Catching Up

Whoever thought I would become such a part-time blogger? Remember how this was my world for so long? It seems like it all happened to another person. I used to find so much to talk about, it was really like brain-dumping I guess and one day in the future, when I am much older than now, I will be heartily glad that I can look back at what I wrote on here for several years; let's face it, I probably won't even remember anything about my life then. I don't mean to sound gloomy as I am quite positive these days.

I've almost got my NVQ3 diploma in my little hands. I will be meeting my tutor for a Christmas lunch next week and will be presented with my certificate which will then mean I am officially qualified. I am still at the same nursing home but mainly working with end of life residents - those with just a few days or a week left to live. I've washed a few bodies, have been with many taking their last breaths, have spent time hugging the dying and trying to make them laugh. Death holds no fear for me now - and other cliches like that.

I wish that years ago I had the ambition that I now seem to have developed. I am beginning the 'Revised CV Circulation Exercise'. I began it yesterday and three homes have been in touch with me already. I am looking either to relocate to somewhere like Bristol, Bath or Brighton (the 'B' thing is just a coincidence) or else to try and stay very near to where I am now (in between Maidstone and Rochester in Kent). The next job will hopefully make me a deputy manager and then I need to be sponsored to take the Registered Manager Award diploma. So you see I do have a career path - whoever would have thought that in my fifties I would find Ambition and Determination.

On the man front I have been on so many dates this year. One man I liked very much but he didn't feel the same. Lots of others wished to pursue things, but on my part it would have been just for the sake of it. There's no point with that really. I am still sharing the house with the two bichons and the friend that I met at French Weight Watchers. I've begun going to zumba classes and adore it. The weight has stayed off, no more has been shed but this year was really about maintaining the four stone weight loss before trying to get the last couple off.

All in all it's been an exercise in (hard not to sound cheesy now) getting my life back on track really. I hope anyone reading this can understand that when you think everything has gone tits up there can always be some sort of better time ahead.

So - here I come again...

Here we have an up to date shot instead of those from another era that are scattered hither and thither throughout this neglected blog. It is this picture on a couple of dating sites and I seem to be garnering a bit of attention really. You know the best thing about it all - that my mindset is such that I feel I could get involved with someone once again. For a while back there I just could not see ever wanting to get close to/with a man again.

Work is still going well - the diploma is on the closing stretch now. I have two remaining essays and my tutor will spend the day with me at work on Friday to assess me. She and I have no worries that I will be absolutely fine.

Some of you might recall the English friend that I met at French Weight Watchers last year. She is now sharing the Kent house with me and last month I signed a further six months on the lease, at the end of which I will make a decision about where to relocate. I will then try and get a job up the 'care ladder' and either buy a small place or rent again. Actually I am quite ambivalent about owning a property. It seems far more sensible to rent and then perhaps move once again a year or so later - again trying to climb up the mature career path. At least in the world of the elderly, death and the dying being a bit older is a real advantage. There are lovely care homes everywhere and no shortage of jobs - well, not at the basic entry level. My challenge will be in entering the world of management - but I did it within the London office world, thus I am sure I will eventually do it in another sector.

I will try and pop around to you all in the next couple of day and I'll try and make these entries a bit more frequent.

It's all good, people

A catch-up

Isn't this rotten - I don't come and visit you (I've popped in here and there though) and then do a post after three months. I'm doing it as much for me as to reach out to you lot - in the years to come I will look back at my blog and remember how my life panned out, this is a dear diary really...


It is now four months since Mr FF chose to leave He is living with someone else now and is very happy and settled. I've been on a couple of 'dates' and my profile on these dating sites seems to get me a lot of attention, but I am quite a fussy person. I'm not even sure what exactly I am looking for - but I guess I will know it when I meet him.

Work at the nursing home is going well but it does make me very tired. I do long days now, working from 7 - 7 with two 15 minute breaks and 30 mins for lunch. I do a few of these a week and sadly have to leave the bichons alone for some 13 hours. This is easy to type but it has been very hard to come to terms with. I looked into various options (neighbours, paying people to pop in, rehoming) but, at the proverbial end of the day, they have each other, pads are down on the floor for wees (although they have been very good at holding on to it so far), they get a longish walk at 5am (yes, I get up at 4.30 on my long days) and again at 7.30. Plus, on my days off, they have my more or less undivided attention. If I go out I bundle them into their look out seats in the car and they either come with me where I go or stay in the carpark somewhere, barking happily at passers-by.

Work is also sponsoring me in an NVQ in Health and Social Care. Every two weeks I go to a college where I am instructed in stuff and have essays to submit. Many of my fellow students seem thick as anything to me and seem to have trouble grasping the simplest of concepts. I know a lot of academics sneer at these NVQs (non vocational qualifications) and they seem very easy compared to the OU courses I did. When I asked my tutor if she preferred the Harvard referencing system in my essay she had no idea what I was talking about - still, I sound a bit contemptuous here and I really do not mean to be. My plan is to get this bit of paper (sometime in September), by which time I will have been working in care for about a year. I then think I will try and get a job as a deputy manager somewhere (usually you need a nursing qualification but I have seen a lot of adverts where this has been waived, as long as the manager is an RGN), I really need a 'better' sort of job.

I never thought I would end up a poorish person. I had a very comfortable, middle-class upbringing and wanted for nothing really. All my money went in France and also on nice living and improvements over there. My parents tried to drum into me the value of money and it is only now that their words ring in my head. Still, I got there in the end; I am very proud of my new budgeting skills.

My weight loss has more or less stabilised at four stone. This is mainly due to the fact that a couple of months ago I joined a gym and even though my shape is changing for the better and I am losing body fat, because of the increased muscle tone (there must be some muscles somewhere, surely) the actual loss on the scales does not reflect how I am looking. I have been busy selling off my former 'fat clothes' on e-bay; these nice clothes sell for a fraction of what I paid for them but it is still cash coming in and it saves them just hanging around here. I did a flying visit to the French house a little while ago to bring back some things to sell - I've flogged some jewellery that belonged to my mother, some presents I was given, a few other bits and pieces. Things I thought would be mine to pass on to someone have now ended up being sold - but we do what we can to get by and it was indeed necessary.

Oh my blogging friends, I have missed you but really did not feel in the mood for talking about my life. It must be a good sign I guess that I am now able to.

The end of a marriage

Mrs Fancy becomes Miss Fancy and returns to her original blog. Incidentally I have deleted my second blog -please remove it from your sidebar as it won't lead anywhere.

Therapy through blogging commences...

I was tempted - and then I gave in

It's difficult sometimes. You mean to be strong and not give in but then something happens and that weak person within comes stumbling out.

Yesterday, barely 48 hours after joining Glowria, my little white envelope was placed in the post box - the envelope containing my four selected films for the month (unlike a lot of online dvd clubs, Gloria send you your quota all at once - then on the 28th of each month I get my next lot).

I didn't receive Vicky Christina Barcelona in this lot. I got Thirteen, Borat, Milk and - joy of joys - Julie and Julia. Now, I'd already told Mr FF that this would be our Saturday or Sunday thing - catching up on movies and I'd promised myself that I would not watch anything until he was back home (he comes and goes rather). Oh, but I love Meryl more than any other actress and I'd wanted to see J&J ever so much.

Yes - last night I sat and revelled in one of the best films I've seen in ages. I knew the outline of the film but I didn't know it would feature the joy of blogging so much. It also has another of my favourites in it - Jane Lynch; you might know her as Sue in Glee.

I might even have to buy this film, that's how much I enjoyed it.

It's my birthday

I've never been alone for my birthday before. There have either been parents, boyfriends, friends, colleagues or Mr FF to spend the time with and give a vague feeling (well, not so vague on lots of occasions - I've always celebrated with gusto - don't you just love that word?) that a special day was being recognised.

I'm meeting my m-i-l for coffee this morning, but that is the extent of anything I will be doing. She invited me round for a meal but, to be honest, now I am going to Wednesday Weight Watchers I don't like to eat too much the night before.

This introspective birthday state of mind makes me think of a job I once had (in the sales office of a wine company in Camden) when nobody was free in the evening to come to the pub with me to have a birthday drink. I went home and felt very sorry for myself. I was about 22, outgoing and okay to look at (photo* below of how I looked around this time); in fact my desk faced a street along which quite a few people passed, most of them men because we were next door to a garage that repaired luxury cars. It got to be quite entertaining peeking out at people and on a few occasions some of the owners of these cars came into reception and asked to have a few words with the curly headed girl they could see as they went by? I only actually went out with one of these chancers though - I called him Conrad the Cadillac (as that was his name and his car) and it was a short-lived thing. the moral of this tale being - never go out with someone who has admired you through a window**.



*curious to see a few other photos? - look here, but you might have seen them before

**unless it is a window in a certain area of Amsterdam and they are your key to a new life

Edited to add the plant that just got delivered, sent by a certain someone

The nervous tummy of excitement

When you first fell in love and had to be away from your adored for a day, days, weeks - and you were going to be seeing them in eight hours, do you remember the little knot of excitement that gradually built up in the days preceeding your reunion? That is me today because I am off to Paris in a few hours.

I've dusted off my Mulberry bag, not seen out of the cupboard for years, the Rocket Dogs have been abandoned for Roberto Cavalli boots* (also covered with dust despite being in a wardrobe) and my favourite gloves have come out of their box (black calf with a scarlet lining and cuff). I am going to the capital 1.7kg lighter than last week (3.75lbs) and my m-i-l is kindly doggy sitting. All this makes me feel a bit like a nervy teenager. I know it's silly but I've just got out of the city mode, despite a few trips to London and Paris over the time we've been here. Today just feels different.

The photo above is of my favourite thing in the whole of Paris (although there is much that almost rivals it in my mind). It is of the fountain in the Place de la Concorde and I have a similar shot (but without the people and the buildings and including the other fountain with the woman figures as well) as a huge framed poster in our hall. I can walk round this fountain for a long long time and never get fed up seeing it - just click on the photo to see a magnified version of OTT brilliance that to me symbolises Paris - the most beautiful city which I have ever seen. It far surpasses my home town of London, which has become cluttered with ugly buildings in the centre. Paris is open with its huge boulevards and avenues and - despite the odd modern monstrosity - has kept its C18/19 charm intact.


*Oh no they haven't - my feet must have spread because after two hours of wearing pointy black leather boots with heels my toes are hurting. Rocket Dogs back on now and at least they are colourful and comfortable.

Bichon Jekyll and Hyde

Looking at this sweet sleeping Poppy bichon you wouldn't imagine that sometimes she can turn into a real Mr Hyde. This dog is the rescue dog that I have blogged about quite a lot in the past. She was badly treated for the first two years of her life and has a lot of 'isms'. One of them is that she gets very upset and hysterical when people leave. She loves them arriving and doesn't want them to go away. Consequently each time a visitor gets up to leave there are ructions and growls and she has to be restrained.

My m-i-l is not very confident with dogs and the Poppy situation sometimes worries her. I think Pop can sense this and is sometimes extra cross that m-i-l is going. Pop thinks 'I know, if I tear at her clothes a bit she will have to stay' - yes, bloggers, we recently had an 'incident'.

Tomorrow Pop and Misty will both be spending the afternoon at m-i-l's as an experiment. She will come and go quite often and see if Poppy is a bit calmer. If it all works out okay then she will agree to look after them for a long weekend next month so that I can go to Paris and stay with Mr FF (who was home last weekend and it was good to be together again)


Here is another sleepy photo - and yes, they are spoilt for choice with their daytime beds

Keeping myself busy

I know I am very behind with visiting all you lovely people but it has been a conscious decision. It would be very easy for me - with Mr FF now in Paris- to sit here all day long, going from one blog to another and, indeed, investigating new ones. The thing is that I don't want to turn to the internet to keep me occupied. Instead I have been doing some OU course work - writing poetry (which I adore), sorting out boxes and boxes of stuff crammed into cupboards and generally pottering around. The only new skill I practiced has been the bleeding of the bathroom radiator and it was fine.

One problem I have had occurred yesterday when I fell on the icy balcony step and banged my head, neck and arm. Of course I did what anyone self-respecting woman does - burst into tears - and then crawled back into the living room on all fours. 24 hours later I don't think any lasting damage has happened but I am having trouble putting my left arm behind my back (will have to go bra-less for a few days I reckon, swinging proudly) and my fingers are a little numb - hence not wanting to type too much at the moment.

Oh well, at least I won't have to dig my snow-bound car out because I don't think I could turn the wheel safely. I hope you have all fared a bit better.

I didn't want to end the year on a viral

We should all ring out the bells and celebrate this joyous day. I know it's not party time for New Year's Eve yet, but that is not why I am rejoicing anyway.

I now know how to attach a toilet float, bleed a radiator and my chest of drawers with the drawer that I yanked on and broke has now been swapped with those belonging to Mr FF. My lessons in extracting the OU zip files via Windows - the only thing this OS is used for in our household - will take place later, as will mastering the sound system connected to the projector. It's the toilet float I am most happy about though - whoever would have thought that being able to click a green plastic end into a white plastic spool at the bottom of a toilet cistern would have made me grin with sheer delight.

Mr FF will leave here about 6am Sunday morning and is booked into a Paris hotel; a subsequent flat share for a few weeks in Paris is all set up, which takes the heat off and leaves me time to make appointments for him to view prospective studios at his leisure, which we can then furnish with all our spare stuff - a taste of home for him.

Fellow bloggers - I hope 2010 brings you a few crumbs of comfort, some glasses of cheer, a tickle and a cuddle and a lot of happy moments. We can never expect perpetual happiness - it would get boring - let's just ask for a few laughs over the next twelve months and many happy meetings in the blogosphere

Bisous à tous

Blogging about daily life suits me fine

A blogger whom I visit regularly - well his site anyway - thinks that people blogging about their daily life is quite dull. He prefers to deal with important matters in the world today and I like to read his views and also the comments that have been left. However, personally, I much prefer the inconsequential, la vie quotidienne*, the micro aspects that people encounter - their worries, hopes and silly jaunts.

We've not much time here at Fancy Towers for silly jaunts - it is next Sunday that Mr FF will take himself off to Paris ready to begin his new job there. We've not been able to find him somewhere suitable to rent - even though I have left dozens of messages, voice mails, emails and - in the end - got into a nervous irritable state about my lack of success. It was all to do with this Xmas and new year lark; people just have not been around. He - with so much on his plate (he is working at home to finish something before he starts this new position) is trying to allay my fears by telling me he'll be just fine in a hotel to begin with. So be it; I just wanted him settled, that's all.

Anyway, on our noticeboard is my list of things that I must be shown before he leaves:

How to attach the toilet float (see previous entry)

How to bleed the radiator

How to unzip my marked OU essay (my notepad runs on Firefox and to get my essay I need to go to one of our workhorse machines in the basement office. One of the machines has the dreaded Windows - every techie's loathed operating system).

How to play music through the big sound system connected to the projector in the living room (for when my ears are sore from my mp3 headphones).

Once these four things have been explained to me I'll know that I am ready for this life as a Person Alone. Until then even going to the toilet will contain a little knot of worry.


*gosh, people throwing in French phrases is just so pretentious

Me versus the toilet

Whilst Mr FF is spending a couple of days in Paris getting acquainted with his office and his team, ready to start there for real on 4th January, I've come up against my first hurdle. Every house has at least a couple of things that are not as straightforward as they should be. One of our little problems can be the toilets.

First of all you have to realise that I am the least handy person in the world. I can't wire a plug, change a fuse, put up a shelf - all that sort of thing is a mystery to me. I grew up in the sixties and girls were not then taught woodwork,electrical and plumbing basics or how to wield a hammer; on the other hand I am a good cook and can run a home quite well - who says gender sterotyping is a waste of time?

Back to the toilet - for the last couple of years both the upstairs and downstairs loo have developed an intermittent problem. They keep flushing and left unattended would just go on for hours and we would have the most horrendous water bill. Most times a couple of presses of the knob is all that it takes to make it stop. Occasionally this fails to work and Mr FF removes the top and fiddles about in the wet bit with all the levers and knobs - this does the job. My biggest worry about Mr FF being away is that the toilet will perform its major problem - yes, this did happen yesterday evening.

I only had a moment of mild panic before I eventually unscrewed the silver screw on top, lifted off the cistern lid and tried to scrabble around to re-attach the left side lever that had come adrift. I couldn't find what to hook it on to though - I tried all sorts of variations and the wretched thing refused to click into place. I did however press everything else that was inside and pressable and lo and behold I got the flushing to stop. So, the downstairs loo is now out of action but at least there isn't the sound of the perpetual pump in the background.

So I guess in my first household challenge I got around 6/10 - I solved part of the problem but didn't resolve it to my satisfaction.

Must do better