If only I was not so clumsy...

On my 22^nd Birthday, I chipped my tooth on a bottle of Chardon, classy ay.   I was in the backseat of a friends car, he was not feeling well and was driving us into town.  He hit the gas, as I raised the bottle to my lips and they collided.  I did not realise till the next day that I had chipped my tooth.  Not a big chip, but big enough that it is still there and that I can notice it.

I am clumsy.  Not in a cute, adorable, oh she fell over kind of way, but in a messy heap at the bottom of the stairs kind of way.  Which brings me to stairs.  I am terrible at them.  I have fallen up them, down them, sideways off them.  I have been seriously injured on them twice.  Once was when I was a teenager and playing silly buggers.  I was going up stairs three at a time with my friends and somehow managed to fall backwards and dislocate my knee.  It was awful watching it pop out and then when my foot hit the ground watching and feeling it pop back in.  I was strapped up for about 6 weeks and now have a permanently weak knee.

The next time I really hurt myself it was also on the stairs.  I was rushing out the door with my jandals on to move my car so that my friends could get out of their driveway.  It had been raining, I slipped on their wooden stairs and fell from the top to the bottom,  then landed in a muddled heap.  With a thud.  They came running around the corner and found me there, beginning to untangle myself.  My ankle was not a great colour.  Sprained rather badly.  I managed to move the car, take a shower, and then get to my parents where my Dad and nephew doted on me for the rest of the day.  Sam was so cute.  He kept patting my leg asking if I was ok and then crawling onto my lap for stories, he was lucky as I was his captive all day.  I spent another 6 weeks in flats and with a swollen ankle.  It’s still not right.

 

I always thought that I would grow out of my clumsiness before I had a million smile lines.  I thought that one day I would not fall over my own feet.  Instead I continue to slip, fall and injure myself in public, private or otherwise.  I guess that there are loads of things that we hope that we grow out of.  I always thought growing up that I would become one of those people who would be able to jump out of bed and not look like something that the cat dragged in the night before.  That I would have my life together and learn to budget.  I wanted to grow up.  But alas I am still waiting for that time to come.  And still wondering when I will grow up. 

 

The one thing that is the way I thought that it would be when I grew up, is that I am living in London.  I wanted to do that from a very young age.  I have travelled and seen the world.  I always wanted that.  Not quite in the way that I thought I would, but I have done it.  But then nothing is ever like you think it will be.  You have an image in your head and the reality might be similar but never quite as you thought.

So what did you think that your life would be like when you grew up?  Are you living it?  What is different about it?

Hold onto your hats

Life in the world of Nic this week, has been for want of a better word a rollercoaster.  Or a box of chocolates.  At any moment life is surprising me this week.  Both good and not so good.

Sunday was a lesson in hoping as hard as you can, in squeezing your eyes shut and believing.  It’s fair to say that NZ was very confident in their boys going into the Rugby World Cup final.  Every report I heard was saying that the French were going to get trounced from the get go.  Shockingly this was not the case.   From a very intense Haka onwards the game was tense and intense.  Wow what a haka too, goosebumps all over.  I spent the last ten minutes of that game gripping my friend’s Alex and Nicky’s hands for dear life, all of us watching with one eye open hoping that we could hold them off.  When the whistle blew, a packed to capacity pub, screamed, were on their feet, and shed tears of sheer relief and joy.  I was jumping up and down with my pompoms (did you really expect anything less?) and hugging anyone who was in the vicinity.  I nearly burst with pride of my country and the All Blacks.  My excitement was short lived as pretty much as soon as the game was over I had to head to work, and by the time I got back to the pub, it was closed as they had run out of everything.  Sounds like I missed a great party.  But we were able to raise a glass or two of champagne to the boys and to our homeland.  I am very grateful for my friends and the pub that they own.  They have opened at all hours of the day and night for the rugby, they have put up with crazy behaviour and worked so damn hard.  I raised a glass to them as well.

Monday came with a crash and my French friend, Marion was not so happy about the All Blacks winning, it’s been hard to express the joy in the office with her there.  There is nothing worse than a bad winner (take note Aussie), so I have dulled it down a bit in her presence.  Strangely, all I have heard from the French is that the ref was dodgy?  I would like to think that I am not so one eyed that I missed that, but maybe the reality is that I am cause I thought that he did a good job? 

Work for me is a bit of a rollercoaster in itself at the moment.  There are another few busy months coming up, to be different from the last few busy months, and I am wondering if I have the energy.  What keeps me going right now are the pictures that my sis sent me of her in her wedding dress and the thought of my wee nephew in December.   Also of a Summer – its still dark at 8.30am here, and it’s getting depressing.  Then on Monday I found out that my friends and I have Paralympics tickets.  Then I realised that one of the events that we have is on a friend’s wedding day.  See what I mean about the ups and downs.

I have been going mental trying to lose weight for this wedding as well.  But the reality is that in some ways my body is working against me with the endo hormones.  Still it’s nice to feel that muscle soreness that comes with a good workout.  I attempted Zumba the other day, I think that I need an extreme beginners class.  To top that off was mistaken for pregnant on the tube today.  I have been faithfully assured that I do not look pregnant by the few friends that I dared tell.  Still renewed my resolve to exercise more.

This weekend brings good things – Friday is wear it pink for breast cancer day.  I find that very emotional, having lost two family members to breast cancer.  Pink is also one of my fav colours so there is no shortage of things to wear pink.  Dress, shoes and bracelet, am contemplating a pink wig for after work.  Then Halloween at the pub – I love a good dress up and then it all starts again with working on Sunday. 

 

So there is my rollercoaster, one moment I am in floods over The Help or Downton Abbey and the next minute I am jumping for joy that I have Paralympics tickets or that I am going on a Beekeeping course.  Life is a funny old thing and I guess that there is a bit more of this nuttiness to come.  So hold onto your hats and keep all of your limbs within the vehicle, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

Give em a taste of Kiwi!

New Zealand is tonight/this morning, sitting on the brink of the Rugby World Cup Final.  Even from London, I can feel the excitement and nervousness of a whole country holding its breath.  The truth is that I am holding my breath too and am wondering how I am going to sleep tonight.

I am feeling like I wish I was at home (not only are they 12 hours ahead so therefore closer to the game) (I know that’s not technically right but it feels that way)but they are also standing together in Black and going to go mental if we win.  And it’s that feeling of camaraderie that I am looking for.

Luckily, I know where to find it.  My nearest and dearest London family, will tomorrow be getting up at godawful  a clock for the last time.  For the last time the ritual will begin.  There will be a yummy cooked breakfast, there will be a mad scramble to the pub and a feeling like we are all in this together.  I have my black pompoms ready, I have my black outfit planned and am wearing my bone carving.  And I am nervous as hell.  I am looking forward to the haka and a good game of rugby.  Once the game is over, they will partying for the rest of the day.  I will be taking a party break to head to work for a few hours, I tried but could not get out of it.  But then I will be back, sad to have missed the pies and the pig on the spit, but glad to see my friends and have a few well earned (hopefully) celebratory drinks.

It’s been interesting being so far from home for this momentous tournament.  At every turn I have heard that the All Blacks are about to choke and that this we will be out.  I have sat quietly and heard about how the South Africans or the Welsh were going to take the cup.  Now it’s my turn.  I am so damn proud that the All Blacks are in the final.  And to all of you who have doubted – Look at the scoreboard, how you like them apples and suck on that.  Sorry but it had to be said.  I am scared for the All Blacks as there is a huge amount of pressure on them with a home crowd, but they have beaten the French before in this competition and I hoping that they will do it again.

I have loved the internet fun of this tournament.  I have Kept Calm when Piri has come on.  That is not true, I have jumped out of my seat and screamed my heart out when he has come on.  I have loved the pictures of man love moments.  I really enjoyed the pictures of Israel Dagg(er) taking off like a super hero.  I have been so proud of my country, who have been amazing hosts to this tournament.  I have been so excited to hear my 7 year old nephew name all of the players and to have him tell me that he supports Wales cause its his heritage.  He was gutted when they were out.

So New Zealand, no matter what happens tomorrow/today, you should be proud.  You should be proud that you made it this far, proud of the show that you put on, proud of the rugby that you have played.  And proud of the party that you have thrown.  I am proud of you beyond belief, my heart swells with it every time you run on the field.  Now All Blacks, lets Give’m a taste of kiwi and Let's get it started!!!!!!!

Spelling is not my forte

When I was growing up I had real trouble with spelling.  I could not do it.  I had real trouble with getting my b’s and d’s round the right way.  And I guess I am just in too much of a hurry to get what I want to say down to be too worried about how it’s spelt.

But there is one incident from my childhood that sticks with me.  Part of my craziness is that I still feel guilt about stuff that happened a long time ago, half the time when I am not even to blame or did nothing wrong.  Maybe guilt is not the right word, but I am still affected by these happenings.

When I was about 7 or 8, I was in Mr Allen’s class.  He was very strict but fair and he went to school with my Dad.  I really liked him as a teacher.  But I just could not learn to spell.  Each week, just I imagine, like every other class in the world, we had to learn 10 spelling words.  One week I was having trouble with a particular word, I can’t even remember what the word was.  My Mum must have been so very frustrated with me, my sister could spell perfectly and I really could not.

 

Anyway the afternoon of the test came around, and I was very nervous, I was sure that I had learnt this word finally.  But in the spelling test, it was not called out.  I was upset as I had worked so hard.  So I wrote it on the page below the test just to prove to myself that I could spell it.  But when I handed my book into my teacher, he accused me of putting it there before the test so that if it was called out that I could cheat.  I was really upset, cause not only was a teacher that I really liked, accusing me of cheating, but was not willing to hear what I had to say.  And I had worked so hard.

I remember that afternoon when my Mum came to pick me up, her asking me what was wrong and I didn’t say anything, but making myself scarce when Mr Allen came to chat with the Mums.  I have no idea if he told her or not, but I don’t remember any punishment at school or at home.  But I felt bad that I had been accused of something that I did not do.

These days, I use spell check quite a lot, and am a lot better at spelling.  I still have trouble getting what I want to say down the page fast enough, just like in real life when I can’t say what I want to say fast enough either.  The moral of this story is this – small kids will take what you say to heart and remember it 20 odd years on.  So be careful what you say and make sure that you hear them out.  Oh and that, really, after 20 odd years I should really be over this.

Shut up and put your money where your mouth is...

That’s what you get for waking up in Vegas.  This song has been stuck in my head for the last 24 hours since I watched Miss Perry rock the O2 arena in her deeply personal style.  I loved absolutely every minute of it and fell more in love with Katy Perry than I really thought possible.

When this chick first burst onto the scene, I was travelling through Europe and everyone from teens to 20 somethings, were singing ‘I kissed a girl’ and I was not really sure what to make of it.  I liked its catchy tune and thought that the premise was ballsy, especially from this gorgeous chick who was reportedly from a very religious family.

For me a wee bit has changed since that time.  It’s been a while since I have written a blog, mainly because I have been run off my feet being the social butterfly that you all know and love.  I have been out of circulation for a while due to being ill and I have now been catching up with all of those that I have missed.  In typical London fashion my activities have been varied and all just as exciting for different ways.  I have seen Much Ado About Nothing at The Globe – where it is supposed to be seen and was blown away by it.  I have been watching loads of rugby and screaming at the tele.  I have been to loads of movies and have reacquainted myself with the delight that is Ryan Gosling.  I met Noel Fielding and practically wet myself with excitement when he signed my book.  I have been to a cute pop up cinema.  And I saw Katy Perry.  And back to the point.  My life has changed a bit since she popped up on the scene.  But in some ways it has not changed at all.

I am still single, still travelling, still a little lost, still a little found, still love concerts, devour books and boxed sets, and still love my friends and family the world over.  And I still love a bit of girl power in a song.  I love that Katy Perry is a gorgeous, tiny girl, with a huge voice and a lot to say.  I love that she knows that she is sexy as hell and is not afraid to use it.  I love her very thinly veiled lyrics – I wanna see your Peacock anyone?  I wish that I had it in me to be so sexy and so confident! 

Which brings me to my next point.  I have been reading a lot of magazines recently and I am more than a little disturbed by the number of articles that are aimed at single 30+ chicks about how hopeless their lives are.  Ummmm my life is anything but hopeless.  These articles say that they work hard so they don’t have time for relationships, others say that they don’t work hard enough so they have no money.  They say that woman are depressed, lonely and workaholics.  I think that we all go through periods like this, but I would not say that my life is hopeless.  On any given night of the week you will be lucky to see me at home.  I am not out being depressed.  I am laughing my head off enjoying whatever delight has appeared before me.  I am not lonely, I have more friends that I can keep up with, all over the world.  I work hard, but I like to balance this by playing hard.  I think that anyone who knows me could attest that sometimes I get a bit down, but not for long and that with a bit of distraction I will be in fits of giggles once more.

So maybe someone needs to start writing about the positive side of being fabulous and single.  Someone needs to say, hey, so what you are not attached, but you know what, London and the world are full of other wonderful unattached people who are out there living and loving life.  Go join them and who knows, you future could hit you smack in your smiling mouth.  Then you too will be singing about Last Friday Night and the messy happiness that you had.  Something to think about huh.

A smile and a giggle make the world go round

The last two weeks have been very confusing.  I feel like I have been on a rollercoaster of emotions and situations and am really no clearer on where I am from two weeks ago.  But there is one thing that has stayed permanent, and that is my smile, well most of the time.  Smiling is good for you (much like vodka), it makes you feel better to smile, it makes you look younger (momentarily anyway, my smile lines do not make me look that young anymore), it makes your eyes sparkle and it makes others happy as well.

I never really realised how much of a smiler I was until it was pointed out to me.  Two weeks ago I was introduced at a Board meeting, as ‘there sits Nicola Whyte, smiling as usual.’ Which then made me grin more. 

My flatmate told me tonight that my giggle makes her giggle.  She loves to hear me laughing to myself whilst watching tele.  Which made me laugh cause my boy flatmates once told me that my tv laugh was awful and needed work.  Bastards.

My close friends here, when sitting down after a hard shift, told me that their new staff member was like me, smiling all of the time. 

Another time, they laughed at me when I was smiling at the rugby ball as it was being thrown to me.  There were a few reasons for this – not being sporty, I was pleased to be about to catch the damn thing, and I was scared of having it hit me in the face, so was smiling to will it to be nice to me.

And I guess that is the point.  I believe that what you put out into the world is what you get back.  Which sounds very cliché, but to quote yet another cliché, keep it simple.  Most creeds and religions boil down to this, be a good person, live high and be nice. 

Over the last little while life has been a bit difficult.  I have been very ill with some mystery virus, that according yet more blood tests appears to have finally left me.  I am still very tired, but am glad to be back out in the world and seeing my friends again.  Work has been a bit unsettled.  That is far too boring and involved to get into here.  But throughout all of this nuttiness, I have tried really hard to keep smiling and to have a giggle.  It’s not always been easy.  But it has been appreciated.  Which kinda makes me feel a bit warm and fuzzy.

I love hearing children laugh.  I used to love tickling my nephew, till he was red in the face and giggling uncontrollably.  Or telling him silly jokes.  That would make my day.  Maybe that is what I need right now – a cuddle from a silly sausage called Sam.  But I will have to wait about 9 and a half weeks for that.  And that will be a long 9 and a half weeks if they are all like the last two.

So after these nuts times I am focusing on what is to come that is going to make me smile.  A friend is coming to stay tomorrow before moving home, its about 12 days till what has been dubbed Katy Perry Day, its about 9 ½ weeks till I board a plane to go home, before then there will be endless Christmas parties and there are still a few friends that I have not caught up with since I was ill.  Bring it on world, this chick will be smiling despite it all and counting down the days till I step on that plane.

What makes you smile?  How do you deal with a rubbish day?  Are you a smiler or a frowner?