I really just need to shut up sometimes and not make flippant jokes.

Had fun at the eye hospital today.

Remember how I made jokes about soldering irons to the eyes? Well about that…

Turns out that while my body lets me down daily every way it can think of (I realise I should probably write about this given many wont know how broken I am!) and in the most original, rare and imaginative ways but when it comes to tear ducts I am blooming Wolverine. Very typical, very me and utterly unsurprising at this point.

Even without the X-man magic leading to my previously cauterised lower tear ducts reopening I was once more headed toward the hellish regions of more eye surgery. We only found out about my powers of healing (but only when healing is the one thing not desired) while poking around in my eyes to put teeny tiny plastic bath plugs in my upper tear ducts as an interim measure while I waited to have those cauterised. So the plans changed. He stuck the bath plugs in my ‘reopened under new management’ lower tear ducts instead, taking great delight in informing me that not only had they reopened but they where now bigger than they had been previously, he then proved his point by squirting saline solution down the back of my throat via my eye an experience I am sad to report is not a new one but one I will never, ever, get used to. So now I wait for a date for round two of soldering the lower ducts closed and my upper ones can be a special gift for Christmas 2015. I also have a whole new collection of eye drops, one of which I was gleefully informed is ‘even more gooey’.


Last time I sported my two black eyes for three weeks so by quickly utilising my astounding A level maths skills that will be 6 wonderful weeks or 11.4% of this year spent looking like an aged balding panda and it also means that I will have to keep still while a soldering iron is pressed into my eye at least 4 times, possibly (like last time) by somebody who has never done it before. I will also be reminded what burning flesh smells like (spoiler: unpleasant) on two separate occasions. I have so very much to look forward to this year. My year. My year.


Pictured: My year as a cautionary tale.

I’m not finished whining yet about todays tails of woe and karmic red letters pointing out the folly of making light of things.

The next hit was in the form of text message while I sorted the children out for bed. Yes, bed. THE beds. The ones we weren’t talking about, most defiantly weren’t thinking about and had foolishly bargained to at least have one week of term before I had to deal with. I should have known really. When I had to turn the pre christmas delivery down they only let me in on their exiting plans the day before so why on earth I was surprised to get a text this evening informing me that the beds would be delivered tomorrow afternoon is beyond me. I can’t tell them not to deliver again but I am also no nearer being ready so I am going to have to deal with living in a flat pack warehouse as I somehow manage to dispose of a set of bunk beds, a metal frame double bed, a huge wardrobe thing (the open type thankfully, small mercies and all that, no doors.), a chest of draws, one single mattress and one double mattress. In a 3 door Corsa called Bob. Can he do it? Don’t be bloody daft.

To complete the holy trinity of things I have written about and clearly jinxed myself about for ever more the girl has swimming in the morning and if you think I am as organised enough to have her swim kit all in one place post Christmas holidays then you haven’t been reading.

I did today while at the hospital however happen to hear one of the best names I have ever had the pleasure of coming across. Congratulations to Penelope Gotobed. You win big… although I appreciate that childhood was most likely painful and you are probably on the brink of jail time if one more person makes one more joke…


The road to B.O.B

Day 9

It has been brought to my attention that not only have I failed to introduce the new member of our little clan I have also failed to note the significance of this addition.

I am naturally talking about the little car. A name for this hunk of metal has not yet been chosen as it is not yet been formally adopted and is just now in a fostering situation until final decisions have been made so for now we shall refer to it Bob (More accurately B.O.B – Borrow Or Buy).


Pictured: Bob in his best light

I little background to start us off. I have been the holder of a driving licence for almost 20 years however for a medley of boring reasons I found myself around 6 years ago in a situation where I didn’t have easy access to a car and my need to drive was low. This ended up with me forgetting to renew my driving licence when the photo expired.

It continued to be forgotten about and then the cumulative side effects of one of my medications combined with the temporary increases of said medication when I so carelessly dismounted a moving horse via the emergency exit came together to cause my corneas to resemble an LP owned by an over enthusiastic yet amateur DJ in the early 80’s. My doctors over at what we call up in Liverpool the ‘Gozzy Hozzie’ where somewhat relieved to find I wasn’t currently driving, they recommended that I keep it that way.

Now, we are a couple of years on from that. I have a strict and continued regime of all the eye drops ever made applied every hour or so of the day combined with having had my lower tear ducts cauterised, one eye was done by my consultant and the other by a student who had never done it before. New pants where required after I had the experience of a young man leaning over me with what amounts to a soldering iron asking his boss which bit of my eye he needed to stick it in while his hand shook with nerves. Thankfully about a year after my brush with the soldering iron I was passed fit to drive (as long as several gallons of goo a day kept my eyes artificially lubricated) and it was just case of sorting out my licence.

Due however to the very long time since I had needed it I had to change what felt like every little detail, my address, my name, my picture and naturally I had no clue where the paper counterpart of expired photo card where located so I was going to have to do the job lot with the DVLA.

We now enter into the long and boring bureaucratic process of banging ones head against a brick wall but suffice to say that in early December I was finally in possession of an up to date photo card driving licence with all the correct details. All I needed was some wheels to go with it. (Minor side note, I completely failed to think though my wardrobe choice for the picture, the orange jumper means it could be mistaken for a prison I.D. I was sad enough as it was at losing the old picture, the still teenaged me looked good in that picture, I have now lost all possible means of pretence.)

Getting mobile again had become a massive, massive deal once I had become a single parent, I live in the village that public transport forgot. My organisation levels did become unheard of for me and the ease of online shopping and supermarket delivery made life at least liveable however for things like doctors, dentists, hospitals and just all those general bits and bobs you take for granted when you have means of transport I was more than a bit stuck. Yes I have lovely friends who will always help out but it is simply not practical or reasonable to ask for help with some things and I really hate to put people out. However generous people are it just isn’t cricket to, for example, ask somebody to drive me to the hospital for an appointment and then either wait around with me for hours or be on call to come back and get me at some unspecified time. The biggest thing though is work. Having transport means being able to get more work in. I shall be talking more about the work thing in a post planned for later in the week but the bottom line is, driving is essential for me to earn my living.

So, we get to Bob, eventually. I have had use of Bob for almost 3 weeks now and apart from all the little runs to shops and things so far Bob has allowed me to take the children on a couple of outings and we have more planned for next week, Bob enabled me to make the most of a difficult Christmas afternoon by allowing me to go and be with horses and help out a friend in the process, there are also things Bob has helped me with that are on the banned topics list so we will skip to the fact that Bob has also just taken me between Oxfordshire and Cambridgeshire and back again so I could go and see the biggest bitch in the known galaxy and call her a bitch and a few other names to boot. Bob even got me through Milton Keynes, twice, it is hard to ask more of Bob than that.

Hopefully Bob will become a permanent member of our little madcap family, and if it is not this Bob, it will be another because I am officially mobile again and I fully intend to make the very most of it.