My BEEG holiday

 

I have not blogged since October because I had to keep a big secret.  I knew that if I wrote anything, I would either have to lie (which you know I don’t do well) or I would of had to have said something… so, instead, I chose to keep quiet.

 

Now that it is all said and done, let me tell you what my BIG secret was.

 

The month of November saw me travel back to South Africa as a surprise for my dad’s 50th birthday.  It does not sound like much, but it took a lot to keep this from him!  For those of you who know my father, you know how quickly he notices something suspicious.  I had planned and paid for this trip in June and let my mother know in July.  I was petrified that she would let slip that I was going (as she is not very good at keeping exciting things a secret, particularly exciting things a secret from my father!) The only other people who knew I was going were my sister and Shaun.  Unfortunately, Shaun could not keep the secret and before long, let his family know I was coming.  This really upset me (all the planning for months and one sentence could now potentially destroy it).  Along with the surprise, I attempted to get the family to contribute to a scrapbook, which I would put together once in South Africa. 

 

The two weeks leading up to November were really really hard.  I was excited about seeing everyone (and surprising my father!) and could not wait to hop on the plane [My Dad had sent me an email asking what I had planned for November and December.  I said that I would be working until the 31st (I did not specify of which month) and that I would then be off until the 4th] As I run everything past my father first, it was SO hard not to tell him I was coming, not to ask him questions about my flight, about my changeover at CDG, Paris.

 

I finished work on the 30th.  I went home, collected my sister and then went into Birmingham to collect Shaun.  We went for dinner at a Tapas bar, which was awesome (the sangria was just so much yummier because I had the two people I loved most in the world there with me). We eventually ended up at home around 23h00.  I decided that I had better pack for my trip home.  02h00 arrived and we thought it best that we all get to bed before our 06h00 start on the 31st.  At 07h00, Shaun’s mother phoned.  It was 09h00 in South Africa.  I got excited.

 

At 09h00, Hilary arrived to take us to Birmingham airport.  By midday, I had barely made my flight (let me give you the picture of me with my hand luggage, my coat and scarf and my tickets, running.  Arms flailing.  Sweat pouring.  Heavy breathing.  Need I say more?)  As I got to the gate, the lady said: ‘Miss Tolmie, I presume?’ I sheepishly smiled and nodded (mostly because I could not talk due to the lack of breathe).  She turned to the phone, picked it up, said her name and followed this with a: ‘cancel that announcement’.  Oops.  I hurried to catch the plane.  Last to board (I always hate those people, don’t you?)

 

The flight was uneventful to CDG.  We landed a staggering half hour early. I wandered around the airport (well, I would use the term ‘paced’, as it was merely a long corridor with expensive shops on one side and the gates on the other).  I waited for my flight to Johannesburg for hours.  A few random strangers made conversation with me (I really don’t think I’m the kind of person who looks approachable… but, boy, when these people get started… ) when finally, the gates opened, I knew not only their life histories, why they are visiting/living in South Africa, what they like and dislike about the country, how old their children are but also intricate details such as financial status (trust me, the list is endless).  I tried to smile and nod for a lot of the stuff, but people (particularly people going on holiday) don’t seem to understand.  I finally made it to the front of the queue when the people who were talking asked me when I was coming back.  I said the end of the month.  They got so excited.  ‘When, when’, they said.  I said the 30th.  The wind out of their sails, they were returning the 29th.  The gentleman turned to his wife and said: ‘it’s such a pity, it would have been nice to fly back with her’… I smiled awkwardly.  We boarded the plane.  I was praying we would not be seated near each other.  I followed them halfway down the plane, knowing I was sat at the back.  They spotted their seats.  I felt relief.  They said they would see me in-flight.  I smiled and moved down the plane to my seat.

 

Next to me were a nice French couple who decided I looked approachable.  Ten hours, approachable.  I was NOT approachable.  I used closed questions and finally, when there was a gap, got out my headphones.  I like talking.  I just don’t like talking that much.

 

By the time the sun was coming up, we were over Zimbabwe.  

I was so excited.  We were going to be landing early (by an hour).

 

I finally got off the plane at 06h00.  I went to collect my baggage and found that it was missing.  I went to the Air France counter and the gentleman behind the desk phoned to find out where it was.  To cut a LONG story short, some old lady had taken mine instead of hers.  The gentleman said that he had her bag and that she had mine, but she argued the point, stating that her bag was in the boot of her car.  The gentleman described the suitcase to her, but she still did not believe him.  After about 30 minutes, he had managed to convince her that she did in fact have my suitcase.  About an hour later, I left customs with my suitcase (having been scolded by the lady who said that I should have had more distinguishable features on my suitcase…)

 

I decided that after all that hassle, I would go for a coffee, where I would wait for my mother.  I went to Mugg & Bean, where I was served (in slow motion) my rooibos tea and water.  As I watched the crowds and sipped my tea, I heard my name called by a man.  I thought I was hearing things, so ignored it.  I heard my name again.  I looked around.  Approaching me was none other than Morris.  Now, Morris was a manager at a Mugg & Bean in my home town.  I had a long conversation with him, which was interrupted by the sighting of a rather familiar looking individual.

my mommy!!!!

 

We spotted each other.  Smiles stopped from wrapping around our heads by our ears.  My mother rushed toward me.  I stood up.  My mum got closer, it was nearly time for a hug, for my hug. There was only one thing in the way.  A man on crutches.  We tried to dodge him.  The dramatic reunion music paused as the man moved one crutch after the other. I felt a sudden urge to push him.  I had to wait.  I had waited nearly two years.  FINALLY, he moved out of the way.  Mum and I rushed into each other’s arms in slow motion, as the dramatic music climaxed.  I paid the bill and we went for coffee (which turned into lunch) at East Rand Mall.

 

Eventually, we headed home to surprise my dad.  We pulled into the driveway.  My mum phoned my dad to come and let her in.  He put his head over the gate to see that everything was safe and that was when our eyes met.  I smiled and said, ‘hello daddy’.  He looked amazed and asked me what I was doing there… This holiday was going to be fantastic!

 

I planned to let everyone know I was there in my second week, so that I could sleep in, catch up with my folks, and just exist as I did.  Unfortunately, all the best made plans…

 

Not even in the country for three full days, my South African phone beeped.  Who knew I was here and how did they get this number?  It turned out that Sherelyn had let it slip at last.  My secret was out.  That Thursday onwards, I was fully booked until the night before I left for home (yes, you read correctly, home.  I have a home in each hemisphere – which makes catching a plane and leaving home for home a lot easier than leaving home for the unknown). 

 

I did not manage to see everyone, much to my chagrin.  I did manage to spend a lot of time with my mum (as my dad was working most of the time).  I absolutely loved being there and recapturing my relationship with my mother. 

 

By the time my holiday had come to an end, I had come to the following conclusions:

• Africa sucks
• People are really REALLY highly strung and stressed
• It is way more dangerous than before I left two years ago
• There are more people running across roads
• I hate the weather (both the summer and winter I experienced in the month of November).
• There are more reckless drivers
• I definitely made the right decision to emigrate to England
• Whilst there are aesthetic changes to the country, it remains essentially the same (and those changes will not be maintained)
• Nothing changes
• Wimpy coffee is not as good as I remember (perhaps it was the company that made it good in the first place) – nor is their mustard (sadly).
• Banks rip you off
• Eskom needs some stiff competition
• I don’t like the South African bugs!!

View Full Album

 

and on a positive note:

• I had not realised just how much I had missed my friends
• I need to see my mum and dad far more regularly
• How much I LOVE Gerti’s chicken Mayonnaise Tremazzini and her pancakes!
• How much I missed going out when I felt like it
• How much I really LOVE having tea with friends and family

 

One month went by before I knew it.  I had completed my list of things I wanted to do in South Africa, people I wanted to see and food I wanted to eat.  I was satisfied and ready to go home.

 

I had landed in South Africa, with 19.9kg of luggage (of which, two pairs of trousers, six shirts, seven pairs of undies and a pair of shoes were mine.  The rest were presents!) and left with 23kg (of which, almost everything was mine and Sherelyn’s clothing!) I went through the x-ray machines without removing shoes, coats, belts (or even my liquid stuff from my luggage).  I sauntered through passport control (ok, mum, then I had to saunter back to give you the mobile back :0) and then saunter through AGAIN).  I boarded the plane to come home to the UK after a good hour had passed (and I had watched several late passengers for another flight).  I found my seat and got comfortable.  Next to me was an elderly gentleman (who fell asleep as the plane started moving and woke only for food.  At one point, I thought he had died, as he fell forward and hit his head against the seat in front of him and then fell to the side without stirring…).  As we were taxiing, an announcement rang out: *ding* ‘in accordance with governmental policy, we shall now spray the plane with insecticide’. *ding*

 

Only in Africa…

Two more weeks fly by...

Where on earth does the time go?

I can recall sitting down this time last year, typing blogs about my
first visit to my favourite client, about how happy I was being here.
I complained about everyone being in South Africa (most particularly,
Shaun) and me being alone.

Shortly after that, I was reminded of how quickly things can change.
The comfy rug I had established was swiftly pulled out from under me,
when my client went into hospital on the brink of death, and I was
launched back into the whirlpool of clients who I detested.
Thankfully, my client recovered. One year later, I am back in their
home with some marked improvements. Shaun now lives 100 miles away
from me, Sherelyn lives with me in our flat and I am in a much happier
place. Things are going well.

In the last two weeks, I have had several meetings with
physiotherapists, occupational therapist, doctors, distict nurses and
the like. My fun was briefly interrupted by a rather more pleasant
visit from Shaun on the weekend (who spent Friday night and Saturday
night with me). Sunday saw him disappear home and me feeling quite
alone and rather sad (everyone say aaaah). This week, however, was one
I would rather forget. I had a series of incompetent carers, a
migraine, tight muscles, hardly any sleep, several headaches and one
blocked catheter and more meetings.

Despite all that 'fun' <she says with a grimace>, I am still loving
being here (I suppose that is why I'm booked to with this client until
they end of the year!) I am still improving my skills on a daily basis
and am due to be assessed throughout November and December.

Speaking of the end of the year, do you have any suggestions as to
what Shaun, Sherelyn, Korneel and I should do for our British, South
African, Dutch New Year?

I just don't know how they do it...

This post skips nearly an entire month, and for that I sincerely
apologise. I'm sure you are aware that this last month has been
absolutely hectic (what with Shaun arriving, me working and all the
other stuff in between). Whilst I realise that many of you are rather
keen to know what has happened this last month, I have just not had
the time to sit down and type it all out. Actually, that's a lie. I
started typing it all, but found that each time I began to discuss
everything it became increasingly difficult to convey precisely what I
have felt having all the pieces suddenly fall into place and have the
chess game in play. What I will tell you is that I am much happier now.

As I type this, I am stretched out on a bed, pj's on, television
mumbling in the background. I am at work. I am waiting for Shaun to
text me his train journey information. I can't tell you how happy that
makes me feel (that I have such silly complaints about the man who now
lives 100 miles away from me).

I have had an argument with my laptop, which has meant that I now have
to post from my phone (which explains the rubbish layout of this
post!) Perhaps this will encourage me to post a little more
frequently... Perhaps I too will become a more frequent blogger...
Perhaps it will rain gumballs...

I’m back with a vengeance!

(…all hail wireless internet connections…)

It’s been so very long since my last update, that I must extend my deepest apologies... I have been to three different clients and had a VERY tough time with each (including the lack of internet, which was I fear, the most depressing part of the ordeal!) So much has happened that it is just impossible to tell you everything, so I shall do my best to give you the highlights!

 

The first client I went to was based in London, in the Isle of Dogs.  Now, I have always wanted to go to the Isle of Dogs, just to say that I have been there.  Well, I HAVE BEEN THERE!!!!! I was briefed about his case and told that he required two PA’s. I felt the excitement rise within me, as it had been such a long time since I last worked with another PA.  This meant that I would have some time off, that I would be able to communicate with someone who is going through the same things as I am and that I could re-group (so to speak).  I took the train into London, followed by the underground.  Let’s stop there for a minute.  I just LOVE taking the tube.  It always amuses me.  For those of you who have never had the fortune of travelling on these underground trains (although, most of the rail is above ground – that’s another lesson I’m afraid!), let me explain. 

 

The tube is a rapid transit system for people to use when travelling within London and the surrounding areas.  It consists of eleven main lines (I’m sure you’ve heard of the Circle line, the District line, the Northern line and the Hammersmith and City line) and ferries approximately 3.4 million people per day (averaged from the people it carries per year…) – thank goodness for public transport… can you imagine all these people driving?  Anyway, there are trains departing every four minutes or so for the same destination (I’m sure you know what I mean –> one circle line train arrives/departs every four minutes, same for district line, same for northern line etc).  This means that if you miss the train, you can catch another train to the same destination in exactly 3 minutes and 59 seconds (or 4 minutes and 3 seconds if there is a delay <tee hee>).

 

I love arriving at the tube, putting my suitcase down and looking around me.  There is ALWAYS one individual who will come flying down the stairs (the whites of their eyes bulging, coat flailing in the mass panic and hair ruffled), see the train doors shutting, and make a dart for the nearest carriage.  Now, I know that the doors are unforgiving, and once they close, the train moves off to the next destination… I always look up at the board which states when the next train is due, and smile.  The tube arrives, and crowds pour in and out.  I generally get swept up into the carriage (minding the gap) by the crowd.  I then brace myself for our take-off (which is rather literal, I’m afraid!) That’s when the urge strikes me most.  I look at the people on the train (who NEVER look back).  I just want to break out into song or kiss the person next to me, just to see what would happen…  No sooner have you stepped onto the tube, is it at an end (and I have yet to pull some random move on an unsuspecting individual…)

 

Okay, enough of a diversion, let’s get back to my story.

  

After the tube journey, I climbed on board the DLR which took me to Canary Wharf.  It was long, but fun.  Unfortunately, that is where it ended.  I managed to find the clients home, ring the doorbell, introduce myself to the client, get the client water and still NOT meet the PA handing over to me.  The house was an absolute pigsty.  The PA who I was to be working with had no concept of hygiene and was exceptionally lazy (so much for working with someone).  Let me give you a few highlights, shall I?

 

The day I arrived at the client’s home, I was not given a handover as the other PA was anxious to catch her flight to Spain (but did manage to say ‘GOOD LUCK’ as she left – I should have known…) I introduced myself to the client who immediately threw me into work (explaining how sick and tired he felt). I took it all in my stride (smile and nod, smile and nod). The other PA (who I would be working with) told me (in his broken English – oh veih!) that it was the clients’ birthday and that I would be going with him to work and then out to celebrate (even though my client was feeling ill). I thought this a little strange, but again, took this in my stride, as ‘the client knows best’.

 

Around 15h40 the client ventured out to work (and to my surprise, he worked at a very notable news network company). I felt that excitement creeping back up again. We arrived at his desk when we were asked to go to the kitchen (as some people in the office had clubbed together to buy a cake). My client said to wait ten minutes as he was busy finishing off an important email. The gentleman accepted this and left. Twenty minutes later, he returned and asked my client, again, to please accompany him to the kitchen. My client told him in no uncertain terms that he was not going to the kitchen and would not consider doing so, so if they wanted to celebrate his birthday, they were to do so at his desk.  The gentleman looked from me to the client and back as he was being reprimanded.  I felt myself shrinking as his forked tongue continued on.

 

The gentleman left and, to my surprise, returned with cake in hand and friends in toe. I admired the perseverance.  They all gathered around my clients desk and began singing ‘happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…’ My client:  continued to work (dictating to his computer). I shrank back into my seat and smiled awkwardly.

 

After work, my client went to the pub. To cut a long story short - by the end of the day, I had walked back to the clients house (20 minutes away), retrieved a manual wheelchair, a mobile hoist, a sling and various paraphernalia necessary to hoist the client from his electric wheelchair to his manual wheelchair at the PUB (as he felt unable to drive home and did not trust either of his two PA’s to drive him home). Everyone stared.  You must at this point imagine wheeling a crane (which requires a rather large turning circle) into a small crowded pub, into the furthermost corner. I was not impressed.  His friends were all trying to help (again, imagine giving a running car to a bunch of children…) The scene was one of total chaos.  The only good thing that came from it was a business card from a Paralympics organiser (who was under the impression that moving and handling people with high-level spinal injuries was as easy as 1-2-3).  We caught a black cab home and then the fun began.

 

That night, the next day and night I spent awake. I called in a million different district nurses and several incompetent doctors. I had taken my clients blood pressure, temperature, breathes per minute, urine output and fluid intake every two hours. I was shattered. The other PA was well rested and underfoot at every opportunity. We called the emergency services who told us that my client was not high on the priority list (at this point, please understand that urine input was approximately four litres, output was 40ml in over six-ten hours, the clients BP was high, his temperature was a good old 39 degrees Celsius… but he was not high on the priority list!) Needless to say, I finally convinced is brother (who is a medical student) that we needed to rush him in to A&E on my third day there (where we were told that he had a severe infection and was dehydrated – I hesitate to add ‘I told you so’ to the end of that). The next week was spent in the Royal London Hospital. I was on night shift (for which I was rather grateful – as this meant he was asleep most of the time).  During his waking hours, my client phoned pretty much everyone he knew and told them that he had nearly died from multiple organ failure and septicaemia.  I did not have enough energy to sigh, but I could probably have had a go at suffocation (if only it was legal)… After his stint in hospital, my client went home. He spent a day recovering (ordering me to empty his leg bag every ten minutes – and no, I’m not joking), then went back to work. By this stage, I had had enough of the other PA’s nonsense. I had had enough of the client. I was beyond tired. I had just had enough.  Luckily, the assignment came to an end.

 

Now for the two MAIN highlights of my stint in London.

 

Highlight one:

I got to see my DADDY, who was there for a conference (coincidentally right around the corner from the Royal London Hospital).  I was working the night shift with this client (as i said), so was lucky enough to be off an entire day and spend it with him.  I really LOVED every minute.  For those of you who know both of us, you can imagine the conversation (uh-huh’s and mmm-hmm’s and an hour later we were all caught up!) Not that that stopped us spending the day together.  I regaled stories about Sherelyn’s recent arrival (with stories such as her drinking two litres of concentrated orange squash and commenting that she ‘thought it was a bit strong’… and her multitude of walks into Kings Heath to use the internet for an hour in the public library).  Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and it saw us part company at the tube station.  This was the hardest part for me (harder than leaving home the first time round). I hugged him goodbye, but did not want to let go.  I could feel my heart in my throat, aching.  The tube ride back was lonely.  I had no spontaneous urges. I was sad and alone among strangers.

 

Highlight two:

I now have a bean-to-cup coffee machine (I swear, it IS a necessity!)

 

Following this exciting assignment, I had three days rest and was sent back to Lincolnshire. When I say rest, I mean, paying bills, catching up on groceries, visiting Tony in hospital, running around like a headless chicken, cleaning my flat (you get the gist of it...)

 

So, Lincolnshire...

 

If you remember, I had just been there on emergency assignment (called out just after, but whilst still at, Blakesley Hall in Birmingham).  Anyway, I arrived at the client ready to roll. I walked in and greeted the client.  Before he greeted me, he said that in the time I was there, they would be moving home (and that they waited for me to come back before they did so because: ‘we could not see ourselves doing it with any other PA…’).  When I say my heart fell into my shoes, I am not kidding.  I looked around me and NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING had begun being packed into boxes (who do you think they were expecting was going to be given that honour?)

 

I fell into the routine immediately (as the PA prior to me had neglected some of the ‘jobs’ we were tasked with).  The clients partner had taught me the last time I was there what she expected, and whilst it was excessive, it was just about do-able. The third day I was there, at 08h30, the clients partner walked into the kitchen and asked me if I had done the morning cleaning. I said I had. She proceeded to wipe her finger over the cooker hood, the ledge on the fridge/freezer ice dispenser and move the dogs beds and then tell me that ‘it did not look like it’.  Now, any of you that know me, know that my reaction was of cool, calm, collectedness.  I listened as she ‘told me off’ (as the English like to say).  I could not stop myself laughing aloud as I asked her if she was kidding (in that rather sarcastic, serious tone). She began to yell at me, saying that she couldn’t deal with my *nonsense* (in some choice vocabulary) and stormed out the room to get my twenty year old client. My client came in and after much ranting and raving and reprimanding, gave me an ultimatum.  Either I do the cleaning their way OR I leave. You can guess which option I was going to take. I took two hours to cool down enough to be able to calmly and logically phone Active to tell them what had happened and that I was seriously considering leaving. I said that I would do them a favour and stay for my assignment, but that they had better sort this nonsense out (…what a sucker am I, huh??? what are the chances they are going to have resolved any of it???…) It may sound like I’m being silly whistle blowing, but let me tell you what I had already done that day:

• Swept the kitchen floor
• Disinfected the kitchen floor
• Disinfected the kitchen counters
• Buffed the kitchen counters
• Wiped down and buffed the appliances
• Disinfected the cupboards and buffed them
• Cleaned up the dogs wee, put down another inko pad
• Vacuumed the house (guest room, study, hall, their room, walk in closet, my room)
• Washed the bathroom floor
• Disinfected the bath, basin and shower
• Cleaned the toilet
• Done the ironing
• Completed clients morning routine
• Put on a load of washing
• Hung out a load of washing
• Put on a load of towels in the dryer
• Folded a set of towels from the dryer

And then, to be told that I am lazy...

 

The day before this, I had performed the same routine (the only difference was that that afternoon, I accompanied the client to their new home and had dusted, polished, vacuumed ten different rooms and washed all outside window ledges).

 

LAZY.

 

Needless to say, I had two weeks of HELL. The clients partner made me do so much cleaning that I could not remember what sitting down felt like until I collapsed into bed at night. I can’t tell you how ridiculously insignificant and useless I felt as a glorified maid.

 

The beginning of the second week saw me phone Shaun’s soon-to-be boss on Shaun’s behalf.  I sent him an email asking when it would be convenient to call him, and proceeded to do so at the arranged time the following day.  I don’t think he saw me coming.  By the end of the conversation, there was a plan of action in place, I had relieved some of my frustration and it seemed that things would finally start to sort themselves out.  We planned a meeting for the following week.  This brought me some much needed happiness. 

 

Near the end of my assignment, I helped the client move home. It was extremely HARD work (considering that I did most of it, and still did all the cleaning and assisting the client). I was so relieved when we got to the new house because the floors were covered in boxes and so did not require too much attention.  As all this had not been enough, they then proceeded to get me to build a dog run (‘as this is what the client would do for me if he were able bodied…’)  I was exhausted.  I was angry.  I felt useless and hopeless.  I decided that I needed some time off.

 

The Friday before my assignment ended, I received a phone call from Active.  They informed me that I would be spending one night at home and then travel to London to the RNOH (Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital) where I would be staying for a week and then moving with the client into their new flat for two weeks.  I was miffed.

 

I’m such a sucker.

 

I left this assignment on the Monday at 14h30, arrived home at 17h00. I read my email and was told that Shaun had received the letter necessary for him to apply for his visa. I so desperately wanted my sister to be home so that I could get excited with someone. I cooked dinner, put some music on and ate. I burst into tears. All the stress, anger, frustration and emotion poured out of my soul. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. I thought how stupid I must have looked, how silly I sound when I cry... I thought about my tears, I analysed why I cried. I so wished someone could give me a hug. I became excited when I received a text message from my mother asking if she could phone. I was excited. I spoke to her for ages, I was so grateful for the contact. I spoke to her and my father for ages. I drove whilst I spoke (and whilst my TomTom directed me), I spoke all the way to the ward to see Tony. I thoroughly enjoyed it and I did not want to say goodbye. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. I said bye and then went in to see Hilary and Tony. I left the hospital at 21h30 and picked up the phone to call Shaun. I was reminded not to take anyone for granted. I began my drive home. Nearing home, I had the urge to eat MacDonald's... (yes, dad, round is a shape...and you will be glad to hear that I’m winning the battle against anorexia!) I said goodbye to Shaun when I got to the drive thru. I ordered my cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake and at it. Shaun phone me back and accompanied me all the way back home and into bed. It was just what I needed.

 

Tuesday morning arrived. It was pouring with rain. I ordered a taxi for 09h00 and ran a bath. I got in the bath and SOAKED. It was deliciously awesome. I caught my taxi to the train station and several trains and busses later was at the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital in London.

 

To say that my first week sucked, is an understatement.  I was receiving handover from a group of nurses and assistants who were so fond of the client (him having been in the hospital for nearly a year) that they saw me as a threat, as someone taking a family member from them. I hesitate to say I felt as though I was the Grim Reaper in the flesh…  They were hard work. 

 

Although, it was not all doom and gloom, this is where I shall start.

 

My first night at the hospital was spent in communal lodgings, called the ‘Kitchen Block’ (named as such because it was above a restaurant – how original).  It was nice.  Just a bed in a room with a basin and cupboard, overlooking the hospital gardens.  My second night was spent with the client  in the Graham Hill Unit (which is a mock-home, imitating what it would be like at home).  The following six nights were spent in a communal block called Eastgate House.  It was AWFUL.  It smelled damp, it was kitted out in hospital linen (the standard blanket and sheet), and it was growing (I shan’t elaborate any more than that).  It did NOT have double glazing, nor was it heated.  I spent the first night there shivering, hopping in and out of bed gradually putting more clothes on (you can just imagine what I looked like).  A few nights passed and I thought it would be a good idea to start off with all my clothes on.  I zipped up my coat and hopped into bed.  A few hours later, I was awoken by a profuse quantity of sweat… Turns out this was not the way to do it.  To top off all the poor sleep I was getting, there was not a shop nearby, nor was there any food available to me.  I got grumpier and grumpier as the days passed (Mum would tell you it was because I was not eating, I’m not so sure).  In addition to this, my client barely spoke to me (only because he was severely influenced by the staff around him).  However, in my usual fashion, my last days there were spent helping myself to food on the ward, helping myself to blankets and ignoring staff when it suited me (with the usual smiling and nodding).

 

As for the highlight in this first week…

 

I met a guy in the hospital, Dave, who did all the stunts for Daniel Radcliffe (whom you all know to be Harry Potter), and his girlfriend, Gemma, who was the body-double for Luna Lovegood.  The Friday before my client went home, we went to a private screening (at Warner Brothers, in London) of the new Harry Potter Movie (which was released late the following week).  To say it was awesome would be to overrate the film, but to underrate the experience.  There was an open bar, a small cinema and a guard with night vision goggles… it was rather cool, if I say so myself.

 

The following two weeks flew by.  I set the client up at home.  It was REALLY rewarding.  I helped his progress, I helped him flourish, I helped him cope.  I enjoyed it more than I had thought I would.  He inspired me, reminded me why I love my job.  He had a very strong social support network, so I was really only needed in the morning and at night (I use the term ‘night’ loosely, but I could not say: ‘I was really only needed in the morning and again in the morning’, could I?).  This meant that I was left with a lot of free time, to do with as I pleased.  I visited St Paul’s Cathedral, the local coffee shops, Leather Lane (a market street), Exmouth Market (another market street), Paperchase (a stationery shop – well, one of the largest stationery shops in the UK!!!!), several clothing shops and only ever bought coffee… It was rather nice.  The client allowed me to have my own routine.  I started to feel alive again.  Our evenings were spent separately, him with his friends, me with my NVQ.  Occasionally, my hard work was interrupted by the fire alarms (each alarm was linked throughout the house), which was so sensitive, it went off when a slice of toast was made (NOTE: a naturally sensitive smoke alarm with a heat sensor, above the cooker, is not a good idea.  This idea worsens when it is linked to each sensor in every room of the house.  These two facts combined with a group of teenagers who consistently get the munchies at 03h00 whilst you are asleep is potentially life threatening). 

 

This problem was slightly overcome, by the group one evening, following the continuous sounding of the alarm as they cooked.  Can you spot the potential problem? 

 

Yes, you’re right, my client was down one pair of socks to wear.

 

I found myself able to let go, to relax and gain some perspective…

 

…UNTIL…

 

Shaun phone me one evening to let me know that he would be flying to the United Kingdom on 16 August, and landing in Birmingham on the 17th.  He asked what I would be doing around then…  Relaxation over, perspective gone, stress up, excitement riding in.  I hung up the phone and rang my sister and my parents to let them know.  It was all too surreal.  The last few days in London went by in a flurry.  I left London and headed back home for a few nights. 

 

Sherelyn suggested I catch the buses home from the station, instead of the taxi I was planning on catching.  She said that it had been drizzling lightly the whole morning, so I would be safe enough.  I took her advice.  We planned that she would meet me at the bus stop and walk home with me.  By the time I stepped off the bus closest to home, the heavens had opened and we experienced Sherelyn’s version of drizzle.  My version: torrential drizzle…  It was ridiculous.  We got to the flat soaked (even though Sherelyn had come very well prepared to the bus stop – umbrellas, dry macs for my suitcase… rather suspicious for someone who said it was drizzling lightly).  We had planned to go out shopping, but resorted to Chinese take away and a few glasses of wine in the flat with music and constant chatter.  We got into bed the next morning (having planned to go into Birmingham before I went to Biggleswade to meet Shaun's boss).  Needless to say, this was called off when the alarm clock buzzed four hours into our sleep.

 

I eventually got out of bed and dressed to go and meet Shaun’s boss.  One hundred miles later, I had arrived (in the pouring rain) and was hurried into a four-hour meeting.  It was nice.  Sherelyn had, in the meantime, left for her first client.  The following days at home were spent keeping busy (so busy that I did not have time to think about Shaun’s imminent arrival).  They were a blur of dinners out, visits to hospital and shopping for nothing.

 

I left for my current location by car (which took me an hour to find, not because I went wrong, but because they live on a little country lane with one entrance, in Tamworth).  I walked through the door to find that once again, I was not to receive handover.  I was miffed.  The client does not and has not spoken to me (his age does not allow for this… teenagers… <sigh> )Although, this has not been detrimental at all, as I have been VERY productive.  He has required very little attention, which has meant I have managed to complete all eight modules of my NVQ (and submitted them all at once, just for a laugh), and arranged my life (…again…)

 

Now, I find myself constantly thinking: ‘this time next week… six days to go… five days to go… four days to go…’ I’m driving myself scatty.

 

Smile and nod.

Never Fear...

Hello all my loyal fans!!!

This note is to let you all know that I know (that you know that I know) I have not updated my blog in a LOOOOOONG while. I have been with two clients that have been in poor signal areas, and have thus been unable to update...

Never fear, there is an update on its way as soon as I get a minute to myself!!!

As I type this blog, I am sitting on a brown carpet in a five bedroom bungalow in Lincolnshire. In fact, I’m even more secluded than that. I am sitting on a brown carpet, in a five bedroom bungalow in Little Steeping, in Lincolnshire. For those of you who have no idea where Lincolnshire is, let alone Little Steeping, do not fear, you are NOT alone. This little town (for want of a smaller description of it) is a good fifteen minutes drive from the nearest shop and about thirty minutes drive from the nearest train station (which, in case you are wondering, is in Skegness)…

Now that you know where I am, let me tell you the story of how I came to end up here.

It all began one overcast Friday morning (well, I’m not precisely sure of the weather, but I’ll bet overcast was a good guess!) when I had finished paying all my bills and making the necessary phone calls. I had packed my suitcase and headed, from Hilary’s, home. I buzzed for Sherelyn to let me in and climbed the stairs (okay, okay, there are only 32 of them in total, but it is hard work, and that’s what I’m sticking to!) I laughed as I reached into my bag and pulled out a shirt and a frozen chunck of minced beef (Mary Poppins eat your heart out!) Sherelyn looked at me and made a comment about how she never thought it possible that I could keep bringing new stuff into the house. I had to explain, that once again, Hilary had given me the meat (I’m not in the habit of storing the frozen food section next to my clothing, I assure you). Laughter over, we discussed our plans for the rest of the day. Sherelyn mentioned that Lionel would be joining us for the weekend (luckily, thanks to my new bed, he would have somewhere to sleep – he would have nothing to sleep under, mind you!)

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This is where the moaning starts, so if you are not too interested, I would skip the next few paragraphs and pick it up from the next set of stars…
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I asked when he would be joining us so that I could make plans – things to do, food, places to sleep, financial arrangements etc. and in typical Sherelyn fashion, she said ‘I don’t know exactly’. A short while later we got a phone call to say that he was not going to be able to make it as he had some arrangements with friends. Sherelyn and I then modified our plans to include going to Tesco after dark to experience the vast pleins of the night time shop (along with that awful piped music that makes you feel as though something is about to happen). We lazed about the house, watching the Bone Collector and (I’m sad to say) nibbled on chocolate. The movie ended and we came back to life. We began to prepare ourselves for the night shop when the phone rang. Sherelyn finished on the phone (21h30) and informed me that Lionel was now able to drive from Bedford to come and spend the weekend, as his plans had fallen through. By this stage, I could care less (as you can no doubt imagine!)

So, I did what any normal 24 year old would do.

I phoned Shaun to shout at him.

After the phone call (which was not nearly as bad as it sounds – I think), it was 23h00. Shopping out the window. No sign of Lionel. Sherelyn not concerned. I began watching an episode of the Big Bang Theory when low and behold, who should arrive… such timing, such timing!!! I played nice (well as nice as I could be, being tired and feeling rather used) and we all sat up talking/listening to music/watching Family Guy until 03h00.

My body clock decided that 10h00 was as good a time as any to be awake, so I obliged. I got up, tip-toed through the lounge, put the kettle on and made tea. Whilst my tea cooled, I went to the bathroom to wash. Once done, I collected my tea from the kitchen and went to my room (again, tip-toeing through the lounge). I got into my room to find my bed talking. No body in sight, just a lump in the bed. The voices giggled and told me that they left room in the bed for me too. Then one voice said that my bed was far warmer than the air bed. This little piggy was not impressed (I contemplated the line ‘and the little one said…’ but thought otherwise). Sighing, I grabbed my clothes and headed back to the bathroom to get dressed. By the time I was done, they appeared to have figured out that I was not too impressed and had moved onto the airbed in the lounge. I made nice, enquired if they needed anything from the shops and then left.

I hit Tesco at 11h00. It was AWFUL, it was absolute chaos. I hate shopping. I hate crowds. I did my shopping and headed back home as quick as I could. I dragged my heels as I walked up the stairs and down the hall toward the front door. As I opened the door, I put my angry eyes in my bum and did a lot of smiling and nodding…

By 13h30 Lionel and Sherelyn had decided to take Lionel’s car instead of public transport (my thinking was that if we went via public transport we could stay as long as we liked and have a merry old time). We hurried out (as we were running late) and piled into Lionel’s car for Birmingham New Street to the Birmingham Gay Pride festival. We eventually found parking and walked to New Street (where the parade would be starting from). Naturally, I got us a little bit lost, but with the help of my trusty iPhone and the useful little google maps tool we arrived in time for the start of the parade. We followed it down one of the alleys, where we stopped to take photos as they paraded past. I could not help but think how much Peter John would have enjoyed the days’ festivities. Once the parade had passed, we went to forage for lunch at Subway (now, in my books, everyone should try Subway at least once when they are here!). Sherelyn seemed to enjoy the food. We finished eating and headed for the car. On our walk to the car, I took us through the street market (Sherelyn would have liked to stay longer to look around, but because we had brought the car, we were unable to stay past our three hour slot – can you hear the phrase ‘I told you so?’ or can you hear the meowing????). We arrived back home, where Lionel had an afternoon nap whilst Sherelyn and I walked down to the shops to get something for dinner (what is with South Africans and afternoon naps??).

We got back to the flat where Sherelyn disappeared and I was left to make dinner. One pot of Nachos later and an apple crumble and custard eaten we were ready for a movie. It was nice to sit next to my big sister watching a movie (funny the things you don’t think you will miss). Once the movie was finished, so was I. I headed to bed and plugged my iPod into my ears and vanished into dreamland.

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Sunday arrived at a more reasonable time (10h00). I made some breakfast and we all headed out to Cannon Hill Park for the day (seemed that all the locals had the same idea, as it was the absolute perfect day for it!) We sat in the shade of a tree drinking cups of tea and talking whilst watching the local people go about their activities. I could not help thinking about home and about how much my mother would love to do something as cool as this. After copious amounts of tea, we walked through the park, out the other side and back in again, then headed for home. It was a really nice relaxing day out. We got back in and fiddled with our laptops (well, i played with Lionel’s laptop to see if I could transfer music from the Apple laptop to my external hard drive – which I couldn’t…) Lionel fiddled with the laptops in between my fiddling. Just before it got dark (around 20h30), Lionel left for home. Sherelyn and I had some dinner, got changed and headed out to Wetherspoons just around the corner. The vibe was rather poor, so after consuming our beverages, discussing the crowd and laughing, we headed to the pub down the road from us. The crowd was much livelier (ok, wetherspoons had called last rounds whilst we were there, which could account for the atmosphere – we shall have to force ourselves to go back and try again!). Around 01h00 we were forced to go home by the last round bell…

We got home, tired, excited, talking and yawning. In a daze, we got changed and climbed into bed. It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.

Monday morning was disappointing. The clouds were hanging grey in the sky. As it was Bank holiday, our choices as to what to do were rather limited. I climbed out of bed, and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on and start breakfast. Sherelyn had ordered eggs and soldiers, so I placed our HUGE pot on the stove and began the boiling egg process. Needless to say, she knew better and began shouting at me telling me how to boil an egg (yes, you read right, HOW TO BOIL AN EGG!). My Saturday frustrations raged inside me and I lost my rag with her, telling her to PLEASE leave the kitchen. Once breakfast was made, I gave her hers and ate mine. I cleaned up and went to get dressed. By this stage, I had cooled down and said that I was being daft. Unfortunately, Sherelyn decided to keep up her sulking for an hour more. Once we had both had our tiffs we were friends again and headed out to Blakesley Hall, a victorian house owned by Birmingham City Council. It was a lovely day out (even with the miserable weather!) Around 15h45 my phone rang and in the blink of an eye, my holiday was over.

I was given a client in, you guessed it, Lincolnshire and asked if I could get there that night. I laughed. I was told that I could catch the 16h15 or the 17h15 train (the last train there) and be at Skegness at 20h55, where I would have to phone a local taxi company to collect me and £20 later I would be at my clients home. I laughed again. Firstly, I was out and had to go to Hilary’s to get some bags and some pots. Secondly, I had to get some fuel. Thirdly, I had to get home to pack. Fourthly, I had to have something to eat. Lastly, I had to plan my journey. All this in the space of thirty minutes… I laughed again… I then said that I would prefer to drive there. This time it was her turn to laugh (in relief though). Then, to my disgust, she said that she would make sure the company completely covers my travel expenses to and from the client…

By 17h30, I was on the road to Lincolnshire and three hours later, I was in Little Steeping.

Grab a cup of Coffee and let’s begin

This last week has been go, go, go...

On Monday, I signed the lease to my new flat. I measured all the windows and rooms and went to Hilary’s for dinner. I was feeling rather nervous, scared and apprehensive about what was to come.

Tuesday morning saw me disinfecting the flat (only because I would prefer to live in a place where I know when the last time was it was cleaned properly – not because I would EVER live in a flat that needed that much hard work!) On Tuesday afternoon, I went shopping for bits and bobs, collected all the stuff friends had kindly donated and went to furnish the flat. I arrived back at Hilary’s with a full dinner awaiting my arrival (and boy was I grateful!). We sat down to dinner and chatted about everything, and how it was all about to change. I discussed just how quickly time passes, and that before long it would be Christmas!

Wednesday saw me doing some more shopping and some more furnishing. During my mornings shopping, I had bought an airbed - for the interim (as my double bed was only being delivered on Wednesday the following week), which needed to be pumped up. I took the air mattress out of its bag and lay it on the floor, as per instructions. I removed my shoes and began pumping it up using my foot (as it said to). Unfortunately, for every ten pumps I was doing, it was going up one. My leg started to ache, so I switched to the other one, and when that one started to get sore (having exhausted both limbs), I practiced my CPR skills on the pump (thirty compressions, two breathes…). Now you can imagine just how much I was cursing the airbed as I pumped. Around twenty minutes later, I decided to give up (I have such perseverance, don’t you think?) I looked at the instructions again and was confident that I had followed them precisely. As I started clearing and preparing myself for the journey back to the shop, I picked up the repair kit and looked at it. I thought it was a little odd that it had big plastic bits in it, so I opened the sealed plastic bag. I fiddled with the plastic bit (which appeared to be a one-way valve) and thought that it was perhaps meant for the pump. So, naturally, I placed the one-way valve into the hole over the pump.  It fitted perfectly.  I began pumping again. Still no result. By this stage, I had removed my socks and my jacket and was sweating and using some choice vocabulary. I even resorted to verbal threats to the bed about how if it did not blow up it was going back to the shop it came from… I changed from hand pumping back to foot pumping (having nearly expired from the CPR), when I noticed that there was air flowing out over my other foot. I bent down to see where the air was coming from (quite grateful for a repair kit), when I found the quick release hole in the mattress.  OPEN.  Turns out the one-way valve was for that hole... I felt rather foolish. Seven minutes later, the bed was fully inflated.

 

Exhausted, I cleaned up and headed out. I closed the flat door knowing that the next time I saw it my big sister would be with me. I took a deep breathe and shut the door. Once at Hilary’s place, I had a bath and some dinner whilst I waited for her to get back from Oswestry. After she arrived back, we discussed my plans for the next few days and then I went to bed. I eventually fell asleep around midnight.

 

At 02h30 my alarm went off.

 

I got up, washed, dressed, ate and left for Gatwick airport. On my way down the radio reported a truck having caught fire on the main road to the airport (thank goodness for SatNav... It took a whole minute to recalculate my route!) Before long, I was driving down little country lanes, where I was warned against cows crossing and flooding. Three and a half hours later I arrived at the airport (which should have been two and a half hours). I parked the car and walked to the International arrivals gate. There were no crowds even though three flights were landing (seems as though collecting people off international flights is not an exciting thing to do here...) I waited and waited. Finally the Qatar airlines flight from Doha landed and twenty minutes later Sherelyn walked through the gates.

 

I was so excited, I think she was too. It seemed so surreal to see someone I know at the airport. It was weird to pick up where we left off. It felt as though I had seen her just yesterday.

 

We put her bags in the car and then went back inside for coffee. I took her to Costa coffee. I asked her if she wanted a large coffee, she said yes (I smiled). I walked up to the counter to order a Massimo Americano. She could not understand why we were going to the counter to get the coffee and not just sitting down. I had to explain that you go and place your order and pay before you collect your drink and take it with you to sit down (unlike Africa!). Then, when the coffee arrived, her eyes nearly fell out of her head. Needless to say, she did not finish her cup of coffee! It was so nice to sit and talk to her about familiar things, to watch her excitement about what she had just done and about all that was about to happen. I remembered when I had that feeling. It was so comfortable. Once the coffee was finished, we headed back to the car. We got in and she commented on my choice of snack food (banana, strawberries and pretzels). I set up my SatNav for the journey to Hambleden (where we were meeting Karen for lunch). It was strange having company in the car. I watched her as it dawned on her what she had just done. I watched as she took in the landscape. I watched as she spoke. I felt happy. I felt nervous. I felt fear for her. We drove on and spoke more.

 

We got to Hambleden around 11h30, parked the car and went into the local church so that Sherelyn could take pictures (I remembered when I took photos of everything I saw and liked. I wondered why I stopped). Whilst she took pictures, I phoned Karen to see if she was still working. Fifteen minutes later, all introductions had been made, bags had been moved around, and we were on our way to Henley (well, that is where we ended up). I drove in a BIG circle because Karen’s sense of direction was not so hot (luckily you agree, huh Karen?) we were driving for a while when we came across some civilisation (you must know that for the last ten minutes, we had seen numerous pheasant, guinea fowl, cows, sheep, hare and birds of prey and NOTHING else), so we parked and walked around for a while. I think that if anyone had known that we were three South Africans from the East Rand, they would have been suspicious!

 

We walked through a park, where Sherelyn took more photos. Karen and I reminisced (saying again, that we remember taking that many pictures!) As we walked, Sherelyn was rather quiet. I asked her why and she said that she was rather confused as to what the point was for our walk. Karen and I laughed because this is what we have gotten used to doing (just walking to admire the weather, the water or the green grass!) Sherelyn did not understand why we would want to do this for fun (I remember thinking the same thing – when you can’t go out for walks for fun, to suddenly do so is ridiculous!) On our way back to the car, we decided to go to Henley for lunch at the Catherine Wheel (Wetherspoons). We got in the car, half expecting to get lost, and a few minutes later, landed in Henley for lunch. It was nice to catch up with Karen and Sherelyn. However, around 14h30, the early morning, lack of sleep and excitement caught up with me and I began to fade (naturally, Sherelyn had already faded). I think this rubbed off on Karen resulting in her wanting to go for an afternoon nap!!! We dropped Karen off at home and left for the journey to Birmingham, home.

 

Sherelyn fell asleep as we drove. The car was back to normal. Along the way, I pulled in to a service station (for some coffee and a leg-stretch, as I was beginning to feel tired). We wandered around the service station and then headed for Sainsbury for dinner and fuel. By this time, Sherelyn had had her power nap and was alive and talking again. We got to Sainsbury for fuel (with a lot of questions from Sherelyn about how to do it) and for food (with a lot of upping and downing aisles to see all the shiny stuff). We left with soup and bread in hand and FINALLY headed home. I pulled into the parking bay, and began unpacking. It was REALLY hard work getting all her bags up the stairs, as the one big blue bag kept hitting the back of my knees and forcing them to collapse. I was amazed that I reached the top still intact.

 

I unlocked the door to the flat and let us in. I think it dawned on her just how much of a new beginning this was going to be. She was cold, had none of her familiar stuff and had to learn lots of new things (like what a boiler is and what it does, how gas ovens work etc). I tried to be excited and remind her of all the good things, of all the advantages to being here. I still felt her fear. She had walked down the passage and into the lounge when I stopped her in her tracks and asked her to please remove her shoes. Her expression reminded me that of a deer in the headlights. She began to refuse when I said that we don’t have a vacuum cleaner, nor a broom, which would mean she would be down on her hands and knees cleaning the carpets. I also told her that this was the done thing in England, as it would stop mud being walked into the house (plus this would be a habit and so she would instinctively do this in other peoples’ homes). She removed her shoes rather promptly.

 

We unpacked. I got out our ONE pot and warmed the soup (300ml) in it (it was rather funny – the pot is a fancy non-stick casserole pot – holds about 2.5 litres!!!). We sat in the lounge on our imaginary sofas (i.e.. on the floor) whilst we ate our soup and pita bread. We imagined it to be a Japanese restaurant (but without the correct food, utensils and table). It was funny. We discussed how to make this flat our home, deciding on a theme for each room. We planned what we needed to buy and when to buy it (the list became longer and longer as the discussion went on). It turns out that it is not as easy as everyone says it is having a blank canvas to start decorating. All our serious discussions were interspersed with laughter and debating (mostly as to what we were going to do in our empty lounge). Finally, we decided to clean up and then run a bath.

 

Sherelyn went to start the bath, but soon came in telling me that the water was cold. I went to look, and found that she had the tap on full. I had to explain again that the boiler heats a small amount of water as you need it, and was not capable of heating litres in a minute. I also explained that it uses gas to heat the water – so the more hot water she uses, the more expensive it will be at the end of the month. I also reminded her that she should use electricity sparingly – turn lights off, turn off appliances etc. Eventually, the bath was run and we were both in it. We spoke until the water was cold, and we were cold. We hurried out the bath and into bed (via the kitchen for some hot chocolate). As we got into bed, she went to turn the bedside light on (did I forget to mention that I forgot to buy bulbs?) Well, needless to say, Sherelyn had to take the bulb out of the kitchen light to be able to use the bedside light. We laughed as I said that this was the way to save electricity and to remind her to turn the lights off (the only problem with this system is that she would have to sit in the dark as she waited for the bulb to cool down enough for her to touch it!). I threatened her with a LED headlamp, as it lasts longer and uses NO electricity! Once we had some light, Sherelyn got out her laptop and we watched a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory. We crashed around 22h45 and slept like logs until 09h00 Friday morning.

 

We woke with a start as my alarm went off at 09h00.  We got up, dressed and headed to Solihull town centre to set Sherelyn up with a bank account.  After visiting a few banks, she decided that the first bank we went to was the one she wanted to bank with.  We had an appointment for 14h00, so went for some lunch at spud-u-like.  Once we were done eating, it was time to rush to the bank, where twenty minutes later, she had a bank account.  The next port of call was the cell phone shops.  Having gone to them beforehand, I lead her to the two shops I thought she would get the best deals from.  Again, she chose the one we went into first.  Once all this was done, we went to the job centre to see what jobs were available to her and where they were located (also to familiarise her with the system they use at the job centres).  On the way  back to the car, we browsed high street.  Sherelyn commented on how sore her feet were and how much walking she had had to do…

 

We got back to the car and headed to the shops to get in two months supply of food for her. (as I will be working away most of the time).  We managed to go to Iceland (18h00) for all our frozen food and to Tesco (20h00) for all other food stuff.  Sherelyn loved playing with the trolley on the travellator at Tesco (as it is magnetised so that the trolley does not need to be held as you move between floors). By the time we were all shopped-out, it was late and we were hungry.  I stopped for Fish and chips on the way past Hilary’s, home. I left Sherelyn in the car with the food whilst I went in to get some clothes for the next few days (I did not want her to come in and meet Hilary, as Hilary was not prepared for her visit).  I packed whilst Hilary spoke to me.  Fifteen minutes later, I found myself running to the car to warn Sherelyn that Hilary was coming out to meet her (I cannot help thinking that I looked somewhat like a flaling fish running towards the car).  The meeting was brief (as Hilary did not want our fish and chips to go cold).  I hopped into the car and headed home to unpack (Three flights of stairs and two months worth of food… need I say more?) We ate dinner, unpacked and then went to bed to watch a movie.  It was delicious.

 

Saturday morning arrived rather promptly.  We got dressed and headed to Hilary’s house and the post office.  Unfortunately, the weather was rather miserable (Sherelyn had on approximately six layers of clothing – don’t ask me how!?!).  Once we had done all the boring stuff, I took her to Sarehole Mill.  We pulled into the parking where where Sherelyn read the sign aloud ‘Middle Earth Weekend’.  I laughed at her expression, and began explaining why she was seeing people all dressed up.  I told her about J.R.R. Tolkein’s history and how he had grown up here and based all his books (Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit) on this mill and the bog and landscape around it.  She brightened up considerably.  We got out the car, put our raincoats on, placed our lunch in our bags and headed to the mill.  Unfortunately, the muddy environment did not make for the best walks around the area (BUT I’m determined to go back – with wellies on!)  Once we were tired of Middle Earth, we returned to civilisation.  I drove around our local town to show Sherelyn where everything was and then headed home to cook.  It was a most enjoyable day out.

Sunday arrived nice and slowly.  We spent the day indoors.  It was nice to recover. 

 

Monday arrived sharpishly. We hurried out the house and headed to Westcliff-on-sea to retrieve all my belongings from Bethany.  After the long drive down, we stopped at the sea.  Sherelyn got out and headed for the water.  I laughed as she realised that she would prefer to head back to the car (as it was far warmer, far drier, far less windy and, probably, far prettier!)  Our visit to the sea was rather brief. 

We headed inland, towards Leigh-on-sea (but ended up back in westcliff-on-sea) for some coffee.  Once our coffee was finished, we went to collect my belongings.  Having put all my stuff in the car, I took Sherelyn to high street.  It was rather nice.  We stopped for lunch at Pizza Hut and then headed back home.  The day was rather long, so by the time we got back, we were exhausted.  We parked the car outside the flat and were once again reminded how many stairs there are leading to our flat… I packed my stuff and headed to Hilary’s place, leaving Sherelyn in the flat alone, for the first time, to unpack my stuff (I know, I know <evil grin>).  Naturally, Hilary wanted to know where we had been, what we had been doing, if I had enjoyed it, if Sherelyn had enjoyed it, if I was excited she was here……… midnight arrived sooner than I had anticipated.

 

I was glad to see that the flat was still standing on Tuesday morning.  I headed upstairs to get a few things and then we made tracks to Hall Green train station.  I parked my car and we caught a train to Birmingham Moor Street.  I think Sherelyn was trying to look like she knew what she was doing, but I found her in my shadow, looking for approval several times.  I tried to reassure her that in a week or two she too would be doing this as though it was second nature.  The train stopped at our destination and we hopped off.  Our first port of call was the Bullring. 

(The symbol of the Bullring – this bull – BUT, he was made out of Jelly beans!)

I walked with her through Selfridges as she glowed.  I walked as she explored the shopping centre.  I walked and walked and walked.  We went to the Palisades, then to the Art Museum, then to Broad Street, then to the Symphony Hall, then to the convention centre, then along the canal to the NIA, finally ending in the National Sea Life Centre (where some random old lady gave us a voucher – 2 for 1 tickets to get in).  We spent the best part of the afternoon looking at fish of all shapes and sizes, a 4-D cinema and then some more fish…

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Needless to say, my feet were sore and I was tired and hungry.  We stopped for some sandwiches and an apple on the way back to the Bullring.  I had forgotten how good Sherelyn was at making my feet ache as though they were dipped in acid.  I was rather grateful when we were on the train headed back home.  Although, the day out was rather nice (but, shhhhh, don’t tell Sherelyn).  I dropped Sherelyn off home and headed back to Hilary’s place.

 

At 07h30, my phone rang.  It was the delivery people.  They told me that my bed was their first delivery of the day – and that they would be there within the hour – yay.  I hurried to get to Sherelyn before they did (just as well because they could not find the flat and I had to give them directions).  Finally, my bed arrived and we began putting it together (well, the bits we could – as some needed a screwdriver – which we would borrow from Hilary).  We got as far as we could and then headed to Hilary’s to pick up the necessary bits.  Whilst at Hilary’s place, Sherelyn hopped on the net and looked for some more jobs (stopping only for a little bite of lunch).  18h00 arrived before we knew it.  We headed home to build the bed.  It was so exciting. Once the bed was built and made, I left Sherelyn alone again and headed to Hilary’s.

   

Thursday morning saw me up and about early.  A lady from Oswestry came to collect the shower chair (and I felt I should be dressed when I answered the door!)  Once that was out the way, I picked up Sherelyn and we went to Cadbury World.  It was glorious.  It was chocolate.  At reception, I gave the guy behind the counter our reservation number (as they have that many people going on tours, you have to book).  In return, he handed us our tickets, a brochure and then smiled and gave me a slip of paper (he lowered his voice enough for me to have to lean forward whilst he spoke, and said ‘this will get you into the factory shop where you can buy chocolate at staff prices’).  He raised his voice back to normal and said that I might want to wait for the school tour to enter before we do.  I thanked him, and as we turned to leave, he said ‘I would go around the back of the building to Cadabra once the tour is over for an extra treat’, and then smiled (Sherelyn and I looked at him rather suspiciously at this point).  We entered the tour and were handed a bag with chocolate in it (a rather promising start to a tour, I would say!)  Along the way, we were handed several bars of chocolate (I think this was compensation for the length of the queues and the length of the tour – the tour itself took THREE hours due to the amount of people in the factory).  By the time the tour was over, it was just past 14h30.  We headed to the factory shop (which was quite a walk, I might add), and bought £7.45 worth of chocolate and left.  Sounds like we restrained ourselves, right? Well, for that amount of money, we walked out with approximately 10kg of chocolate.  I think Sherelyn is set with chocolate for the rest of the year now!!!!  The walk back to the car was a hard and heavy one (the things I will do for chocolate!)  Once we had packed all the chocolate into the car, we stopped for some juice and a sandwich.  We decided to make one more stop on the way home (for a drying rack, a fire lighter – as Sherelyn cannot light the normal lighter necessary to cook on gas – and some fruit). 

One day, we will remember that we have to climb three flights of stairs to get things from the car into the flat…

Swine flu hits my piggy bank!

Hello to you all!

I have officially been living in the United Kingdom for a year and a
few days! How quickly the time goes by!

This year has seen me get a stable job (albeit this one!), buy and own
my first car, start my NVQ3, set up home (yes, set up home!!!), make
some really GOOD friends, keep some amazing people in my life AND
reminded me just how precious my family is. I am rather chuffed all
in all!!!!!

I must admit though that this has been the toughest year by far! I had
never realized that all the stuff I took for granted was so hard to
achieve. Although, I am rather excited to tell you that my big sister
is moving to England on Thursday morning (and that I collect her from
Gatwick at a mind-blowing 06h55).

I can't wait to update you as to all the mischief we get up to!

Wish me luck!!

Its been 17 days since my last confession...

I am in a really good mood today. If I look to my left, I see the treetops outlined by the brilliant blue, cloudless sky. I can see a green field with a few brown cows crowded in the shade of its many trees. There is a slight breeze blowing over my hands as I type, from the open window. I can hear the faint sounds of lawnmowers, as the eager people take full advantage of the weather and I can hear birds chirping as they go about their merry day. From downstairs, I can hear the beginnings of lunch and smell the end of breakfast.

I have had a very eventful few weeks since my last post, marked by a lot of FIRSTS.

I have managed to have not one, but TWO fall-outs with Hilary as our personalities started to clash and her egotistical side further emerged (but I shan't dwell on the details, as that would ruin my good mood!)

I have been on my very FIRST Easter egg hunt (well, that I can remember anyway!) There was a large group of us (Debbie, Tom and Ben, Marie and Nigel and their two kids, Hannah and Jon and Hilary’s sister and husband, Heather and Jon).  The even occurred at a Tudor house called Coughton Court, where they are celebrating 600 years of the Throckmorton family’s residence. The event began outside the house:

where each child received a booklet with clues in it. The idea was to walk through the bluebell forest collecting letters that the clues led to (granted, they were not too difficult to spot, with clues such as: ‘watch as a monkey swings through the trees, look up, up, up and there i’ll be’ and ‘hop like a grasshopper up the steps, look around the bluebells and stop by the rock'). By the end of the walk, you would end up with several letters, which had to be rearranged to spell a word (if the child was lucky, their parents will have found all the letters and given them enough clues to figure out the word). If the child guessed the word correctly, they would receive an Easter egg (you know, the traditional big chocolate Easter egg wrapped in green or gold foil).

           

Once the hunt was over, we all went and bought a ticket for the duck race.  At 15h00, over 500 yellow rubber ducks would be thrown into the river and the winning three ducks would be awarded some prize.  Whilst we waited for this exciting even to occur, we had a picnic. I always find it rather amazing how the English can pack so much in the back of their cars (copious amounts of food, hot tea, cold drinks, umbrella’s, coats, picnic blankets – they seem to be able to cater for any kind of weather… I on the other hand, arrive with what I have on my back, in true South African form).

 

After the picnic, Heather, Jon and I went into the Tudor house.  I did the grand tour of the place (as Heather is in a wheelchair and cannot navigate upstairs – duh).  The house itself is surrounded by two churches, award-winning gardens (both walled and not), lakes and riverside walks.  Inside are a multitude of catholic treasures, family portraits, and tapestries.  By the time we were done looking at the inside and navigating the rose gardens, the duck race was over.  We met up with the rest of the family and headed back to Debbies house.  Everyone arrived in drips and drabs, but once everyone was there, we sang happy birthday to Tom and ate cake, chocolates, crisps and drank tea.  It was a fantastic day out.  One-by-one everyone left.  The boys had asked me to stay so that we could play games together and then watch Tom’s new movie (James Bond: Quantum of Solace).  We had such fun.  Then Hilary arrived.

 

I got my FIRST Easter egg and Easter bunny:

(Please note: the Easter egg says ‘Princess’ on it…)

 

I have, however, saved the best FIRST for last!

 

On 9 April, I bought, and now OWN my very FIRST car.  Naturally, she is RED!  Please welcome Ruby to the family!

I am so chuffed with her.  I have driven a massive 300 miles (483km) since Wednesday (as I had update training in Sevenoaks, Kent on Thursday and decided against taking the train!) I am so PROUD! 

 

On that note, I think I’m going to end this blog…  Perhaps now you can see why I’m in such a good mood?