The time I visited Eastbourne

As I sit in front of the tele, feeling sorry for myself with the flu, wearing my fluffy jammies, slipper socks and glasses, awaiting the delivery from Hell’s Pizza (ummm how you like me now?), I am reminded of the story that I promised to tell.  No its still not the story of the last tequila debacle, I am not sure that I will ever be ready to tell that, only a select few know that story, but this is the story of a comedy of errors when I went to Eastbourne.

It started out innocently enough.  My then boyf wanted decided to cycle to Eastbourne on a tandem for charity.  There was no training involved and although he was fit, he was not really ready for that.  I was excited as I had never been to Eastbourne before, so I got on the train from Victoria, having proudly remembered to purchase my tickets online and to get them from the machine, unlike the time I went to Edinburgh where I had to pay twice.  But that is another crazy episode in the life of Nic.

So I got on the train, and settled in to begin reading the first Twilight, because my Mum the teenage librarian told me that it was good.  Now let’s be honest, the first one was good, it all went downhill from there.  I managed to get to Eastbourne and find the hotel without a hitch.  Although our hotel was full of old people who were playing bingo when I got there.  No word of a lie there.  It was such a nice day, so I decided to go down to the seaside, I had discovered a long time ago that it is not a beach, but a collection of pebbles. 

I got a deck chair and sat down to enjoy the sunshine and Twilight.  It was lovely, until I put the book down on my lap to enjoy the view and THEN OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS BITING ME!!!!! A freaking bee stung me.  God that hurt, and I had no idea if I was allergic or not, having never been stung before.  I could feel my leg swelling up and not really knowing what to do, I pulled the sting out, where it had stung me through my trousers.  And then hobbled back to the elderly hotel.  

When I checked out my thigh, it was huge and very red.  And I was now not feeling great.  So I decided to lie down for a bit, and I ended up sleeping for about 3 hours. 

I awoke to the phone, the boy and the bike telling me that they were still ages away and that I should probably have dinner on my own.

Me after the stinging, before dinner, in the days before the fringe

All good, I got up, freshened up and had a lovely walk on the pier and decided to have  dinner at a fish and chip restaurant outside.  Boyf called to say that they were not allowed to finish the race, they had made it 70 miles, but still had 7 to go, that they were getting in a van and would be back in about an hour.  I ordered my fish and chips and even ventured to have the mushy peas.  My dinner was delicious and I was really enjoying it.  Even tried the peas and they were ok.  But then a bird that was flying over, shat in them.  Yes it shat in my mushy peas.  I was not really sure what to do, so I decided that it was time to get the check.  As I texted the boyf to find out if he needed lucozade, paracetamol or anything else, he texted back to say, he just needed a beer and a hug.  Oh and they were only 10mins away.  I signalled the waitress for the cheque, you should have seen the look on her face when she clocked the bird shit.  She asked if I wanted some more.  Erh no thanks, just the cheque.

So I busted a move down the boardwalk to the park where the finish line was and was there just in time to see them come in and to congratulate them.  We stayed to help clean up and then headed back to our hotel so that he could have a shower.  Our hotel was filled with old Scottish people for some reason and when we walked in, we had to walk through them as they listened to a really old man playing an organ.  It was odd and very creepy.  We managed to find a Chinese restaurant that was open late and although it was full of a stag do, the food was good.

The next day, we soon realised that we were the only ones under 30 in Eastbourne, we walked the pier and visited the lifeboat museum, turns out the oldies were rubbing off on the boyf who bought two tea towels?

So we decided to head home.  Turns out that I am rubbish at buying train tickets, even though I had purchased an open return, it was only for the same day, so I had to buy a whole new ticket.  Then when we finally got on the dumb train, we were settled and boyf thought that someone smelt so we had to move.  We got up to get off in Clapham Junction when I realized that I had left my backpack at the other seat on the top shelf thing.  It was no longer there – after some swearing under my breath, I was told that the conductor had removed it at Haywards Heath as no one had claimed it.  I hunted down the conductor who confirmed that this was the case and called them to tell them that I was coming back to get it.  Then he kindly wrote me a note saying that I could go back for free.  So I sent boyf home with all the luggage and set off again – two hours later I was finally home.  Less than impressed though.

So that was my chapter of disasters all within a 24 hour period.  My Mum laughed for a long time after this story.  It took me a while to get over it and the boyf didn’t last.  But it was the first and the last time I visited Eastbourne!

Feel Good NehNeh Songs

I remember when I was in my early 20's I remember taking great delight in this song...

I had just been cheated on and this was just the song that I need to belt out to say F you.

And then recently I heard this song and was reminded of how good I felt about The Corrs.  Whilst I hardly have someone begging me to get back together, I can see that this will be a song that many young girls will use this song to get over their broken hearts.

So what song do you use to get you in the F you mood?

PS:  I have done some research and Taylor Swift is definately not a rascist.

Spanx - the work of God or Devil, Discuss

I love my spanx.  They are a godsend when it comes to looking ‘smooth’ under a dress.  When I mean smooth, I mean unlumpy, they also make you drop about half a dress size.  The excess is pushed to other areas such as boobs.  Which I already have ample of; hence the need for Spanx, so that is not really necessary, just makes them bigger.

So here is why I think that Spanx are a godsend as well as the work of the devil.  When you get your Spanx of the box, they come with a cardboard insert, which has pictures of all the things that you can do in them – apparently these are fight fires, run a marathon, wash the dishes and a few others that I cannot remember.  I wash dishes, but I tend to do this with my clothes on. 

 

First comes with the getting of them on.  They are very tight and as I have discovered they will mush your organs in, so it is best to go to the bathroom as much as you can before you lever yourself into these things.  Because once you get them on, it will be difficult to get them off.  It’s up to you if you choose to wear knickers underneath them, I choose to.  Which means that it makes it harder to use the gusset hole.  Seriously Spanx a gusset hole?  We are not men, we are not going to be able to aim through that.  So that means the Spanx which I wear from just under my bra, down to my mid-thigh have to come off when I go for a wee.  Hence, get as much as you can out before you attempt to get them on.  The getting of them on, designed by the devil.

Once you have sweated with the effort of getting them on, the results are immediate, you will be able to zip up that dress and you will be able to move quite freely.  I have danced the night away in them many a time and have not been hampered at all.  This is the godsend of them.  Other slimming underwear can be very restrictive, and actually painful, but with Spanx this is not the case.  They are not painful at all, they move with you and ensure that you are able to dance the night away.  Which in my case is essential.

The getting in and out of these for the necessity of a wee is the work of the devil.  As mentioned before there is a gusset hole.  I have laughed over this hole many times with my friends.  When I have not been wearing them, we have both examined this hole, and whilst we can see the purpose for it, many of us can see that in practicality it would not work.  I am sure that there are some dedicated women among us who have perfected this, but I am not one of them and I don’t really want to walk around smelling of wee, so I prefer to remove the Spanx at this time.  So picture this if you will.  A tipsy me, in a tiny toilet cubicle, yanking down these slimmers, going for a wee and then struggling back into them.  So far there have been no mishaps, but I can predict that somewhere out there, there are some hilarious stories.

The other best bit is the end of the night.  Taking you Spanx off is similar to removing your skyscraper heels, the relief is amazing.  My skin always itches as the blood returns to it.  I always laugh to myself as I do it, at least I am by myself and there is no one there to watch that particular spectacle.

So this is my clumsy tribute to Spanx.  Spanx you have made me look better on many occasions, you have kept me in and held me tight.  You have enabled me to dance the night away and have no worry about wobbling everywhere.  I would love to see a day when I am comfortable enough with my body to not care and to go without them.  But again, not sure that this day is coming in the next we while.  I would love to foresee a day when I no longer need you, but think that our relationship is very safe for now.