I had a really really good day today

virtually normal, in fact

please remind me of this next time I'm feeling all fed up and miserable

ta

*WARNING*

*this contains
TOO MUCH INFORMATION
so if you are of a delicate disposition
(it's OK folks, dave will be out of the library by now)
(anyone else, don't say I didn't warn you!)
please click off
and go look somewhere else instead*
.

.
(I mean that in the nicest possible way)

so, for the last month I have had a HUGE fear of razor blades and kitchen knives

the latter I have not overcome (so I'm buying ready-made salads and ready-prepared fruit salads at the moment) and the former I have just overcome. . .

now, see, I don't do "relaxing in the tub" and I envy people who can

I sit in a bath while it fills up, wash my hair, cover my hair in conditioner (not the roots, cos a hairdresser once told me that was the fastest way to lank locks that I girl could go) (the best advice I ever had from a hairdresser, I have to say) and then wash, and then when the bath is full I pull the plug out and turn on the shower (or lie backwards and stick my head under the tap) and rinse the conditioner out

then I get out, rinse the bath and dry off

*

when I was in the Head Clinic, I used to sit in these two places (my 50%+ place, and the 50%- one) and eventually, after a two or three or four weeks, a whole bunch of people just used to come and sit next to me wherever I was, whatever I was doing (thinking, smoking, sketching) and talk to me

I never used to talk to anyone, until the last week when I made a lovely friend, altho I did have a couple of conversations with a nurse whose job it was to take me to lunch and make sure I ate something (well, I figure that that was what he was being paid to do, anywhichway)

the nursing staff said it was good that people talked to me, cos it showed I was "approachable", I just used to think I wished there was someone I could talk to. . .

. . .people who heard voices-telling-them-to-do-things talked to me, cocaine addicts talked to me, alcoholics talked to me, other depressed/suicidal people talked to me, bipolar people talked to me, people who had not uttered one word to anyone else talked to me. . .

(I didn't talk to the last-week-friend about head stuff, only life stuff)

one girl/woman (cripes, she was probably my age, which makes her middle aged - YIKES - altho my mother died at 55, so I'm well into my old age now, if I share the same genes) used to come and sit next to me and cry and mutter about how her body hurt and her insides hurt and her head hurt and how she just wanted it to end and just wanted to be dead; I could relate to aspects of that - but in my experience empathy is near enough worthless when one is feeling that low; I used to lend her my cardi in the early morning when it was chilly; she had had some kind of really really bad toxic reaction to coming off her medication - they call it "Discontinuation Syndrome" now, altho it used to be known as "withdrawal effects"; sometimes I would stroke her shoulder, carefully - very carefully, cos even to touch her gently hurt her, but I wanted her to understand I had heard what she said even tho there was NOTHING I could do (sometimes that is all it takes - for someone to listen, even tho they can't DO anything). . .

I asked her one morning about if she ever felt OK - and she said yes, when she had a bath or a shower and washed her hair - the warm water helped

I suggested she take a bath or a shower three or even four times a day

it seemed obvious to me

she looked at me very quizzically

so, I've just taken a splash from the narrow spectrum of my own advice - I had a bath

but I broke the habit of a lifetime and made it a long one: before I turned on the faucet, I Immac-ed (AKA Veet®) my bikini-line into non existence; while the bath was filling, I waxed my legs from top to bottom; plucked my eyebrows and any stray hairs that are where hairs shouldn't be (*frowns*); I got in when the tub was almost full to overflowing and lay back and soaked; I lathered and washed my hair; rinsed, folded the conditioner in; I scrubbed my feet and inbetween my toes, and the soles of my feet, and my ankles with some gritty stuff that smelt nice; I shaved under my arms (that was the tricky bit); exfoliated my back and tummy and in between my breasts and across to my shoulders and down each arm and round to the back of my neck to my hair line and back around again to the front under my chin; I don't do fancy facial stuff - just use plain old water and a clean flannel, so I did that. . .

the water was quite bubbly and soapy, but not grubby (I haven't done anything recently, so I'm not very dirty) (in fact, dear reader, you'll be pleased to know, I'm not dirty at all!) (where's vicus when you need him?), so I just lay back and relaxed for a bit; then I pulled out the plug and rinsed my hair thru and all the bubbles off; got out, rinsed the bath itself; cleaned my ears with those cotton twiddly things (I needed three). . .

and now I'm sitting here drying off, wrapped in towels, with all the wraparound-glass-door-window-things pulled back wide open, The Penguin Cafe Orchestra serenading me and a gentle breeze blowing in and out

*

the scars on my left wrist and the back of my left hand and my arm and the inside of my elbow are criss-crossed and red and either lumpy or deep and jaggedy and perforated with stitch marks and dry (I need to moisturise them, apparently) - the wounds have healed, the scars remain: a reminder of what happens when you are sad and angry with yourself and unable to ask anyone for help; I'm learning. . .
.

*

razor blades are best used to keeping your underarms from looking like a bush, or - if you're a bloke - shaving patterns into the growth on your face/chin. . .

this morning

I am listening to The Penguin Cafe Orchestra

..
.

(yes! I worked out how to use the stereo CD player music thingy!)

.

my favourite tune of The Penguin Cafe Orchestra*
is from the album Signs of Life
and is called Bean Fields

but it's not on uTube - sadly - so you'll have to buy the album
(follow the link to their site above)
if you're interested
.
it's a worthwhile spend!
.

but this one I love,
it is so sexy, quite orgasmic (IMHO)
.
- do play it -
.
if the images offend close your eyes
(we're only human)
.
whatever way,
I hope it will bring
a smile to your face

..

*I first heard the music of the PCO in a bar called The Pelican Cafe, so of course I had to like it - pengiuns and pelicans being close to my heart. . . (but not as close as whooping cranes)

.

POST SCRIPT a safe video for dave to watch in the library

tonight

I worked out how to use the televisual machine. . .

this involved plugging the plug of the machine into a nearby electrical socket, flicking the switch of the socket to provide power to the machine, finding the switch on the machine (it was hidden underneath the screen, took me ages to discover it) that turns the whole thing on, working out which of the four remote controls adjacent to the televisual machine actually controls its function (we'll call it "box" for short, shall we) (eventually I decided it was probably the remote control that was the same brand as the "box"), finding batteries for said remote control, putting them into the back of the remote control, taking them out again and putting them in the right way around, working out which of the buttons on the remote control actually controls the "box"
.

eventually, I watched about two hours worth of programming, the first two hours of television I have watched in over eight weeks
.

the best bits were the commercial breaks (the best of which was one with people trampolining, and another one about a man who cycled around the world) (neither of which commercials were selling either trampolining or cycling) (I'm sure it's more about brand awareness than advertising, anyhow. . . the cycling one had something to do with my Orange Internet Everywhere thingy; the trampolining was someething to do with either a car or a bank)
..

tomorrow I might investigate the DVD machine (on the other hand, I might not)

little boats! little boats!

a long long time ago mel and mig and I met up at a wonderful photo blog, and we all loved the images with little boats in them. . .

. . .they have a special place in my heart (mel and mig, as well as the little boats!)

from the wraparound balcony view I see many boats

there is a north/east/south view I could sit at the northerly point of the balcony and look west, but for some reason I don't; probably because where I sit (facing east) means I can people-watch the people on the piazza many floors down. . .

the river flows almost directly east/west/east at this point (depending on the tide, well obviously the river is only flowing west/east, but the tidal waters mean the flow of the river goes in the other direction - east/west - when the tide is coming in)

I can see a road bridge and also a bridge that takes the Underground overground and over-river at this point

just under the bridge is a little yacht club - not much used (in all the time I've spent here recently, and over the last year, I have never seen anyone use it actually); there are some moorings - and some little boats

I've been drawing them from various different points of view - close up, as if I had a zoom lens; with the boats on the right one side of the picture, as part of other drawings of the river and the tide pools; and, on the left of the image, if I draw the river path which is lined with trees at this point - where it crosses the piazza

yesterday at just after high tide when the river was full and flowing downstream, a HUGE piece of driftwood (it looked as if it were the whole branch of a large tree) floated past, very close to the southern bank - I wondered if it was like an iceberg? how much of it I could see above water and how much was out of sight below the water?

what I could see was that the driftwood was going to lodge itself amongst the little boats and it duly did

this morning the tide is in and the river is full again the driftwood has gone but it has left its mark: all the little boats are out of their previous alignment

they used to look a little like this:

._

-.
_

._
_

./

-
_.

\

_.

(you have to imagine that the lines are
the angles of the hull of the boat,
the dots being their mooring buoys)

.
now they look like this:

._

/
.

\

\

.

.

/.

/
\.

.
this "event" means that I am now able to draw the boats from a different angle, it means that the ripples on the morning water are making a different pattern, it means that I was wrong earlier yesterday - when I thought I'd drawn all that there was to see in the two weeks that I've been here. . .

.

that is
very curious notion!
.
I hope that your day
brings you
something different
and interesting
to experience

the view

at some stage I will work out how to download photos from my phone (again) (yes, that old chestnut) (*SIGH*)

in the meantime, here is a verbal description of the London Town skyline from my perch in the heavens:

(West to East, cos I'm looking North)

the Wembley Arch, lots of cranes at Shepherd's Bush (they're building a new shopping complex), Primrose Hill (or it might be Hampstead Heath?), Earl's Court Exhibition Centre, the Natural History Museum, Imperial College, more cranes, the Post Office Tower, more cranes, the London Eye, Big Ben (tower and clockface), the Gherkin, more cranes, Chelsea Harbour, Battersea Power Station's four chimneys, more cranes, riverside apartment complexes, more cranes, the broadcasting tower at Crystal Palace, the hills this side of the South Downs

every recognisable site or building has office blocks and the rooves of houses inbetween

I'd rather be on a cliff watching the tide coming in and going out at Polzeath

or in the countryside perhaps on top of that famous hill (whose name escapes me) somewhere in Somerset or Avon

but I am here, and I'm making the most of it

the sun is shining, it's another beautiful day towards the end of July - bright, clear, a few cirrus* some strato-cumulus* clouds dotted about
.

know your clouds, people?!

.
cirrus are high white clouds with a silken or fibrous appearance;
cumulus are detached dense clouds which rise in domes
or towers from a level low base;
stratus are extensive layers or flat patches
of low clouds without detail;
cirrostratus is cirrus so abundant as to fuse into a layer;
cirrocumulus is formed of high clouds broken into
a delicate wavy or dappled pattern;
stratocumulus is a low-level layer cloud
having a dappled, lumpy, or wavy structure;
altocumulus is similar to stratocumulus,
but lies at intermediate levels;
altostratus is a thick, extensive, layer cloud at intermediate levels;
nimbostratus is a dark, widespread cloud with a low base
from which prolong drain or snow falls;
cumulonimbus is a large cumulus which produces
a rain or snow shower. . .

.

:-)

.
(*I don't have my copy of Gavin Pretor-Pinney's The Cloudspotters Guide here, which is a shame, cos I've probably gotten it wrong!)

.
I wonder if Cloud Nine is there anywhere?

I hope the sun is shining for you today
(yes! YOU!!)
virtually, in reality or metaphorically

shake, rattle and. . .

. . .

for the last few days I have had the most awful shivers and shakes and have felt utterly exhausted and weak

I assumed it was withdrawal symptoms (now, apparently, renamed "discontinuation syndrome") from coming off a drug which I've been prescibed/taking for seven months, even tho one is only supposed to be on it for a maximum of four-six weeks

today I've felt as if I'd been run over by a bus, every bone in my body aches, my chest is tight and I have zero energy

I'd promised Mini-Teen a bikini buying trip (she's going on her hols next week) and I didn't want to let her down; I was in so much pain that I thought a hot bath would help before we went out, so I had one

it took me half an hour, lying flat on my back on the bed, to recover

M-T had waited patiently all morning, so we set off just before lunch with a plan to eat in a cafe near the shops; I made it fifty yards up the street before I just knew if I took a step further in the wrong direction I'd faint

she let me lean on her on the way back here

I phoned the CitC team - to double check that these really were withdrawal symptoms. . . NO! not withdrawal symptoms: they recommended a trip to my GP, only I can only barely walk down the corridor; I arrange a lift and go

first question the GP asks is "do you have a temperature?"
.

I explain I have shivers and shakes and feel very very very very wobbly and trembly and everything aches like I've been crushed, have no energy and I can barely breathe. . .

. . .she sticks some thermometer gizmo in my ear; checks my chest and glands

no glandular swelling, no chest infection, I do have a raging temperature, something in the region of 39+ degrees - altho weirdly I don't feel hot - it's a viral infection, flu, that is why my bones ache; I can barely keep my eyes open as I sit in her office and feel like slipping off the chair and dropping to the floor

once back here again I take paracetamol (and am reminded of that dreadful joke about why there is no fever medication in the jungle? cos the parrots ate 'em all!) and drink masses and fall asleep (a sure sign I'm ill, as I never sleep in the day)

.
. .
I have another silly thing going round in my head
(I blame the witchy one!):
"time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana"
.

and it make me think
why do I like the view and/or how I am like the view. . .

.

(. . .in this case the visual view, as opposed to the opinion)
.
. . .of the river, from here:
.
the tide goes relentlessly in and out,
the river fills and empties,
.
sometimes it is like
a beautiful wide silvery sparkling ribbon of light
stretching gloriously between the buildings and parks of London Town,
.
othertimes it is like
a thin viscious jagged contorted twisting twisted hurtful hurting scar
which cuts the city in half

.
the paracetamol begins to kick in and feel slightly better than I have done for days: despite my physical state, my mood lifts

:-)