So soon we're too old to carry...

This is a fine song by the Maccabees (here are the lyrics). I've posted this particular link to the video, as it has no adverts. It makes S melt. A bit like the John Lewis advert from a couple of years ago for me that shows a baby girl growing older (though the Maccabees does elicit similar feelings). And yes, I know it's sad to be moved by an advert, but there you go. 

However, this beauty is in a different league. I struggle to get through it: 

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats

Shiver

This is not a good song to drive to (it was on the radio yesterday as I sat behind the wheel, and, yes, the car was moving). Did you know that if you type "hurt" into Google, the top hit is this:

A day in the sun

I felt rotten – dizzy and sick – until I ventured into my back garden and potted a plant that I will be taking to the new place. The fresh air and warmth were like magic. Said plant had been suffering under the shadow of the massive clematis and was straining to reach light and was probably starved of water and suchlike. I imagine the clematis roots spread far and wide.

The sunshine on my arms felt good. I've been stuck inside for what feels like months, feeling pretty rotten. And when I am inactive I feel the cold more acutely than I would otherwise. So, it was great to get outside. Then, my neighbour popped round and gave me a present, totally unexpected, and beautifully thoughtful. When we move, I'll think of them as current friends, not old neighbours.

Later, I went for a drive and succumbed to a McDonald's (I know, I know...). I ate it overlooking the green nearby, the sun shining on me, my CD player on. Next, I went home, sat on the sofa, stuck on a CD that a friend had given me for Christmas (Sarah Slean – very good, like a female Ben Folds) and I finished the novel I was reading. S came home later, exhausted, having spent seven hours cleaning his little boat, as he's selling it. He had caught the sun and hadn't eaten all day but looked happy with his work.

It turned out to be a lovely day. Peaceful and warm. Bliss.

This makes me cry (in a good way)

Fate... up against your will...

In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels



Beautiful...

Silly fool

Thank God I slept last night. I think sanity, such as it was, has returned.

My body ached all day with tiredness. I was hoping to just get through the working day, and would see if I was still standing come time for my kung fu class after work.

During the day, I drank plenty of tea: strong, dark. I ate a huge plate of pasta with fat black olives in it at lunch, accompanied by a friend. It was really good to have a hot meal at lunch – much better than mayonnaise-smothered cardiac-arresting sandwiches that purport to be healthy.

I switched on my iPod at about 4pm (my current boss doesn't mind), when I was seriously flagging and the old familiar feeling of deep exhaustion settled on me. But, listening to music – 'my top rated' – had a strange effect. The heaviness in my body disappeared. My head cleared. I felt energy course through me: endorphins caused by pleasure, I assume. It was quite a dramatic effect.

So, I managed to get to my kung fu class. I did feel pretty zonked, though. I felt like I would cry at times. I think my energy reserves, stoked by the music endorphins, were used up in the first 20 minutes and after that, I felt as though I was rubbish at what I was doing; my very short period of feeling any good drifted away. I know my instructor, N, wasn't impressed. I wasn't either. My shoulders were very tense, the sort of tightness that causes pain. They still hurt this morning. I need to relax. I need a massage.

Obviously, exercise releases endorphins in the body, giving one a natural lift and disguising pain, to an extent. The effect it has on me, when combined with my frustration, is to make me battle through things, like a fool, and push myself. (Adrenaline, another pesky hormone, does the same.) So, I decided, in my fatigued wisdom, to try to kick for the first time in six months. (This was kicking a thick pad.) As I did it with one leg, it felt OK. I was pleased. Then, I switched legs and felt a twinge. Just a little twinge. N asked me if I should be kicking. By that point I was on number 19 of 20 kicks with the second leg. I shrugged, thinking I had to test the knee at some point. Didn't feel any pain at the time – but you never do. Trouble is, the bloody thing is aching today. I'm hoping to God I haven't put myself back to square one. I really could cry.

A spidery vein

What are the chances of iTunes selecting Love Like Blood twice in a row when set on random? Class.

Anyway. So, I went to have a routine check-up at a specialist hospital – the last time I'd gone was two years ago. My asthma, which was never severe, had pretty much gone. But this past week, I've been feeling tight-chested and have coughed as a result. My GP didn't seem to take me seriously. Again. He went on about his own acid reflux. I mean, I know chest discomfort can be caused by acid reflux – that's why I have to take bloody antacid medicine, ever since my evil bitch of a boss bullied me into suffering stress so deep that I walked out of the job, telling them where to stick her notice period. That was six years ago, but the effects on my health were all too concrete. Insomnia, anyone?

As I sat in the waiting room, I read NMJ's book The State of Me. It was good to have a commute to the hospital as it gave me time to read about 100 pages of her work. I can hear NMJ's voice in my head (I have never heard her voice) when I read. And I feel as though a friend is talking to me, although this is a work of fiction.

The main character, Helen, has a phobia of spiders and, with synchronicity that startled me, a spider about the size of a halfpenny (remember those?) lowered itself from somewhere high to float in front of my face and proceeded to watch me as I sat in the waiting area, rigid. It was like Batman on a wire rope. I was The Joker. We know who won. (I don't have a fear of spiders but I don't want them on my face, thanks...)

Eventually, the spider did a marvellous move down an invisible thread of silken web and sat on a wall nearby. I kept an eye on it as I tried to continue reading, and was grateful to be called in to have my lung capacity checked. That meant I'd leave my seat, see a nurse and then be able to return to a spider-free area of the waiting room while waiting for the consultation with the doctor.

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Listening to: Killing Joke - Love Like Blood

Things I saw today...

• A group of what looked like South American Indians performing near the shops I visited today. I usually walk past but, as I have time on my hands this week, I slowed my pace. It was very sweet and relaxing, this music. It made me feel sad, and I am not sure why.

• A smart old lady pushing a trolley of Stella and other stuff through the car park in Sainsbury's. I wondered how she would cope with unloading the trolley. Either she was much tougher than she looked or was in fact aged only 50 and a hardened boozer.

• An email inbox devoid of work emails. This is rare. (There were some from worky people but they were group emails and were fairly banal in content.)

• Cards for 40 year olds. The friend I have recently reconnected with is having a party to mark her big day on Saturday and S and I are going. I looked around several shops to find a suitable card. It wasn't easy. Most cards for women were either tasteful and rather too sedate or completely ridiculously 'up yours' at being 40. So I got a card that didn't make any reference to age, which, I firmly believe (being 38) doesn't matter a flying fig anyway.

• A man lying in the road having been knocked off his motorbike. His helmet was in bits. He seemed to be talking to the police and paramedics. I hope he is OK, and I hope the car driver is OK, too. All too often, motorbikes zoom out at mad speed (but I don't know if this was the case, and shall reserve judgment). I turned my music down as it seemed disrespectful to drive by as though I was having a party.

• My rabbit, M, is so excited when I get home these days that she races around the flat and binkies (twisty jumps while running). She is extremely cool and very affectionate.

• I saw – and bought – some scallops in Sainsbury's. S cooks these to perfection and I am having to stop myself from raiding the cupboard for the tortilla crisps I bought to preserve my appetite.

• The sunshine – at 5am. Sunrise is very early these days, eh? My eye mask had slipped off and, apart from feeling tired, I was convinced it was 7.30am. (I still get up early-ish these days as per my sleep programme rules, holiday or not.)

Guitar

I taught myself to play the guitar and keyboard when I was a child. I wrote many songs, too.

Sometimes, sometimes, I wish I was a rock star.

It's Christmas, be happy!

My supermarket visit today was not relaxing. Sometimes, when I am working at home and can get there early, it is fairly quiet when I arrive. On such occasions, there is time to read the labels and scan shelves. Weirdly for some, I enjoy doing this.

But today, the place was packed with people impatiently pushing trolleys down aisles populated by those who hadn't had the foresight to make a list and loitered annoyingly, oblivious to the dozen people stuck in their wake of indecision. I carried a basket and a small shopping list but managed to fill it so that I could only lift it if I used both of my kung fu-strengthened arms.

All the checkouts were open so I put my basket down behind a grey-haired woman who was buying a feast's worth of goods and remembered that I had forgotten to but the stuff you pour down the plughole to get the water to flow faster. In the minute I was gone, the feast-buyer still had plenty on the conveyor belt but a youngish woman had wheeled her trolley up. When I slipped in to where my basket was – in its legitimate place in the queue – she snapped: "You shouldn't do that!" And thus ensued a ridiculous conversation where this sad, lumpy woman, who looked as though she sucked lime for pleasure, kept on and on about it. How, oh, the world would end if everyone did that. And, oh, how it would stop global warming if I hadn't left my basket there for sixty seconds. (Almost.)

I told her to stop being so rude and added that I couldn't be bothered to speak to her. I was amazed that such a non-happening could arouse her pique. She really must have a life devoid of any real problems if she could spare the energy to act like such a silly fool over nothing. The most ironic part was when she said: "It's Christmas, be happy!" with a scowl on her face.

I shook my head in disbelief and she changed aisle. A lovely old man with sparkly eyes and a smile then unpacked his things behind me. The woman watched from the corner of her eyes as we enjoyed some banter and laughed.

* * *

This song sends shivers down my spine. It makes me cry, every time.

RIP SS's mum. RIP Kirsty MacColl.

Dancing and pain (again)

My mouth is still hurting. Stillllllll... Ow. S and friends who have had teeth out say it isn't unusual that it is still hurting after Monday's extraction. So, instead of heading to A&E this weekend, I have put up with a throbbing jaw.

I was tempted to miss a birthday party on Friday night due to the mouth situation but went along anyway. S and I first went to visit a friend who lives on the same street as the pub at which the party was held, had cake and tea, and settled in very nicely in his warm flat. We didn't want to leave – it was so comfortable and outside was very, very cold – but we thought we should show our faces and dragged ourselves off his leather sofas.

The party was literally one of those occasions where you start off by thinking you'll stay for half an hour and then sidle off, but turned into a brilliant night, where you get to bed at 2am. The birthday boy, who was 40, played the guitar to one song and asked us all to get up and dance (he is in a band). It was excellent.

I haven't danced for months – possibly a year – and I loved it. Two of my friends from kung fu, V, and J, were also there. We laughed a lot and V and I had an obligatory play-fight, which amused the men. It was funny, though, to hear that I have a reputation among my friends for being 'most fearsome' when I spar. You wouldn't think so to look at me! I find it funny but secretly encouraging. I overheard two of my classmates talking about me while I was putting on my sparring gear in the week – they said 'Mel D's sparring, yeah, blimey we had better watch out'... I feel like I am in the Truman Show; it can't be me they're on about. Can it?

I had a couple of flutes of champagne and that was that for me (I didn't want any more than that) and did sleep well, but was exhausted yesterday, due to the ongoing blasted pain. I'm finding it rather tedious.

People

I like watching people, and sometimes I watch people watching other people.

On my way to and from work I observe them, like ants, scurrying this way and that. All in their own secret worlds. It can make me want to cry, these people and their mysteries, weaving their way through my favourite city in the world.

Why is she smiling to herself? Is he holding in tears, or is that anger? Where is she going? What is he thinking? Can any of them read my mind? If they can: hello...

If I listen to my red thing I feel as though I am travelling through a film script, especially when I'm in central London. Today's random shuffle began exquisitely and started with the song I most wanted to hear:

Love Like Blood (Killing Joke)
Sour Times (Portishead)
The Unforgettable Fire (U2)
Protection (Massive Attack)
O Mi Babbino Caro (from Gianni Schicchi)
Strangers (Portishead)

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Listening to: Björk - Human Behavior

Poisonous waters?

Feel a bit better today, thank goodness. Maybe I sweated out the remainder of the virus – or the weird stuff that I found in my bottle of mineral water (more later) – at kung fu. Yes, there was a lot of sweat – we were all drenched, exhausted and loved every minute of it. Instructor N was on good form – tough but good-humoured – and the class was a pleasurable mix of pain and triumph.

I still have big bruises on my arms from last week's class. One is purple, one is red with a yellow patch in the middle. It was funny, N told me to "calm it down" when we were in pairs sparring. I have plenty of enthusiasm and speed but my technique needs sharpening up (as is the case with all of us). I quite like that I need to be told to calm it down when sparring with a six-foot man. Ha ha.

But, yes, the water-poison thing. Well, we were out on Sunday, having a relaxed day, stopped at a café for lunch and I bought a bottle of mineral water to take away. I sipped from it. All fine. Later, I put the bottle by my bed, drank half of it and went to sleep – a fitful sleep. The next day, I felt utterly horrendous.

Before we went out (once I felt vaguely normal), I came across the bottle and found that the water was now green, slightly frothy, contained what looked like the large remains of a capsule – floating like pieces of a giant tapeworm – plus tiny purple globes of stuff.

Now, I don't know what it was – it may have been a vitamin. All I know is that I felt like death warmed up the morning after (but then again I had been ill for a few days...). But I couldn't lift my arms or stand. Hmm. If I go back to the café, I'll only get an apology and free bottle of water, and I can't prove anything (though I still have the bottle with the now-purple water). Ugh.

* * * * *

M the rabbit had to go to the vet today. She hated it and tried to hide under the scales (she weighs 2.5kg, a fact that makes my heart melt for some reason). The vet gave her two injections and a check up. M tried (as much as a bunny can) to cling to me. It was very sweet. When we got home, she raced around, annoyed and in discomfort. I gave her a carrot top, which she ate, but I know she was disgruntled at being taken to the vet. She looks so sleepy now, poor little thing. I'm playing my iTunes favourites softly, which seem to soothe her. She likes God Only Knows by The Beach Boys, I think. One ear has swivelled towards the computer, you see.
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Listening to: Duran Duran - Rio This may seem naff but I remember being 13, in a plane, flying over the Rio Grande and listening to this song on my Walkman. Fucking amazing... "You make me feel alive, alive, alive..."

Do you realize?

I didn't really know much about the Flaming Lips. They were one of the support acts at a wonderful Massive Attack concert in London's Hyde Park a year or so ago... They performed this and rendered me speechless.

I cried my eyes out behind my sunglasses.

Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize - we're floating in space -
Do You Realize - that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun don'-go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - Oh - Oh - Oh
Do You Realize - that everyone you know
Someday will die

Dear morning

One of the good things about having to get up early at the weekend is that you feel like you are stealing time. It's quiet, no one else is around, and if the sun is pouring in through the windows, as it is today, you slowly start to feel energised and awake.

Tea, toast with butter and honey. A happy rabbit at my feet. And some melodious music. I don't have to start thinking yet.
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Listening to: Massive Attack - Joy Luck Club
(This link doesn't take you to the song for some reason; see 'Collected' if you want to hear this exquisite song)

Protection

And this one sums up how I feel sometimes...
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Listening to: Massive Attack - Protection

Absolute

I love love love the harmonies in this song – they have a physical effect on my solar plexus, I'm sure of it. It's so clear and clean-sounding, Green's voice is like honey... the whole thing verily glitters.
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Listening to: Scritti Politti - Absolute

Come back with me

Oh, it's sooooo wrong. Come on, come on... you know you want to. Bring a six-pack and jump in with me... (plus, I have just twigged how to embed YouTube vids). I'm ridiculously hyper.









And, a couple of very guilty pleasures while you calm yourself down... Remember – you're indestructible, apparently. "You knew that he was there on the case, now he's in love with you, he's in looove with you..."
*cough*

Fish heads

Just because I want to – and it makes me smile (plus, it's a little treat for all you eccentric 80s kids out there). Have a listen: Fish heads.

It's fabulously insanely bizarre and crazy.

Lazy girl blogging

Bullet points will just have to do, as I am so lazy and also, paradoxically, so very busy. Get me...

• Ooh, I slept better last night. Deep joy. Oh, yes. I even dreamed about NMJ. (Don't worry, NMJ, it wasn't anything dodgy.) Am still aching with tiredness though, possibly brought on by kung fu the other night. Why is this text so small?
  
• S has recovered from climbing three of the land's highest mountains for charity. A splendid effort in stunningly bad weather. I felt chilled just hearing about the rain, wind and general inclement conditions. There were tales of helicopter rescues as it was so tough.
  
• My stitches have one more day to cause me strife and itch and pick and stick. Yerck. Not really looking forward to doing what I always do – smile while under stress – and pretend all is well *smile, smile* when I see the nurse for stitch removal tomorrow.
• I worked for 12+ hours non-stop yesterday. Some of it was rather dull, some rather interesting. Mostly dull. My backside is now the shape of my chair. (Well, not really, but it feels like it is.)
• Luciano Pavarotti has died of pancreatic cancer. He looked like a man that lived doing what he loved (and who he loved). The first opera I saw live was Turandot (which contains Nessun Dorma (how apt!)) and it changed my life by shattering preconceptions I held about certain types of music. I was speechless with awe. Pav wasn't in it but the song was so his that you surely could not hear it and not think of him striding across the stage, his charisma oozing out of every pore. RIP, Mr Pavarotti. Your voice will stay with us.