People

At a time when I am most determined to lose weight I filled my house with people and cooked wonderful meals.  I will be fat forever but I will have lots of friends.

Mulberry House, with its nine bedrooms, is designed to have guests.  We love entertaining.  Well, I do and Mr Smith likes the idea of it but he then shouts at me.  I think I have put a stop to that as it is an unattractive trait that makes our guests feel uncomfortable.  I shouted back.

And now I fancy an adventure.  

Thumbs up

We went to France for the day. We ate France and bought loads of lovely food so we can continue to eat more France.  Oh lovely teeny mini petit vacance.  What a lovely day.

Yesterday I was just settling down to a little snooze and something like doctors for mental stimulation when the Best Boy arrived at the back door pouring blood.  I rushed him to hospital where he had an X-ray and a smart bandage on his very minor injury to a thumb.  I was so stressed by the whole thing I had to go to the pub and exceed the dose.  We then had Chinese takeaway and I polished off a huge bar of french chocolate.  I may well explode.  It was gorgeous.

Mr Smith didn't really get my concern.  He had been at his nice cosy London office all day.  Actually, he is frightful in a crisis so just as well.  However, a bit of "there, there it's all better now" would not have gone amiss.  From him?  Silly me.

Wet wet wet

Our pump works a treat, non stop.  Mr Smith feeds it by sweeping tidal waves from the cellar floor towards it.  Tomorrow we are going to France for the day and we pray it doesn't rain for one whole day.

Mad Carina is coming to stay and I am SO excited.  I haven't actually told Mr Smith.  His friends are coming too.  A house party - such fun, except for the cooking and cleaning.  I have no idea what to cook.  Maybe we can buy it all in France.

Today I worked out my entire calorie intake for the day.  The sheer effort should burn off a million calories.  One day I will be thinner and my clothes will magically fit.

Fatty Birthday

He had a birthday then I had a birthday.  We went to Tenterden on his and Margate on mine. Oh how it rained.  I still had a magical day, ate a vast amount of birthday cake and got loads of wonderful pressies and cards.

I put on 2lbs in weight which wouldn't have mattered that much but it was the second week of my diet - useless!

 Our cellar is full of water.  I told Mr Smith to get a pump.  He did.  It doesn't work.  Time to bale again I fear.  Wellies on.

A relapse

I was better ... for a day.  So I had a drink and it hit me BAM.  I had a two day awful hangover with the headache from hell.  I was floored.  Day one was spent in bed and day two on the sofa.  I still have the remnants of the headache on Day 3.  I honestly thought I was recovering from the deadness of my beloved dog but I think it was one of those situations when your brain catches up.  People get migraines over Christmas when the stress of the build up stops.  It is as you destress that the headache catches you.  My god it was a corker.

So all in all I haven't been good for much since we got back from India.  We had one lovely day out in Canterbury when it was sunny. We found a lovely gallery and the cathedral was beautiful and we said prayers for our departed friend.  And that was the last time I felt sad.  Well, I am not ready to talk  about his death or look at too many photos but I am getting better.  The realisation that my dog was more popular than me on Facebook is a bit of an eye opener - need more friends?

I have joined Slimming World with a view to reducing size of backside.  We will see.  Nice friends.  I will give it my best shot.

Today my hairs are to be dressed - Levi Roots.  Party with Mr Smith in London tomorrow and we are staying with sensible Alison.  Ed is fishing.  I wish I wasn't so bloody fat.

The terrible void

Tried to pull myself together.  Went for a walk in the pouring rain with tears streaming down my face.  Met Alcoholic Andy (recovering) at the seaside who tells me his Alsation is on his last legs and was supposed to be put down yesterday but has made a sudden recovery ... temporarily.  Dogs do that.

I wrote a list of things to do: wash hair, moisturise suntanned body; deal with laundry; wash up; go for a walk; make juice; paint a painting.  I managed it all except the painting.  When I got out the book and the paints the energy dwindled and I just couldn't quite face it.  I will try again tomorrow.

I am still very very sad.  I need loving.  I miss my darling dog.  

Dear dog

What's a dog?  A bit of animated fluff on a string upon which you lavish love.  So much love.
Oh the void, the presence of death hanging in the atmosphere of this house.  I have to get out.  I am imprisoned in misery, engulfed in grief.  I cannot function properly.  My head aches as though it has an axe sticking through half my brain.  16 hours sleep a day still isn't enough.  I want my dog.  He has gone.  I loved him so much and he loved me back.  I cry all the time.  I need to do something else, go somewhere else.  I will walk to the sea.  I will walk back.  There will be no dog to greet me on my return.  There was a dead pigeon on the path.  How did it die? I was supposed to move it; I didn't.  Something has dragged it away in the night.  I now feel remiss for being unable to perform the most mundane task but I couldn't deal with any more death.  I think it was too much for me.  To be honest getting out of bed is too much for me.  I might stay here all day.  The duvet mops up the tears quite satisfactorily.