The Good

With the benefit of the whole day off work, I got all my jobs done, made all the necessary phone calls, confirmed with Hospital A that they were expecting Mum and that her bed was ready and waiting for her, got her all packed up and to the hospital on time. I even found a parking space not a million miles away from the ward! I registered her on the Patientline system, so she had telly and radio and a phone line, and we waited for the nurse to come and check her in.

The Bad

Now, Mum has a daily medidose pack, which is a wallet containing 7 daily boxes for all the tablets she needs. Since she was quite so ill earlier this year, and got all her tablets in a muddle, I’ve taken to doing these for her. Last weekend I did 2 weeks worth (we have 2 packs), as I was due to be away this weekend. Diligently, I had packed all her tablets and her medication chart, and so presented them to the nurse. Unfortunately, they couldn’t use them, as they have to dispense direct from the packet – so they 100% know what they’re dolling out – or get a hospital doctor to prescribe them from the dispensary. I couldn’t have brought the boxes even if I’d known that, as I’d used up most of her tablets doing the 2 weeks worth, and wasn’t due to pick up the new lot of tablets until next week when they were needed. Now, this shouldn’t be a problem – they’re a hospital, they should have all the tablets – but my previous experience has been that they don’t have some of the variations she’s on, and we’ve had problems. With her psychiatric medications, that can be a BIG problem, which is specifically why I’d taken in all her tablest ready done. Aaargh!!!

& The Unbelievable

So I’m finally back home packing to go away – in my usual can’t fit the entire wardrobe in my suitcase sort of way – and my mobile rings. The screen says *private number*, and seeing as it’s just gone 4.30, I assume it’s Chris, ringing to say he’s just leaving work. It’s not. It’s Hospital B, asking if I can bring Mum in tomorrow (Saturday) so they can do her next week……

Needless to say, I explained that Mum was now safely in Hospital A, so no they couldn’t. But we thought that wasn’t happening they said. I know, I said, neither did I. But I hadn’t wanted to bother them again, as I wasn’t expecting to hear from them until at least next week, and certainly not to have that kind of short notice.  Aaargh again!!!

You won’t be surprised to know that I hit the wine last night when we finally go to Northampton; nor will you be surprised to ascertain from the number of typos in this blog that I’m paying for it this morning!!

…Mum’s going into Hospital A tomorrow.

Yup, Hospital A. The one that told me yesterday that they couldn’t fit her in on Monday’s list after all. They rang Mum today - fortunately one of her support workers was there, because Mum couldn’t make out a word of what they were saying - and told her to ring the ward tomorrow at midday to double check there was a bed, and if all was well, they’d admit her in the evening. Knowing I’m going away for the weekend, when Mum cottons on, she ring me in  bit of a panic.

Can you blame her? I certainly can’t. This hospital has mucked both of us about so much this week, I don’t think either of us knows whether we’re coming or going. I’m just grateful that Mum’s mood has picked up a bit, else all this yes you are no you’re not ooh yes you are business would have put her in a complete tailspin.

So. With steam coming out of my ears once more, I phone the hospital, fully prepared to tell them it’s waaaay too short notice, and no can do. The covering secretary listens very sympathetically as I outpour (in a pretty controlled manner it has to be said) my tale of woe and frustration. She apologises for the fact she wasn’t aware of the full story (or Mum’s deafness) before she rang Mum, and goes on to explain that when doc found out Mum had been knocked back after all, he expressed very firmly that he wanted to do Mum’s procedure on Monday, and that he would start his list early if that’s what it took. Based on that, I could hardly say no, he was obviously trying to make amends for Monday’s cock up. But still…with a deep breath I accepted the date, but said I’d have to bring Mum in early afternoon as I was going away. Helpful secretary checked with the ward, and yes that was OK, but I’d still have to phone at midday to double check there was going to be a bed. Even though she assured me there would be. Hmmmm. OK, so I put my trust in them once again, and go and beg a few hours off work for Friday afernoon (having told work yesterday that I wouldn’t need them), whereupon my HR Manager told me I was having the whole day off as I had so much to do. I thanked her profusely and promptly burst into tears. I think it might all be getting to me…

Guess who’s been speaking to the NHS again today!

It went something like this : yesterday I ring Hospital B, but the woman I need to speak to is off sick, but should be back next day, so I then ring the secretary to the Consultant from Hospital A to re-cap what he’d said Monday, and to explain I needed to speak to  Hospital B but couldn’t until today. She said OK, but she only works part time, so if I wanted to get Mum in this Friday, I’d need to let her know by 2pm Wednesday. With me so far? OK.

So, today, I ring Hospital B again, and woman is still off sick, so I explain the whole sorry saga to another woman, who has a good old dig through all their records, and says she can’t see any mention of Mum being called in for the next two weeks, so I’m safe to go ahead with Hospial A and this weekend. So I ring doc from Hospital A’s secretary again, and confirm I’ll be bringing Mum in on Friday. I also ask if it would be possible to bring her in at lunchtime rather than first thing, as it will be easier to get time off in the afternoon at this short notice. She says she’s not sure, she’ll check and ring me back. So, while I’m waiting for her to call me back, I start making a list - a very long list - of all the people/arrangements/minor appointments that Mum has over the next few days that will need cancelling/postponing/advising etc etc. She then calls me back.

Monday’s list is full. So full, that they might have to start bumpng people off it, so adding Mum ain’t goona happen. Even though I’d been told it could happen on Monday, provisionally mentioned it yesterday, and wouldn’t have even found out today had I not asked the admission time question.

AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Day 1 : ..and I can’t go on my hols without saying goodbye to Eric…Eric? Where the f**k is Eric?

It was 6am. We’d been up since about 4.30. We were, amazingly, on time and ready to go. Mogs had been let out about 15 minutes before (as they never go far first thing), so we rattled the obligatory tin of tuna. Whoosh! Pickle arrives. Whoosh! Button arrives. Wh..no, hang on, no Eric. Call again. And again. No sign. This continues for half an hour. Eric NEVER goes far. It’s decision time : junk the holiday or just go. We agonise, but go, telling the cat sitting neighbour to ring as soon as they see him. Feel like absolute sh*t the whole flight; even the splendid Flushed Away on the in-flight entertainment can’t distract me. Not exactly the best start to a stress free holiday, and to make it worse, the combination of the length of the flight and the subsequent time difference, it’s a whole 12 hours before I finally get the text I’ve been praying for - eric’s fine, r u havin fun. Oh thank God. Holiday starts here…

Day 2 : Doctor Doctor

We awake to blue skies and sunshine and a magnificent view from our balcony. Finally I begin to unwind, as we enjoy a leisurely breakfast and have a stroll around to get our bearings. As we’re wandering over to the official welcome meeting, my mobile rings. It’s good old Hospital B asking me if I can get Mum into them just 48 hours after I’m due to pick her up from the care home. I remind them that I’m on holiday, and that their suggestion isn’t the wisest of moves for a manic depressive, plus it clashes with another appointment she has. They ring off (wonder if it was my bill or theirs?), and I’m left in mild hysterics that so far, my getting away from it all holiday isn’t quite going according to plan. We further distract ourselves by hammering the credit card at the welcome meeting by booking two trips : a day trip by air to Cairo and a day’s snorkelling. Meh, it’s only money. Rest of the day spent lounging by the pool, playing giant chess (2 games, score = one all) and eating. I love all inclusive!

Day 3 : Busy Doing Nothing

It’s sunny. I’m sat by the pool reading. Chris is admiring the view (when did female Russian tourists transform from shot putters to uber babes?) I’m already on my second book, quite an achievement seeing as I haven’t been able to concentrate properly on reading for months! Yeees, this is relaxing… More giant chess that evening (2:1 to Chris so far), and then we try to get an early night, as to our horror, our early start for the Cairo trip the next day – which we though meant they’d be picking us up around 6.30 – is actually coach departing for airport at 4.30. Gulp.

Day 4 : Walk Like An Egyptian

Blug. It’s early. The hotel entertainment (which takes place about 100 yards from our room) doesn’t finish til 11, so our early night wasn’t. It’s still dark as we head down to reception, bag packed with recommended necessities: tissues for toilet paper, bottled water and sun tan lotion. I’ve also packed a couple of long sleeved t-shirts in case it’s really hot. So, imagine our surprise when, after our 45 minute flight, we land in Cairo to a pretty dismal weather forecast. It gets worse. By the time we arrive in Giza (where the pyramids are), it’s about 12 degrees (I kid you not) and the sky is producing Egypt’s answer to sleet. It’s effing COLD. At the pyramids. I am wearing both our long sleeved t-shirts and shivering. However, we try to make the best of it, and take lots of pictures (managing not to include the Burger King and Pizza Hut in the shanty town that’s about 250 yards away). We even go inside the second pyramid, which was great because a) I’ve been inside a pyramid! And b) it was warm and dry in there…! Onto the Sphinx – which is MUCH smaller than I thought it was – and then back into Cairo. Cairo, it has to be said, is a mess. It’s like someone took a town, poured it into a blender, switched the blender on without replacing the lid, and poured the remnants out onto the landscape and said oh look, Cairo! There’s no planning, people just build where they feel like it, and the poverty in some places is pretty grim. Still, it’s onto a papyrus museum/shop (I admire the artform but would not pay to have it in my house!!) and then lunch. They’ve booked us into the Hard Rock Café in the basement of a large hotel (it’s the only place they can guarantee you won’t get a tummy bug!!), but more importantly, THIS PLACE SELLS SWEATSHIRTS – most of the group buy one! From here it’s onto the Egyptian Museum, which is mind boggling – and, best moment for me – get to see Tutankhamun’s (well it’s spelt something like that) death mask, which we thought would have been in Luxor. Wow. That’s a LOT of gold! Final stop of the day is a huge bazaar, which we brave (don’t look at them, say no thanks (politely) and KEEP WALKING!!! The bazaar surrounds a mosque, and there are loads of ferral cats – interestingly enough, cats are allowed in the mosque, whereas dogs aren’t! They all seem fairly well fed, but there’s one little one in the bazaar itself who breaks my heart : she the spitting image of Button but tiny, her eyes are fairly crusty, and she miaows at me and purrs her little heart out when I make a fuss of her. Ever mindful of soft westerners, the chap tries to sell her to me, which is obviously totally impractical (even though I think Chris sussed out I was trying to calculate quarantine fees etc etc) and we walk away. Perhaps I’m still a bit fragile over the Eric business, perhaps it’s symptomatic of being tired and emotional and well overdue for this holiday, but it really gets me down, and I’m pretty quiet for the rest of the trip. Until we get to the airport for our return flight back to Sharm, and we meet up with the other tour operator groups - most of whom are wearing Hard Rock Café – Cairo sweatshirts!!! I can’t help but laugh, and my mood starts to lift again. By the time we’re back at the hotel, it’s gone 10 and we are knackered by hungry. Dinner is over, and All Inclusive snacks don’t start until 11.30 – sod that, room service! Two fabby cheeseburgers later, we hit the hay and fall fast asleep. What a day!

Day 5 : Money Money Money

Apparently, when we were in Cairo, Sharm experienced its worst weather for about 7 months – it actually blew a gale, and one hotel further down the coast, which has part of its structure built out over the water, had to confine their guests to their rooms for 3 hours!!! We spend the entire day recovering by the pool (I start book 4) after the previous day’s exertions, and then in the evening, go down the road to Hadaba, a neighbouring resort with a very pretty bazaar called Fantasia. We have loads of fun haggling and buying presents for Mum and the cat sitters. And in one shop they have kittens! Who are obviosly well looked after, as the shop owner indulgently watches them dive bomb his stock. My kind of people! Back at the hotel, I hit the cocktails, and am more than a tad tiddly. They don’t measure out the vodka you know…

Day 6 : Lazing On A Sunny Afternoon

Yup. Another lazy day by t’pool. I am going to miss this (but I am not going to miss the damn song they play at least three times a day and dance to. Makes Whigfield sound like sheer class). I fnish book 4. Chris is still enjoying the view. The pool’s a bit damn cold to actually go in, but Chris braves it, and then drips all over me. Must be love. Snorkelling tomorrow!

Day 7 : Perfect Day

Here are usually 20-25 people on the snorkelling trips – today, there are 10 of us. We rattle luxuriously on our gin palace as we head out to sea. This really is the life! We are kitted out with snorkels and flippers, and, as we arrive at stop number 1, life jackets. Chris is a little wary, he’s not a very strong swimmer – but I really held out for this trip, as we had been told we absolutely MUST go snorkelling. So he’s a little jittery at first, but as soon as he sticks his face in the watre – and emerges again just long enough to say WOW – he’s off, and you can’t see him for bubbles. I have a bit more truble adapting to the mask – and I cannot deal with the flippers at all – but it’s oh so worth it, the water is so clear, the fish so vibant – just like they’d swan straight of the pages of a child’s colouring book. There’s one more snorkelling stop before lunch (which is great!), then a longish trip while we digest and sunbathe to stop number three. As I emerge from the water, I notice my right shoulder looks a little red. I’ve been slathering myself in suntan lotion all day – ah, n=but not until the first stop. Stupidly, I didn’t consider the sun’s strength for early morning (for early, ready 9.30), and completely forgot applying any suntan lotion during the trip out, as the wind was so cool. Dumb, really dumb. By the time we get back to the hotel, my right shoulder is positively nuclear. The heat of it is drying the wet t-shirt I have over it. We’re talking RED. Cream from the chemist and a liberal application of pure aloe vera (which I then buy for a luduicrously expensive price from the hotel perfume shop) alays it a bit, but I’m a tad concerned about the trip home tomorrow…One more game of giant chess (final score 3:1 to Chris, arse!!), and we head for bed.

Day 8 : 7 Days In The Sun

It’s time to go home. The week has flown by, we found out halfway through that there was a 10 day option from East Midlands, but never mind, it was a Damn Good holiday. My shoulder has calmed down enough to make the flight home bearable, and this time I’m able to enjoy the in-flight movie : One Night At the Museum. Final book tally = 4.5. Not bad! Thank you Egypt, I will be back!

Yes I know I’ve only just had one.

Yes I know you’re still waiting for the official holibob blog (blame the loft ladder which misbehaved again this weekend - we’ve only just managed to break into the loft today).

Trust me, after this afternoon, I need another holiday.

You may recall that Mum has been waiting for three hospital procedures : a bladder procedure at Hospital A, and a combined procedure for her pharyngeal pouch op and steriod injections into her poor athritic knees at Hospital B. The two hospitals are in different counties, and therefore run by different trusts.

You may also recall a holibob update on Paul’s blog where Hospital B rang me whlist I was on holiday - even though they had been advised when I was going away - to ask me if could bring Mum in for them to do their stuff on 22/3 (the ops themselves wouldn’t be until 27/3, but they needed the extra time to get her off warfarin first). I passed on this, because it would’ve been 48 hours from collecting Mum from the care home (waaaay too short notice to give a manic depressive when they’re going through a low), but also because Hospital A had already confirmed 26/3 for the their bit (an out patients appointment, as they’d said she wouldn’t need to come off warfarin. Remember that bit. It’s important). Hospital B said they’d let me know what was happening. But I haven’t heard anything from them since.

So - I take Mum to Hospital A this afternoon as planned. I allow plenty of time which is just as well, as the traffic is horrendous. We arrive in good time, and miracle of miracles, I even find a parking space in the same county. We book in. We wait. We are showed to a changing room, and Mum gets into her oh so fetching gown. We wait some more.

And some more.

And some more.

As we approach the magic should we put more money in the parking meter moment, Mum’s called in. I go with her. Aside from hello, and then HELLO (as remember Mum is very deaf) the first - FIRST - thing the doc says is *now, you’re on warfarin aren’t you?*

You know where this is going don’t you?

Apparently Mum does have to come of warfarin for this procedure, so they can’t do it today. I point out - quite firmly - that I had already checked this out, he asks who with, and I can’t remember, but I know I did. Plus (and unfortunately I only thought of this afterwards), if they know she’s on warfarin - which they patently obviously DID - they why send her an outpatients appointment in the first place???!!!

By this time I’m doing a fair impression of a Victor Meldrew/John McEnroe love child - *I don’t believe it / you cannot be serious* - but of course it’s to no avail, because at the end of the day Mum’s still on warfarin and so the procedure is medically unsafe. End of.

It wasn’t doc’s fault, and I must say he was very good at apologising, and has given me his secretary’s number and a list of dates over the next 7 weeks when he can do this procedure - but I have to get hold of Hospital B first of all and find out what they have planned. If anything. My faith in the NHS - and I didn’t have that much anyway - is rapidly diminishing. It isn’t even a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing - I truly believe the left hand isn’t even aware of righty’s existence. Honestly. They couldn’t organise an orgy in a brothel if you supplied the MPs. I may send them a bill for a wasted half day’s leave.

My stomach ulcer is coming along nicely.

Just a quickie to say hi, and how good it is to be back - NOT!!

I know you’ve had holibob updates via Paul, and I promise there will be a proper holibob blog - with pictures! - but a) I’ve got to find time to write it, and b) Paul’s then got to find time to post it for me - with pictures! - as I’m technically too crap to do such things.

Executive summary? - FAB!!! And even Mum said she had a pleasant week at the care home, AND has already volunteered to go back again if we want to go away for another holiday later in the year. No, I haven’t been smoking funny pipes while away, that’s honestly what she said.

The only downside so far (apart from coming back to a bloody cold country and having to go back to work!) is that I’ve got pretty bad motion sickness (the room is continualy pitching and rolling) - my inner ear can be a bit tempremental when it comes to flying and a total of 4 flights (we went on a day trip to Cairo) and a day on a boat snorkelling seem to have buggered it up quite well. Still, at least it’s some different drugs to dabble with…

Sorry, you would have had the 6,5,4 instalment last night, but I conked out on the sofa instead!

So - yesterday - legs waxed (oh! the relief!), Mother duly labelled and packed, and a little treat of a nails manicure for all my hard work. Today - Mother duly delivered, self packed and house semi tidy with a lot of help from Chris. With only two chipped nails (I’m no good at being girlie) I can finally say I’M READY!!

You lot look after yourselves while we’re away - don’t go getting up to any mischief - and we’ll be back fully rested and chilled before you know it. Unless I find bar work out there…or we get blown up (Mother has mentioned this more than once). Rest assured that if we DO get blown up, I shall take it very personally and beat the cr*p out of those responsible with the soggy end of whichever bits of me I can muster. They can’t say they haven’t been warned…

Bye y’all!! xx

FINALLY the end of what has seemed a very long week - and having got into work at 8 both yesterday and today, I can say with some relief that work at least is as up to date as it possibly could be. Now, just have to finish sorting out Everything Else.

Last night Chris and I went on a bit of a shopping spree, resulting (for me) in some nice stuff from Next and some cheap crappy stiff which doesn’t fit and will therefore be going back to Matalan.

Oh, and a new suitcase.

A very PINK suitcase. Sparkle Princess would love it.

No, sorry, no pix, but here’s a song we came up with earlier :

(To the Pink Panthe theme)

So here it is the pink suitcase, the really pink suitcase

Have you ever seen a suitcase so pink?

It really is a girlie case, will Chris ever pick it up without losing face?

So here it is, the pink suitcae (ah-ha) the really pink suitcase

And it’s as pink as your nose

And it’s the one and only truly unmissable, suitcase, pink suitcase, from head to toe

*ahem*

Tomorrow is Mother day - last bits of shopping, labelling all her stuff and packing her up. Say a prayer for my sanity, I think it might take a bit of a bashing!

I cannot for the life of me remember if I’d told you that the firemen finally turned up about 10 days ago to do the house fire safety check and fit our new smoke alarms. Well, they did. Three fitted in total; one downstairs, one upstairs and one in the loft/office (makes sense, 10,000 football programmes is rather a lot of combustible material). Hurrah and all that.

About one week ago, I cam home from work, and whilst not tripping over the post, managed to trip over a fire alarm instead, which had detatched itself from the ground floor ceiling. Ho hum, I thought, must stick that back up again.

This morning, just before leaving for work, I witnessed the first floor ceiling one throw itself lemming like towards the floor.

I’m just waiting for the loft one to knock me out as I blog…

So. We go on holiday in 4 days time. Aside from worrying about Mum in home, cats left here, house quite possibly disappearing under three foot of water (if the last 72 hours is anything to go by), and not being allowed on the damn plane in the first place because I am Full of Snot, I can now add the house burning down to my paranoid not so little list because no-one will hear the stupid sodding smoke alarms which can’t stay stuck to the stupid sodding ceilings.

*Takes deep calming breath - fails because is too bunged up - and goes off in search of Olbas nasal inhaler* (yes, one more drug to become addicted to!!)

So I come home from work early yesterday, having (wo)manfully struggled through most of the day with a decidely dodgy tummy, to a familiar sound. I thought the dulcet tones of water were meant to be relaxing?

My ostrich are they relaxing. Not when there’s a tidal wave coming at you through the garden gate and the overflow is AGAIN. And all I wanted to do was curl up with a hot water bottle and feel ugh…

Turn off water. Phone plumber. Plumber v busy. Explain to plumber that am at home with bad stomach bug, and prospect of being toiletless is v alarming. Plumber promises to do his best. And, to his credit, he does, turns up at 6pm, reviews the situation, discovers second water tank hiding in eaves behind first, and identifies it as the true culprit. One trip (by him) to local DIY store, and another nice new shiny ballcock later, and (cross bloody everything) the problem does indeed seem to be solved. Another 20 squids down the drain (oh the humour…!) but still not as bad as it could have been.

On the tummy front, still feel a bit dodgy today, and I appear to be coming down with a cold as well. Snuffling I can cope with, snuffling and a desire to remain close to the facilities meant that I’ve taken today off as a precaution, as I really can’t afford to be laid low towads the end of the week, waaaaaaay too much to do!

No, no, NO - not that pain! I am referring to house related disasters.

Imagine the scene - I’m stumbling to the bathrom at 07.55, to get ready to be a good Christian girlie, and drag my backside to a pew it hasn’t sat on for far too long, when I become aware of a niose not unlike a waterfall.

Now, those of you who have visited this abode will know that we have water out the back - but I ain’t never heard a canal make this sort of noise. A quick look out of the spare room window reveals the problem. The overflow is and it sounds like the tank is continuously filling. Oh joy.

I had a run of not so good plumbers last year, as you might remember, and so having turned the water off (which is the extent of my plumbing capabilities) rang a Good Friend who happens to co-own a lettings agency, and who was therefore likely to know of some good emergency plumbers. He came up trumps, and within a couple of hours, Mr Plumber turned up and sorted the problem inside all of 15 minutes. Not bad eh?

Ha - you will be saying, but I bet he charged you a good few body components for doing that on a Sunday.

25 squids. Yup. That’s all.

Think I was due a bit of good luck! Roll on the holiday…

No, not ‘cos they’re a tad chunkier than I would like.

No, not ‘cos they’re the colour of tippex.

No, not even ‘cos they’re a bit on the short side, although if you’re a Morecambe and Wise fan, there’s really only one option left….

‘Cos they’re hairy!!!

Y’see, it’s nice to get one’s legs waxed beofre one goes on holiday - lasts longer than shaving, and less bathroom clutter to take with you - the only thing is, waxing works better and hurts (marginally) less if you let the hairs get quite long. I’m not talking plaiting capabilities here, but long enough for me to think *eurgh* and *thanks gawd it’s winter*

This time next week, I shall have legs as bald and smooth as a baby’s bum - can’t wait!

Did you know it’s 28 degrees and wall to wall sunshine in Egypt at the moment…..

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! :-)

Firstly, perhaps an apology for the manic nature of last night’s blog? I do tend to go from one extreme to another; I’ve often found that I get a bit (bit??!!) hyper the day after a major low. Ho hum, whatever gets you through as they say. Oh, and Rob - the chocklit - came to me in the form of a box of smarites from my MD, she said they were nature’s happy pills. I like my MD. And yes Paul - I ate them!!

Today, less drugs, (slightly) more sanity. And the one month anniversary of my joining the gym, so I thought I’d give you a little progress report.

In 4 weeks, I have been nine times - it would have been 12, but I had to cancel on three occasions (1 x migraine, 1 x can’t move my arm after holiday jab and 1 x Mother), so I think that’s pretty good going. It works for me that it’s a three minute walk from home, and I do find I’m  much more likely to go as I’ve made an appointment and can therefore schedule it into all the craziness.

I do think it’s beginning to have an effect. I’m sure I felt an ab the other day, struggling its way through the - well, let’s be polite and call it winter insulation. Some I have mentioned this too have been quite unkind and suggested it was trapped wind or a hernia, but I’m sure it was an ab. Things to do seem to be tightening up somewhat.

On the downside, I’ve only lost about 1.5 pounds, but I’m going with the theory that muscle weighs more than fat…

Anyway, it’s a pretty easy regime to get into and keep to, so, so far, so good. Shame it’s all going to be destroyed on my all inclusive I’ve paid for it so I’m damned well going to eat it holiday…!!!

Jan, we will definitely be going emergency conference dress shopping, there is NO WAY I’m going to get into the dress I bought, that’ll have to wait til Autumn!