The dangers of healthy eating

This healthy eating lark (I’m ignoring the large quantity of chocolate biscuits in my diet for the purposes of this sentence) is quite tricky in unexpected ways.

The other weekend I made myself those filo wrapped roast veggies and feta and, despite looking like small logs, they are rather delicious, even if I do say so myself.

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They are, however, complicated in ways I could not have anticipated.  In our office we have a sad lack of cutlery. As a result I have a small stash of plastic knives and forks snaffled from various places nearby.  This has always worked perfectly, until my filo logs made an appearance.

While eating log number 1 I felt something hard among the veggies.  I did wonder what it could be, but swallowed it down anyway.  The second time it happened though, I did that really attractive thing of fishing around with my tongue to locate it and extracting it from the mouthful.  It was small and plastic.  There was no plastic involved on my cooking.  It was a mystery.  Until I went in for another mouthful:

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Yes, it turned out I’d broken the end of two fork prongs and actually eaten one of them.

The next day it got worse.  Midway through Log number 2 the fork shattered entirely:

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I think it’s time to go back to the frittatas.  And maybe a chocolate biscuit or two :o)

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A butterfly day out

Yesterday Sister 2 organised a day out to the butterfly house at Wisley. Here’s a few photos :o)

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It was rather warm in there....

It was rather warm in there and everything steamed up

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When the ones above open their wings, you can see a brilliant flash of blue (but it is so quick, you can't get a good photo!)

When the ones above open their wings, you can see a brilliant flash of blue (but it is so quick, you can’t get a good photo!)

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Trying to get the perfect picture

It wasn't all about the butterflies....

It wasn’t all about the butterflies….

Being bugs....

Being bugs….

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So much excitement, a sit down was needed...

So much excitement, a sit down was needed…

The world's biggest lemon?

The world’s biggest lemon?

When your nose won't stop running....

When your nose won’t stop running….

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Crocuses

A good day was had by all :o)

A good day was had by all :o)

Thank you, SIster 2 for organising us all :o)

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A surprisingly healthy Pog

Sister 1 called me today.

Sister 1:  Hello?

Me:  I can’t talk. I’m at the hospital waiting for an old person appointment.

Sister 1: Have you taken Dad somewhere?

But I hadn’t.  It was for me.  I’d been sent a letter about an ‘NHS Checkup for 40-70 year olds’ a while back.  As I am not 40 (quite), I ignored it.  Then I got a letter from the doctor surgery ticking me off for not booking so I gave in.  So today I went to the hospital for what turned out to be a bit of an MOT and a bit of a heart check.

For the first time ever, I passed every test with flying colours.  Blood pressure?  Perfect.  Cholesteral?  Double what the good part should be (no, I don’t really understand that either).  Heart age?  A tender 37.  BMI?  Even that was within the healthy range.

There was a small misunderstanding / sense of humour failure on the diet area though.  She asked if I ate fruit and vegetables.  I said that weirdly, I had recently become slightly obsessed with them and they now made up the bulk of my food.

‘You do really need to balance your diet, though’ she said.

‘Oh, it’s balanced’, I replied.  ‘This morning, for example, I had lemon juice and hot water, a banana nutribullet and finished it all off with four chocolate biscuits.’

Apparently she meant protein.

But hey ho, I passed all the tests and my form got ticks in all the right places, which has to be a first.  And after cutting down my 12 coffees and 10 teas to one of each, and my smoking to nothing in the last three weeks, I’m not about to give up the chocolate biscuits too! :o)

Sun AND spring flowers at last! Hooray :o)

Sun AND spring flowers at last! Hooray :o)

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Multitasking

Last week two different people gave me their thoughts on time.  You can be the judge of how useful they were.

First I was told that ‘Not having enough time is bullshit.  It’s just a case of planning’.

Later in the week, when I said that I wished there were a few more hours in the day I was told ‘You should never wish; it shows that you have no control over a situation’.

My gut reaction was that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but….  Anyway, I decided to put them to the test when I realised I was never going to achieve everything I needed to the other evening.  I had to get home, join a conference call (which would start while I was driving), finish crocheting a Minion hat and spend some time on my wobble board.  I had other stuff I had to do afterwards so there was a small window to achieve all three.  So I planned and I took control.

I was part way home when the call started, so I pulled over, dialled in, put my phone on speaker and…the speaker function had stopped working.  I didn’t have time to take the whole call at the side of the road, so I rolled up my bobble hat a bit further and…

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…popped my Blackberry in there.  I had to stay at a slightly interesting angle, but I could hear :o)

I got home and swapped the phone for the laptop to continue the call.  There was thirty minutes left of it. It would have been wasting time just to sit and watch the slides, so I got out the crochet.  Then I got out the wobble board.  And I made part of a minion while exercising and paying attention to the work stuff.  I even threw in a few emails there, just because I wanted to show off (to myself and Norman, as obviously nobody else was appreciating the literal balancing act going on at Pog Towers).

laptop on the left, crochet in the front and you can just see a foot on the wobble board - multitasking!

laptop on the left, crochet in the front and you can just see a foot on the wobble board – multitasking!

I think it is safe to say I have reached a whole new level of multitasking.  I’m not sure it was quite what either of those individuals meant, but I did plan, and I did take control.  It’s almost a shame I can’t take my crochet and wobble board into the office…I’d get some fun stuff done and get rid of my spare tyre, all while doing the day job :o)

Posted in crochet, work | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

A little makingness update

This weekend I have:

Caught up with my temperature blanket:

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Made another pair of trousers:

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Despite Norman’s protestations:

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Got all healthy:

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And made eight dinners /lunches:

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Finished and delivered two minions hats:

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And started making more. There is a cake in the oven right now and there is still a heap of things to get done on my to do list.  It’s been busy, but I do like a makingness weekend :o)

Posted in Cooking, crochet, sewing | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

A bit of remembering

This is a bit different from a normal Pog Blog post, but it’s something I would like to write, so I hope you’ll bear with me.

I’d like to tell you a story…

When I was little, I had a best friend – the sort of best friend we all had.  That one who was always at your house or you at theirs.  The sort of friend who was just there.  Always.  Like another member of your family.  My best friend was called Cassian and we met when we started nursery school aged two.  She was smaller than me, and I remember her then as a feisty little girl with a really infectious laugh.

March 1980 - age 3 Cassian left, me right Our first school 'spring festival' where we had to wear a crown of flowers and sing spring songs at a hall full of parents

March 1980
Cassian left, me right
Our first school ‘spring festival’ where we had to wear a crown of flowers and sing spring songs at a hall full of parents. It was weird.

We were the sort of friends that got to each other’s birthday parties early and left well after everyone else.  I clearly remember one year when we were told off because between us we ate a bowl of skips and a bowl of quavers crisps before anyone had even arrived.  One of my favourite memories  was staying after that party to watch Cassian unwrap her presents.  We were five years old (I think), and she was kind enough to let me unwrap one.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child do that since and it still makes my tummy smile now.

I can remember Cassian being  poorly when we were four.  I visited her in Guys hospital, and although I can picture her there, I mostly remember the pretty fish in the tank near her bed.  Cassian had chemo and lost her hair.  I’m not sure it really registered with me – she was just my best friend and looks didn’t come into it.  I do remember her first day back at school though.  She had been given a wig, but it was the early 80’s and it was not a good one.  She turned round to her Mum, pulled it off and announced ‘I’m not wearing that itchy thing!’  And we all just got on with the busy life of being a small person at school.

If I could tell you more I would; about our dressing up, face painting, meeting up at the local bonfire each year, parties, discovering the wonder of recording our voices on a tape recorder…we loved doing that.  We used to write postcards to each other when we went on holiday.  I still have one somewhere that I know by heart.  It says:

‘Dear Pog.  I am very peely.  Love Cassian. Xxx’

Sadly, I don’t remember many more details.  Just her voice, her laugh, her ridiculously soft hands and how her hair grew back thinner and fairer.

Christmas party - Cassian on Father Christmas's lap. Me guarding on the right...

December 1980 Christmas party – Cassian on Father Christmas’s lap. Me guarding on the right…

June 1981 Dressing up, Cassian's sister is the bride - we're the bridesmaids, obviously.

June 1981
Dressing up, Cassian’s sister is the bride – we’re the bridesmaids, obviously.

February 1982 (I think) That Meg and Meg book is the present I got to open :o)

February 1982 (I think)
That Meg and Meg book is the present I got to open :o)

August 1983 We were great at face painting...

August 1983
We were great at face painting…

November 1983 Carrying burning torches at the local fireworks display (only in the 80's would children have been encouraged to walk in a crown with sticks on fire!)

November 1983
Carrying burning torches at the local fireworks display (only in the 80’s would children have been encouraged to walk in a crowd with sticks on fire!)

When we were eight, Cassian got poorly again.  I went to visit her at Guys Hospital again.  I cried at the station on the way home because this time she wasn’t going to get better.  She came home and I am still grateful to both of our parents that they let me visit her there in the evenings after school.  She was in a coma, but I used to hold her hand and read Milly Molly Mandy books to her because the Macmillan nurse who stayed with her explained that she could probably still hear, and I knew she liked Milly Molly Mandy.

Cassian made it to nine years old but she died a week later.

There is a reason I am writing this – well, two, really.

First:  Today would have been Cassian’s 40th birthday.  I don’t know if she is looking down on us or if that is just what we hope about people who have left us.  In case she is though, and just happens to read my blog (well, you just never know!) I want her to know that she may have been gone for a very long time, but I have never forgotten her and she will always be my best, best friend.  And I will try to stop moaning so much about my impending oldness and remember that I (and all of us) are damn lucky to have had so many birthdays to celebrate.

Second: It’s daft, but maybe you could raise a glass / cup of tea / smile to Cassian today?  Nobody’s 40th should go by without lots of people to think of them, wherever they are.

So, from me to my best, best friend:  Happy 40th birthday, Cassian!  :o)

March 1982 Cassian, not terribly enthusiastically blowing a party blower

March 1982
Cassian, not terribly enthusiastically blowing a party blower

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Mirror, mirror on the wall…

I think I probably look in the mirror as much as the next person.  You know….to check that I don’t have food in my teeth, to make sure my mascara ended up where I was aiming for, to make sure my skirt isn’t tucked in my knickers (you just never know, and that’s one of those things that I have sudden panics about while walking up the train platform.)…that sort of thing.  It turns out though that I look and don’t actually see.  Or at least, if I see, I don’t pay the tiniest bit of notice.

I had a phone call the other day. I won’t give you the details (mainly because this could end up being the biggest ‘what the hell was I thinking?’ moment of my life), but basically months and months ago I dropped a line to a tv company about a programme.  So they called, and I passed the first ‘interview’.  So then I had a second, longer one.  The lady I was talking to said we’d start with the really easy questions, which was good.  It was last thing on Friday and my brain had most definitely started the weekend.  And this is how it went:

Her: ‘What colour is your hair?

Me: ‘Blonde.  Nope, it’s not been blonde for years.  Um, it’s out of a bottle….chilli chocolate.  Nope.  Not that either, that’s the summer colour.  Plum!  It’s plum.  It’s definitely plum.  So no, not blonde.  More…purple.’

Her: *sounding slightly bemused*  ‘OK. You’re sure about that?’

Me: ‘I am’ (I didn’t think it was the right time to mention that actually Tesco were out of ‘Plum’ last week, so I’ll be going ‘Black cherry’ soon.  It also might have highlighted the fact that I chose my hair dye based on food names…)

Her: ‘Right, I thought that was an easy question, but maybe not.  So here’s one that really is easy: What colour are your eyes?’

Me: ‘Um….could I just go and check in the mirror please?’

I genuinely didn’t know if my eyes were blue or green.  And I couldn’t picture my hair at all.  When you consider how much I obviously don’t look at my reflection, it’s really quite surprising that I’ve not gone to work with my skirt tucked in my knickers before…

Somehow I don’t think I’ll be hearing from the tv company again, but if I do, I’ll tell you all about it :o)

me

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What was I thinking?!

Everyone knows when you give up smoking you need to keep busy. Yesterday I was lucky enough to have a play date with this gorgeous young man:

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But mostly (surprise, surprise) I have been making. A scarf, a minion hat, a bobble hat, my blanket and….I thought I would try sewing again.  I probably should have started with a pattern I knew as it was this that drove me to one of those rogue cigarettes last week.

I had decided to make yoga trousers. The pattern wasn’t good, but what I didn’t realise was that the pattern was American. To cut a long story short involving cutting out entire seams, throwing the half made garment across the room and repeatedly deciding to throw it all in the bin, due to my confusion with the U.S. / UK sizing, I ended up with a pair of size 20 yoga trousers. I could have got two of me in them. We fixed this….but I was left with one undeniable fact: lack of cigarettes had affected my judgement in the material choosing department and the trousers that finally fitted and were incredibly comfortable were…pink. What was I thinking?  The last time I wore pink trousers I was about 7. I can remember them clearly. They were from Clothkits and head a matching stripy jumper. And I wore them in a school play where I was an elephant which, for some reason had to sing about balancing on a spiders web. In French. On my own. It wasn’t my finest moment, on many levels….

So now I have some trousers in the same shade, over 30 years later. I will never wear them outside Pog Towers, but even inside, when I put them on, I can hear the first line of that song….I’ve even managed to find it, should you have a pair of pink trousers at home and would like to join in…. :o)

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And here’s the Minion hat, which is probably the more successful bit of  makingness of the last week and a bit (although due to a lack of yellow wool in my stash, he is a little radio active looking….)

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Now I am off to attempt a bit more sewing. Nothing pink this time, though :o)

Posted in crochet, Pog Life | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

I’m giving up…

If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it properly.  Well, most of the time, anyway.  Which is why I seem to be taking this giving up thing to the extreme.

On my recent yoga retreat we discussed caffeine intake and I realised that, based on other people’s reactions, 12 cups of coffee and up to 10 teas a day was more than a little excessive, so a couple of weeks ago I cat down to four and 1, respectively.  Four days after starting that, I stopped smoking.

I don’t deserve a lot of credit – I’ve gone for the belt, braces, zips and buttons approach with patches, an inhalator, e-mails, two apps on my ipad and a number of really patient colleagues who have been getting hourly updates on the number of hours and minutes I’ve achieved and / or how much money I have saved in that time (courtesy of my app).  It is taking will power too though, especially in grumpy / stressful / happy / needing a break moments.  OK, it’s still taking quite a bit of willpower, but I’ve done 9 days, 19 hours, 16 minutes and  25 seconds as I hit publish on this post.  (Full disclosure:  I have had two in this time- I’m not proud, but I’m not starting the clock from those times as it’s still 292 less than I would have had)

I know it has all sorts of health benefits, which are obviously the most important things (my breathy tubes feel ever so silky right now), but there are other side effects that I’d forgotten or not realised from previous attempts to give up. And they are not all good.

Things like:

I can smell better.  I can smell unwashed people at 50 paces, which is not good on a crowded commuter train.  It’s also not good walking up the Strand early in the morning – you wouldn’t believe the number of people who clearly pee on the pavement.

I am warmer.  I can keep my gloves on at all times, I can keep my car window shut and when working from home the heat all stays inside the conservatory rather than escaping out the back door on my cigarette breaks.  Today I only had to wear three jumpers…  (I said warmer, not warm.  Not smoking does not change my toad status)

I have more pennies. I’ve spent all the ones saved so far.  But that’s ok, because it was enough to pay the deposit on a holiday that – if I can keep on this giving up – I’ll have paid for in savings by the time I go.  Twice.

I am less likely to be late*.  Because I don’t have to have ‘one last cigarette’ before I leave the house.  I even made it to the station early enough this week that I could walk from the car to the platform, rather than gallop with a pounding heart that the train might beat me to it.

*Note to Sisters 1, 2 and friends – this will only last as long as it takes for me to remember that I can start getting ready that little bit later…

I can taste things better.  And am remembering that I don’t actually like everything I eat when I can actually taste it.  When, in desperation to nibble something more healthy than biscuits while craving an actual cigarette the other day, I defrosted some celery I’d popped in the freezer for future soup making.  I can confirm with authority that the only thing worse than fresh celery (which I don’t like anyway) is defrosted celery.  Still, it put me off eating anything else for a good 10 minutes…

I can sleep.  At the drop of a hat.  Seriously, this almost entirely lack of stimulants is turning me into a sleep monster.  No more crocheting until 2am…I’m tucked up by 10.30pm and could still happily have 40 winks at my desk if nobody was around.

So there you go, that’s my big news for the moment.  Lots of nicotine but without the smoky stick, less caffeine, and a significant amount of snacking.  I will have to turn sideways to get through doors soon if I manage to keep this up (assuming I can stay awake long enough to make the effort), but I have a plan for that forming in my smoke free brain.  It might not be a very good plan, but either way, you’ll probably hear about it… :o)

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An open letter to the woman incapable of dressing appropriately on a train

I’m turning into a grumpy old lady, but I need to rant again.  There are often people on the train who get on wrapped up ready for the Arctic, don’t think to take off their coat and instead open all the windows without a thought for the people already on the train who have finally managed to defrost from the minus something temperatures outside.  Nothing makes me tut inwardly more (apart from maybe Sniffy Woman, who is still at it – freezer bag and all).  But yesterday’s woman took the biscuit, so:

An open letter to the woman incapable of dressing appropriately on a train:

OK, I admit that as SouthEastern had seen fit to cancel a few trains and funnel everyone to the same train, the one we both ended up on was more than a little crowded.  And maybe you regretted your decision to get a rush hour train with your two small children, mother and two sisters.  But seriously, where did you leave your common sense?  When it is freezing outside, the train company do occasionally think to put the heating on.  On those days, when the train is standing room only, it is going to get a little toasty.  What most people do in these circumstances is remove an outer layer.  They do NOT stand, shouting to their extended family in what looked like a 25 tog, full length puffa jacket done up to their chin and bobble hat that ‘If someone don’t give me their seat I’ll either throw up or pass out’.

Kudos to you though – I’ve not seen commuters move at that speed to offer up their seats before.  And I would have continued to be mildly amused, enjoying the distraction from our sardine status, had you not spent the next 10 minutes shouting to your family (who were incidentally all within a few feet of you and unless they all had serious hearing impediments, could probably have heard if you had talked at a normal level) that you should all get a seat – ‘especially the kids’.  Now, those kids were both under three by my estimation, and when those two other commuters were kind enough to give up their seats, the kids should have gone on the laps of adults – not got their own seat.  For the rest of us standing, you swapped out too tiny people for two full sized ones making sardine status even more sardiney.

Eventually, with the help of the gentleman standing toe to toe with me who also got the giggles at the weird things that continued on the journey (your family’s rather pathetic ‘demands’ over seats for all of you – we did notice you left your poor mum standing, the man hiding a huge bottle of beer in his jacket and trying to sip it surreptitiously, and the couple of legal types with rather upper class and vocal views of the world), I got over my frustration with you.  But please, in future, just take your coat off if you’re overheating.  Maybe even your woolly hat too.  I did both, and we all know I am part toad.

From, Me.

I think grumpiness must get repaid in more things to make you grumpy.  I got off that train where I had been assured that I could pick up a train that would get me home (mine had been cancelled) and to cut a long story short, when I went to find out where it was, I was told by the really helpful SouthEastern staff that they didn’t know because ‘they had lost the train’… (It turned out it was also cancelled.  So was the next one.)

And that was just part way through my three hour journey home.  Hooray for working for home on Tuesdays.  At least I had a days recovery time before doing it all again tomorrow and time to get rid of my grumpiness :o)

I saw this yesterday morning on the train. Ignore the advertising bit and the coughing bit. Maybe it's just a good idea full stop :o)

I saw this yesterday morning on the train. Ignore the advertising bit and the coughing bit. Maybe it’s just a good idea full stop :o)

 

 

 

Posted in opinion, Pog Life, travelling | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments