Just to pass the time...

Started this as when I used to get back from work, I was usually so hyped I couldn't sleep for a couple of hours. Now just sort of carried it on for the fun, I try to make it funny, if it isn't please don't hurt me... Anyway, try to enjoy :)

Wednesday 26 August 2015

My nan

I wanted to post something in dedication to my nan, who isn't very well at the moment however some of my favourite childhood memories include her.

She suffers from vascular dementia so she doesn't remember an awful lot. The last time I saw her she refused to believe I was her granddaughter as I was far too old and her poppelschöne is only a little girl.

Poppelschöne is German for darling. My nan is from Germany.

She moved to England after meeting my grandad and falling in love. After he ran over her with an army vehicle in the clean up operation after World War Two.

Before you ask....yes, she was in the Hitler Youth. 

According to my grandad, my nan used to skip everywhere, stopping to smell every flower and give every living thing a name and a personality.

So that's where I get that from....

Thats the only time I really heard anything like that from my grandad. He and my nan never actually seemed to get on all that well. They call each other "Nulli"

That means "toilet" in German. 

My nan has always been notorious for her love of alcohol. She was rarely sober but never quite drunk. My mum says the only time she's ever seen her drunk after having known her around 19 years was at my mum and dad's wedding 17 years ago. Apparently she got totally shitfaced. 

Go nan!

Obviously dementia develops quite gradually. So in my living memory, my Nan's never really had a perfect memory.

Every time we were given ketchup, it was around 6 years out of date. It's probably 90% of the reason I don't like ketchup actually....

One time she gave me a cheese board so I could make my own sandwiches for dinner. I was adamant that something didn't taste right, but was met with protests of "nonsense, nonsense! Eat your dinner up and you can have biscuits!" I was around 9 years old at the time. Finally, my nan tasted my sandwich and realised.

"Oh sheisse. Oh crumbs...mutti mutti mutti!"
"What is it, Omi?"
"This appears to be brandy butter..."

It was just after Christmas so I can see how she got mixed up in all fairness.

Who could forget the time we made meringues together? I had to go home just after we put them in the oven but i was reassured that they would be there when I came next, ready to eat with whipped cream. 

A few weeks later I went round and burst through the door looking for my meringues (I have a massive sweet tooth).  When I asked my nan about them, she couldn't remember a thing. 

I looked in the aga only to find 6 piles of soot on a baking tray. 

One time I was round her house and was clearing out a cupboard filled with mouse droppings.
"Nonsense! They're chocolate!" 
They were 100% definitely mouse droppings.....
I got to the back of the cupboard and found 9 purses, each with around €200 inside....

Turns out each time my nan went to Germany, she stored her purse away for the next time she went, and then forgot it was there. Each time she bought a new purse. Each time she put it to the back of the cupboard.

She was so embarrassed at her failing memory she paid me £20 not to tell my parents...

Naturally, I still told them, and they laughed at forgetful old Omi and her dopey old ways

It's just the way she's always been!

Now she's in a specialist care home known as an EMI unit. She's always been stubborn and has worked her whole life so didn't take kindly to being looked after.

In hospital she kept running off to clear up the dinner things and she would often be found "tsk"ing about the state of a chair and attempting to clean it.

It's definitely best she's in a care home. One day she decided she wanted some ice cream, however thought she'd strain it first. She put it in a plastic strainer and left it on the aga to warm up.....

That didn't go down too well to say in the least.

We also caught her drinking neat bacardi by the glass full. We'd thought it was water.....

Yeah, she'd go on walks and get lost so it's great she's being looked after and she's happy where she is.

She has a friend who she watchs soaps with and cuddles.

But having smoked all her life, she did miss her ciggies. One day, she was out for a walk and saw a bloke with a cigarette. She walked over, pinched it out from his mouth and pegged it. 

She's bloody quick, my nan. You'd have a hell of a time trying to catch her...

She runs away from the care home staff too. It takes several of them to catch her. 

We bought her her very own ciggies so she's all okay.

She was ecstatic when we brought her a bottle of gin. She may not recognise me but she sure as hell knows a bottle of gin when she sees it. The staff put it away in the cupboard and within 5 minutes she was trying to get in there. 

She always has forgotten how old i am. When I was 13 she wanted me to drive her to Lidl. She also took my grandads joking suggestion of a whiskey after I declined tea or coffee seriously. 

When I was 8 she gave me a liqueur chocolate filled with vodka and I thought my throat was being burned away. 

Two days before my 14th birthday I had a frantic phone call apologizing for forgetting my birthday. It took 20 minutes to explain to her that she hadn't missed it yet.

For my 15th I received 2 birthday cards as she'd forgotten she'd already sent one.

She gets annoyed at my dad and grandad a lot and isn't afraid to call them "gesamt Sheissköpfe".

"Total shitheads."

She would complain a lot at hospital about how the nurses were simply doing everything wrong. And thus she had to put the sheets on her own bed and God forbid anyone tries to help her.

My little nan has always made me laugh and still manages to do so, with her pretending to be asleep every time my dad comes to visit, her naughty mishaps and her pure stubbornness. 






Sunday 23 August 2015

Drunken Rambling

So last night I received, hands down, the single most hilarious phone call I have ever had the fortune to receive in my entire 16 years of existence in this world.

Unfortunately, I'm the only member of this conversation that actually remembers what was said.

You can probably guess where this is going....

When I asked what Danny actually remembered from the conversation, he said "I vaguely remember calling you miss piggy, or I dreamt it, or something"

The more worrying part is that, no, he hadn't dreamt it. That part did actually happen. 

Receiving a drunk phone call from your 
ex boyfriend / very good friend at 00:15 may not seem like most people's idea of a hilariously noteable event, but honestly, this was too funny. And the best part is, he doesn't remember a thing. Which is half the reason I'm doing this now. Because I'm evil.

Just casually reading a crappy romance novel that my mum bought on my kindle when my phone buzzed and I nearly had a heart attack.

I answer it knowing it's Danny, because caller ID, 21st century and all that jazz an I'm met with "HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI!!!!!"

So after saying hello, my first words were "Danny, are you drunk?"

In a rather too excitable tone, he reminded me that he did not drink. I accepted that, unconvinced, before I heard "HEY GUESS WHAT?! SHE'S BUYING IT!!!"

Yep. He was drunk. For the first time, as he told me.

I shouted out my hellos to his best friend Jason, who I was told wasn't there by Danny, only to receive a clear "Hello Robyn!" in a voice that distinctly belonged to Jason.

It was explained to me that the boys had shared a bottle of Jack Daniels. That's 7 or so shots each. I know for a fact that they finished it as there was a "FUCK!" down the phone after a little while.

Upon enquiring of the nature of the curse word, I was told that Danny had in fact, just whacked himself around the face with an empty Jack Daniels bottle. I reminded him of this once he'd sobered up, and apparently this must be the cause of his mysterious bleeding lip. At the time all I could hear was loud sobs and moans and shouts of "You don't know how much this hurts, Robyn. You couldn't even imagine this kind of pain. Nothing compares to the pain I'm in right now!"

What a nutter.

After being quite the gentleman and asking how I was, and what was going on, he decided to ask me when we were getting married. This is in relation to my friend Jazmine having once stolen my phone and texted Danny all the lyrics to Bruno Mars's "Marry You", to which Danny said yes.

Sooo, I'm engaged I guess? Not weird at all...

We also have a life plan together to live on a canal boat like Rosie and Jim. Danny proceeds to invite me canal boat shopping with him, and asks me to bear him his muppet children.

Pity me please. I had to go along with this. He told me he could picture me giving birth to Kermit the Frog!

This is where the Miss Piggy part comes in. He tells me that I can be Miss Piggy and he can be Gonzo. I said what about Animal, but apparently Animal just wasn't significant enough for Drunk Danny and he simply had to be Gonzo. I delivered the role of Animal to Jason. 

Sober Danny was most disappointed with Drunk Danny about this. Apparently he should have been Pepe the King Prawn. 

At some point Jason left for a walk, after Danny asked if he was allowed to crawl. Danny being Danny, he decided to pass up on a walk. 

"HEY ROBYN I LOST MY DEBIT CARD AGAIN!" was an exclaimation made a few minutes later, and I was told about how he'd been skipping down the road, as incredibly masculine, not at all camp in the slightest, 18 year old guys do, you know, aaaand it fell out of his pocket somewhere along the line.

For the third time in a week. 

He sounded so blessed proud of himself as well.

Conversation was weird but not like "i hit myself round the face with a bottle" weird. He told me all about his favourite Disney princess and how he got to meet her on a cruise, etc. We talked about how I hadn't acknowledged his Doctor Who references in the messages he'd sent me the previous day.

I went back and checked and there weren't even any DW references in them. Like, at all. 

I kept laughing and exclaiming how funny he was being, and he got all upset and protective of his sober self, convinced that he was just as funny, not under the influence of a spirit with a high volume of alcohol. Sober Danny was pleased to hear of his commitment to himself, but not too pleased to hear of his later drunk crab jokes which had apparently been stolen from Ricky Gervais. Drunk Danny had found it so funny. Drunk Jason didn't understand why a drunk crab would walk forwards.

Teasing Danny about his lonely drunken state and he says "Whatever, I'll have you know I've already phoned 5 other girls this evening asking them to come buy a canal boat with me." I was like "oh, well i see how it is!" And he replied "Joking, i love you!" How rude.

Somehow, the topic of siblings came up, and after telling me how mean his brother could be, I told him the anecdote of my 3 year old thug of a brother stomping on my boob and leaving a Sketcher shaped bruise in a compromising place.

"Wait, what did you say?" He asked. "I didn't quite catch that last bit"

"I said he stomped on my chest and it bruised."

"NO YOU DIDNT YOU LITTLE LIAR YOU! YOU SAID BOOB! You said BOOB!"

Danny got very excited over this for some strange reason. I put this down to jealousy at his lack of said female organs. 

Jason came back and I heard a weird exchange between them.

"Jason, seriously! STOP EATING THE HAEMEROID CREAM GOD DAMN IT!"

"Fucks sake Danny, shut up, it's not even haemeroid cream!"

"Antiseptic cream then! SAME DIFFERENCE!"

I was listening in trying not to wet myself laughing. Honestly, it was too much.

There was a discussion about how I thought Danny should go and dunk his head in a bucket of ice water so that he'd calm down, and somehow this led to me dissing ALS, and "come on, admit it, Robyn. You stuck a "kick me" sign on the back of Steven Hawking's wheelchair. You cruel cruel person."

1+1=368845. Drunk Danny maths xD

Asking Danny what he intended to do the following day and I was told "Not nursing the hangover. Because as I've told you, I'M NOT DRUNK!"

Nice try. 

He said he'd try and meet me in Canterbury the following afternoon. But I'm 100% sure he forgot. Seeing as he wasn't there. As I predicted xD

There was a loud noise followed by "Oh no, not the matches! Pick em up, quick!" I warned them not to set anything on fire. Even now, I'm not sure what the purpose of the matches was.

I asked them where they were, and Danny pipes up "Well we're not at Jason's house. That's for sure."

So naturally they were at Jason's house.

It struck me to ask Jason how on Earth his family hadnt woken up with all the racket. Drunk Danny exclaims "ROBYN! We've talked about this! His family are dead!"

Jason starts laughing

"They died in a house fire!"

Lauging increases

"Which I started"

Aaaand Jason is laughing so much I feared he would bust a gut or something.

There was a point where Danny starts calling us the wrong names. Somehow, Jason became Jenny. I don't even know....

After around 50 minutes on the phone, Danny told me he was falling asleep so had better go, followed by a lot of drunken "I love you"s. I hung up and wondered what the fuck I had just experienced.

I hope people find this half as funny as I did. Just imagine Danny as a hyper ball of energy and that might put into place just what he is like drunk. Forget all woozy. It's more like an ecstasy effect!

Sorry Danny and Jason! At least you know what happened now!

Peace ✌️


Saturday 22 August 2015

The ever-present bane of my life

Two posts in one night! I must be going insane!

No, I've been insane for a long time now, sunshine. Get used to it.

So this is kind of a bit more serious, but I'll try and keep it light. The past few months haven't been the biggest bundle of laughs for me. Not only was there exams, dramatic family, relationships with people fluctuating, but there was my back.

I've mentioned it before but the past month especially has been an out-of-control downhill spiral. Beforehand it was bearable but this, this, just makes me miserable like all of the time.

I kept going to the doctors, and told to take ibuprofen. Then they decided codeine was in order. I was told to buy a microwaveable wheat bag so I could ease the pain with heat. I bought one in the shape of a floral owl which smells pleasantly of lavender, how refreshing.

I decided to name him Baymax, as he's my personal healthcare assistant. The sadder/younger readers will understand the reference.

The doctor's refused to send me for an x-ray due to the high cancer risk. Oh. Cheers. I was constantly reminded that my age and gender put me at a higher risk of ovarian cancer. Well I'd be impressed if a guy contracted ovarian cancer, but you know, it's still annoying.

They diagnosed we with chronic pain and sent me to a physio who told me I was too young for her to do anything, it was outside her contract. FANDABBYDOZY. She told me it was just my muscles and no scoliosis or deformities. Apparently I must have had a growth spurt! xD Thanks for that, but your comments didn't help.

I started wearing a back brace after my dad's constant getting on my case about my posture. Also, I kept just going floppy. This thing kept me upright, and also prevented me from moving dodgily.

I showed up at my doctor's again last week unable to eat or sleep and having lost the will to live. Turns out I'd contracted a stomach infection called Gastritis, meaning my stomach lining was inflamed and sore and being attacked by stomach acid, making me feel sick every time I ate anything.

The reason I'd got this? Ibuprofen. It's a medication called an NSAID which can cause stomach infections if a person has a weaker tolerance to them. Which I apparently do. I rarely took it, only at night when I was writhing around, so I must have had a really low tolerance.

I was given a repeat prescription for co-codemol as an alternative painkiller, and I was given PPI tablets to neutralise my stomach acid to allow it to heal.

PPI stands for like everything I swear. Insurance on your payment, medication, breast implants. Which apparently I need, according to my charming mother.

I was also finally referred to the hospital for my x-ray.

But not before being reminded how reluctant they were to do this due to the extraordinarily high risks.

It's like having to choose: blinding pain or the chance of contracting cancer.What a great choice, it's a win win situation, of course.

So I showed up to my x-ray and was told that I'd be better be going to a different hospital which used a digital monitor as it was far safer for a young girl like me. The second I walked through the door to the department, they looked at me with pity and I honestly felt like some sort of sob story.

So I had to check on a hospital gown, remove my bra (which I wasn't impressed about) and walk to the x-ray table with they gown trailing along the floor, listening to my mum shouting "ATTRACTIVE! It's not wonder you don't have a boyfriend!" Cheers, mother

I had to lie on my side on that table with my arse hanging out the slit in the gown, in the foetal position. I lay like that for 10 minutes, even after the flash. I was told:

"We usually take two pictures but I'm just taking the one as you're such a high cancer-risk case that I'm not going to risk it. You may get a letter in the post saying we want you back for the second photo. But don't worry. It's nothing to worry about."

I'M SURE IT'S NOT!

I just have to wait now, googling the signs of ovarian cancer and hoping for the best for my back especially.

The thing is, they could have just sent me for an MRI...which doesn't use radiation...? Or am I being stupid and is my logic flawed...?

We're playing a waiting game and I'm losing.

The reason I'm doing this is I don't think people understand how it is that I really feel. Hopeless is one word. Alone. This is a stupidly unique situation and the thing is, I'm not in pain 5 days a week from 9 till 6. It's 24/7 365. It's always there. The painkillers just take off the edge.Currently, my lumbar spine is in it's usual pain however my right shoulder blade is in an agony I can't even begin to describe it.

I don't want help. I just want people to look out for me. I don't want to have to keep reminding people that I can't do this that and the other and passing, I want to wake up in the morning and find people I care for have arranged to do something suitable for me too.

I don't want unnecessary amounts of attention, this isn't some plea for love and pity, "hey, look at the injured kid!" I just want people to understand how I feel and try and make me feel better. Smiling, laughing, all these things make me feel less like a hopeless, worthless excuse for a human being.

Thursday 20 August 2015

Living the sweet life

It was pointed out to me that I haven't done an update in a while. This is simply down to my pure laziness and procrastination at the prospect of forming words after the tragedy that was my GCSEs.

Also, my mum borrowed my laptop for a while. She changed a whole bunch of settings and my search history is now a bit weird. It would appear she looked up "How to make an omelette" on YouTube. My mother is a chef....

So the past month I've spent my life either on Facebook getting my suggestions of fun things we could do that day totally rejected, curled up in some discreet corner with some terrible romantic comedy novel, working, or at the doctor's.

Some of my friends from the years above me warned me that this summer would be hands down the best summer of my life. Well thanks for the false hope. No one seems to have enough energy to do anything.

You've got me, leaping out of bed every morning like a shorter, British, more feminine (although not by much) version of American Dad, while most of my friends roll themselves out of bed at two or three in the afternoon purely because they're hungry. Okay, so the reason I jump out of bed so fast is because my alarm tone is "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons, and trust me, if that went off on full volume while you were asleep, you too would leap out of bed like a startled rabbit and dash to silence it.

But STILL.

I wake up every morning met by piles of greasy pans to be cleaned. The joys of living in a B&B.

I don't tend to get annoyed until I end up being forced to wash up extortionate amounts of crockery. The dishwasher is for the crockery. But this morning being a prime example, all the guests but two decided that they needed to have a bowl of something or rather as well as their cooked breakfast. They simply had to use their side plates to get some toast that they then neglected to eat. It annoys me, throwing away so much food.

In my family, we have a system. I don't like tomatoes so I give them to my mum. My brother doesn't like onion so he gives it to me. Full up? Pass your plate over to the boys, more commonly known as the "human vacuum cleaners". My older brother Jake is the worst. If we have a roast dinner he always has to plate his last otherwise my mum fears there will be none left for the rest of the family.

I tend to take my annoyance out on my parents. After all, they accepted these annoying, crockery-utilising individuals in to our home. They find it rather comical, my little angry spurts of "Really?? Did they NEED to use all of these bowls?? LIKE MUM'S PORTIONS AREN'T BIG ENOUGH ALREADY!!"

My mum chuckles and said this morning "It's a tough life for little Cinders", which did nothing,nothing to improve my little strop.

Yes. That's my nickname. Cinders. 

I mea
n I suppose it could be worse. The implication is that I've just got to wait to lose my shoe while at a party dancing with a handsome chap with a lot of money.

That makes sense actually. I'm constantly losing my shoes, however more on purpose than anything. I'm a bit of a hippy. I detest wearing shoes.

Also it would make sense that the shoe would only fit me out of anyone in the magical kingdom of Kent. My feet are that big.

One flaw is that I don't exactly look like much. Like Cinderella was beautiful, the Prince fell for her at once. I'm a wallflower, I'm not much to look at, you honestly wouldn't single me out in a crowd. No one would really notice me without knowing me first. And then once you know me I'm fucking insane and you won't stop noticing me. "Here I am! Look at me! I'm upside down!" I'm loud around people I'm comfortable with. But if I'm not, you'll end up with this posh little girl using her fringe as a shield to ward of the evil demon of social interaction.

I don't have two evil stepsisters either. Or an evil stepmother. But my mum is pretty evil. She tricks me in to coming to the supermarket for "just a few bits" and we end up trailing around for hours and hours picking out boring things that we totally don't even need like bread and milk. Like, we needed that bouncy castle much more than those mushrooms!

But no one ever listens to little old me.

I'll show them.....

So I guess now I actually have to go to parties to have some sort of chance of meeting this dude who's gonna make me into this fab princess and give me magical talking cleaning accessories which clean the pans while I have a nice chat with them about the weather, twiddling my thumbs.

Now THAT I could get used to.