-3vEkIHRbgqK_ry3ZI2Xcek1ujH78STiJgpjcpGnNij6Dc2suYf7hSmkdpxlwaYAbQe1kTosAVdZ1gX/s200/DSCF2481.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275295885356103874" border="0" /></a>The first clue: Frozen flowers outside my front door<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAg5r4eGgbNCgnMMcA7SY7ISUC7Fpzt7GMrfwuSAw4_I3fXc6aaj5z3Y9CKARXSDBRdFkb8nSjbNEEbTVMheeb61k8cp3TBkffGLuiXluu58F0b7jIDahKWF0GantTEFedjU4f/s1600-h/DSCF2500.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAg5r4eGgbNCgnMMcA7SY7ISUC7Fpzt7GMrfwuSAw4_I3fXc6aaj5z3Y9CKARXSDBRdFkb8nSjbNEEbTVMheeb61k8cp3TBkffGLuiXluu58F0b7jIDahKWF0GantTEFedjU4f/s320/DSCF2500.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275296826159630626" border="0" /></a>The not-so-green grass of home<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqQdHxYkXf22Ho2_Nxe9oOFIQQJIYnUvSrKNPmuOgZ_y2kTzkgoAouTEYzW5f-MwApZX_p4AHcoI57CRtUHyiIizmWXElrc0Yq3OOoeTz2xk0EMSXczuMewGdIAdjCIEBuTcs/s1600-h/DSCF2492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqQdHxYkXf22Ho2_Nxe9oOFIQQJIYnUvSrKNPmuOgZ_y2kTzkgoAouTEYzW5f-MwApZX_p4AHcoI57CRtUHyiIizmWXElrc0Yq3OOoeTz2xk0EMSXczuMewGdIAdjCIEBuTcs/s320/DSCF2492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275296825823318786" border="0" /></a>Some of you may recognize Malahide Castle<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKCJ74UfFfrd423gterrzWV47GdDGHBl6OM5JPfn3Bl42yjRanGib0fUaacvI2JOSzffWjPuis1Jir8EU2Q1DLC0bamTcGnaWN96jw-vbUs4khK1oTlm3TL-OnTOj7dfbnpeQ/s1600-h/DSCF2491.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKCJ74UfFfrd423gterrzWV47GdDGHBl6OM5JPfn3Bl42yjRanGib0fUaacvI2JOSzffWjPuis1Jir8EU2Q1DLC0bamTcGnaWN96jw-vbUs4khK1oTlm3TL-OnTOj7dfbnpeQ/s320/DSCF2491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275296819897294930" border="0" /></a>Ducks getting themselves in a row... I'm guessing they've figured out the time has come to head South!<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo9zNbiQWGKZwo_ORSDTJGPmqm8gELF_-EgOn46Ghg9F8r-qlov9mRO0cI2VONOxT_hDNs7LB77aKfa8-2Vk7q5fwv-blwE0qHhfNdE_ItlJFplmdpJwfXpwUfy16reRz9p6Z/s1600-h/DSCF2484.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixo9zNbiQWGKZwo_ORSDTJGPmqm8gELF_-EgOn46Ghg9F8r-qlov9mRO0cI2VONOxT_hDNs7LB77aKfa8-2Vk7q5fwv-blwE0qHhfNdE_ItlJFplmdpJwfXpwUfy16reRz9p6Z/s320/DSCF2484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275296815602949330" border="0" /></a>A cold and lonely crow<br /></div><br /><br />I didn't get any photos of the fog around our place; there wouldn't have been much to see in a photo except white noise, after all. But here is the midday sun:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsrV00JTvnb7tvN7uYPFjbthY_vX-JUyZus6ZSE0aDP3QRrogrNNfBqZOtXyOvCBD60YoXejGXJAkWlmEmb2kab7Obj0uvRmRz8ob30XZoNE9irX-Ojc3mJ-Z75J7P0x0Aqv2/s1600-h/DSCF2483.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsrV00JTvnb7tvN7uYPFjbthY_vX-JUyZus6ZSE0aDP3QRrogrNNfBqZOtXyOvCBD60YoXejGXJAkWlmEmb2kab7Obj0uvRmRz8ob30XZoNE9irX-Ojc3mJ-Z75J7P0x0Aqv2/s320/DSCF2483.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275298096054661730" border="0" /></a><br />So, which hemisphere would you rather be in right now...?Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-68345291061749636242008-11-26T18:58:00.002+00:002008-11-26T19:10:44.991+00:00only the nose knowsIt's late and I have almost the entire wing of our office to myself. Daylight is but a distant memory and I only have the hum of the air conditioning for comfort. I am waiting patiently (?!) for something to finish running on my PC so I can go home. <br />Despite the fact that it is very much Winter here now, the windows are open and an icy breeze is whispering in from the blackness outside. I have my long woollen coat wrapped around from my waist to my feet, and a pashmina (<span style="font-style: italic;">or shawl, for those of you men who still don't know what a Pashmina is</span>) blanketing my upper body to fend off the chill.<br /><br />Yes, it's uncomfortable, but will I close the windows?<br />Not a chance!<br /><br />You see, there appears to be a plumbing problem nearby and the maintenance guy has been 'fixing' it for 2 days now. The floor is ripped up and the area is cordonned off like a crime scene. A grimy lake lies beneath the open floorboards and every time the dude does one of those mysterious things that plumber-type people do, it seems to release a cloud of gases that stink in a very similar manner to the way sulphur stinks.<br />And all of this is about 6 feet away from my desk.<br />Delightful.<br /><br />... and all of a sudden in a freakish turn of events, the thing I was waiting for has finished running on my PC...<br />I'm outta here....!!!!!!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-5000835639515370872008-11-17T13:20:00.002+00:002008-11-17T20:53:50.552+00:00ask a stupid question...I went for a short walk in my lunch hour today, and was stopped in the street by a couple of people from a local radio station. They were asking people if they thought it was possible for women to balance a career and family.<br />Oh the pressure! I was like a deer caught in headlights. Say something intelligent, woman!!!<br />I'm sure they picked me because I looked like a professional woman, (<span style="font-style: italic;">not THAT sort of profession!</span>) attired as I was in my black wool coat and matching hat - the only other people on the street were men and a shabby-looking bag-lady so I guess I was the obvious choice given the question. I managed to come up with something that sounded reasonably intelligent, and then the guy stuck a microphone under my nose and asked if I would mind repeating what I had just said.<br />How the hell should I remember what I had just said???! The trouble is I don't really have an opinion on the subject so it was really hard to try and recreate the bullshit I had just finished burbling. Urgh, I felt like I was brain-dead.<br /><br />In hindsight, what I should have said was this:<br />Of course it's possible - millions of women the world over do it every day. We kind of have to, if we want to have a house, and food on the table. But it's not ideal, at least for most. I think it's a case of priorities. Some women are committed to serious careers - and in that case I would guess that their family life would suffer, at some point, especially if they work long hours on a regular basis. Sure you can hire a nanny or whatever but you would end up spending time at work that otherwise would be spent with your family.<br />On the other side there are women who work only because they have to, and all their energy is focussed on their family. Those women are unlikely to be high-powered corporate types because given the choice they would sacrifice work to be with their family instead.<br /><br />But anyway, I think it's a tired and irrelevant question.<br />Perhaps a better one would have been something along the lines of, "How difficult is it for a woman to have both a career and a family, and still maintain her sanity and identity?"<br />I'm sure they'd end up with much more interesting answers.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-9485821051027601382008-11-01T15:40:00.003+00:002008-11-01T15:52:51.828+00:00beware the dreaded lurgy!I am surrounded. They're all out to get me, I swear.<br /><br />I avoided it at work, but then it started with my stepson, spread to my husband, and now my stepdaughter has succumbed too.<br />They're sniffling, sneezing, coughing and making those yucky noises particular to those afflicted with colds & flu. <br />Nice.<br /><br />And they've taken over the house, let me tell you. Right now 2 of them are in the lounge, all nice & cozy in front of a crackling fire, snuggled up in soft blankets, one on each couch. I was tempted to join them but it feels like I'm under attack by a viral army when I'm in there.<br />I would retreat to my bedroom but Hubby has been sleeping off the sickness there for most of the day and I just know there are some horrible little germs hanging around in there, waiting to pounce on me as soon as I settle on the bed.<br /><br />So I am banished to the kitchen / diningroom, which was fine by me this morning when the sun was in the Eastern sky and filling this side of the house with glorious warmth. Now, though, it has moved over and the November cold is creeping back out of it's hiding places, shimmering up through the tiled floors and gradually reclaiming me, feet first.<br />Oh well, at least I have a radio in here, right? <br />(Yeah, I know, kudos to me for looking on the bright side.)<br /><br />So here I sit and if anyone is interested in hearing my thoughts today, that's easy:<br /><br /><i>I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy...</i><br /><br />After all, it's never too late to try this Mantra thing, is it?!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-35637252800566174722008-10-24T20:25:00.000+01:002008-10-24T20:26:00.244+01:00rejuvination for girls 101I have started writing this post 3 times now. Each incarnation has been discarded; too obscure, too flippant, too serious, too boring... whatever happened to writing from the heart, the words falling out of my head onto the page without check?<br />Oh never mind; it's complicated.<br /><br />Instead, let me tell you about last weekend. <br />Last Friday evening I flew to London to spend a couple of days with my sister. We sat up until after 4am talking - in itself, is not terribly surprising. What was a little unusual was the puny quantity of alcohol we consumed. In all that time we only got through 1 bottle of sparkling wine. <br />(We won't get into how many cups of coffee / glasses of water/OJ we went through.)<br />Will men ever understand women's ability to stay up all night talking..?<br /><br />After brunch on Saturday we took the Tube to Covent Garden, and there we had lunch with an old friend of mine. Dee and I were best friends in high school and I hadn't seen her for something like 9 years - not since our 10-year high school reunion. <br />(We will ignore for now that next year will be 20 years since I left school, 'kay?!)<br />We sort of lost touch, until earlier this year when she - now living in London - realised I live in Ireland. A couple of phone calls and emails later and there we were, sipping Earl Grey tea (me) and Cuppacinos (Dee) in Covent Garden. <br />(I forget what Li'l Sis had to drink - possibly one of each - but I do recall a definite sugar rush because she just couldn't turn down a piece of tart..!)<br />Well it was as if we do this every week. The conversation flowed easily and sincerely and continued to do so until about 10pm. At some point, when it started getting a bit nippy outdoors, we walked a few blocks to a South African pub - "the Bok" - and there we found a table to sit at in one corner. The yakking continued uninterrupted, and I dare say if it wasn't for the fact that Dee had a long-ish train trip to get back home to her family, the evening might well have progressed in a very different vein, for at some point it was as if we were replaced by our 17-year-old selves, laughing and gossiping in that way girls of that age do, and enjoying that very special bond we have with our friends at that age. No doubt the reminiscing about what we used to get up to helped!<br /><br />As it was, when the time came we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Li'l Sis and I proceeded to mimic our previous evening, only this time we stayed up 'till 5am, talking. <br />What didi we talk about? <br />None of your business ;-)<br /><br />By the time we managed to leave the flat on Sunday it was already 4pm so breakfast was out of the question. A good solid steak, chips & salad at a place down the road sorted us out just nicely, and then it was time for me to return home, rejuvinated, unburdened and a little bit more like the Me I used to be all those years ago.<br />I'm beginning to think it should be compulsory for all women to meet up with old school friends on a regular basis. It's really good for the soul.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-80096031888868985672008-10-23T20:12:00.002+01:002008-10-23T20:14:32.456+01:00my friend says this reminds her of me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6U99dBZsEwL95F36FfiPPFbwM5EY7mO4UWB0ewV_VwzfZBI6uHIjfFaD59NYB0lJYjcsetv_fjxDkHdn2vFIsIC0FEMUYNbSkxOddXBur70CfBgtf6RnxVTP7fE5TNmN0vG4n/s1600-h/ca6b7e5241.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6U99dBZsEwL95F36FfiPPFbwM5EY7mO4UWB0ewV_VwzfZBI6uHIjfFaD59NYB0lJYjcsetv_fjxDkHdn2vFIsIC0FEMUYNbSkxOddXBur70CfBgtf6RnxVTP7fE5TNmN0vG4n/s400/ca6b7e5241.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260429815296212258" border="0" /></a><br />It's been doing the rounds & I hope I'm not infringing on any copyrights here, but I love this one!!!Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-53485639440713148062008-10-12T16:41:00.005+01:002008-10-12T17:26:35.827+01:00I don't know if they did but it sounds like something 'They' would sayThey say a bit of hard work never killed anyone.<br />While I'm sure some of the poor souls buried in the Great Wall of China might disagree, I suppose it's hard to argue when one is encased in that much concrete.<br />The point is, though, that it hasn't killed <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">me</span> yet - too much hard work, that is, not the Great Wall of China. I haven't been to see it yet, come to think of it I must remember to put that on my List of Things to Do before I Die... which hopefully won't be from too much hard work.<br /><br />What my recent bout of long working hours <span style="font-style: italic;">has</span> done, apart from score me a bunch of overtime pay*, is kill my creativity - or at least force it into hibernation. So in the absence of creative writing, I would like to share my opinion on the current state of the world.<br /><br />(I hope the world is ready for this!)<br /><br />Here's the thing: I would like to send everyone a copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. And I don't mean the book written by Douglas Adams, brilliant though it was. No, I'm talking about the <span style="font-style: italic;">actual guide</span> - the one that has the words "DON'T PANIC" on the front in big flashing letters.<br />Because here are the facts as I see them:<br />Yes, share prices are down... now I know that this was all started off by some people making bad decisions and losing actual money but let's face it, the more people panic, the worse the situation is going to get. Surely people realise that some point things have to stablilise? We need the banks, and the banks need each other, and the banks need us, so the sooner everyone just stops panicking the sooner the sky will stop falling on our heads and yes, children, things will begin to climb back up again. It's the nature of the beast. We (meaning the population of the world) need to remember that the stock markets are NOT a living organism with a mind of it's own. The source of it all is people. So if the people stop to take a breath and look beyond their noses, things will start to get better again.<br /><br />I overheard someone say that they have lost a bunch of money in shares. Bullshit. I know for a fact that this person has owned these shares for a few years now. These particular shares are now worth around about what they were bought for all those years ago. So unless the share prices continue to drop and this person then decides to sell them (which would be really dumb, in my opinion), they have lost nothing. They still have the shares. The market will stabilise. The share price will climb again and then they will be back to having made some money.<br /><br />See how simple it is?<br /><br />So let us all do us all a favour:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">DON'T PANIC!!!<br /></div><br />Spread the word. The sooner the better.<br /><br /><br />~T<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">* What, you think I do it for the love of the job??!</span>Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11797778.post-31770806247000030842008-09-27T23:03:00.003+01:002008-09-27T23:07:23.119+01:00i wanna go home!It's 11pm on a Saturday night and I wanna go home.<br /><br />Where am I, if not home, you ask?<br />Work.<br /><br />I'm in the miserable, broken-aircon, smells-like-old-pizza office. Last night I was here 'till midnight. And tomorrow - Sunday - well, I don't even want to hazard a guess at this stage.<br /><br />I really hope you're having a better weekend than I am.Terrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158421102740382411noreply@blogger.com4