A bun in the oven :D

Well......

First things first. To all those people who, over the last 7 weeks or so, we've lied to, hidden from, fobbed off or otherwise.... my sincere apologies! And now it's time to come clean....



Heeheeee!!! 12 and a half weeks gone, only another... um... 27 to go?!

Anyway... that's why there's been such a lack of writing recently. Everything I've wanted to blog about has been so intrinsically wrapped up in how sick I've felt or not felt, what I've been able to eat and the food that's been in front of me at various "do's" that I've not been able to eat either because I don't fancy it at all or because I'm just not allowed it at the moment.

Still can't quite believe that this is really happening. It was an amazing moment yesterday to actually see the monster that has been causing all this sickness, thankfully there was no bitterness or resentment towards it. It was pretty awesome to see what an incredible amount of work has been going on over the last 10 weeks. I've not felt anything towards this bean, Steve's been talking to it and that's made me smile but I started to get really depressed about it a couple of weeks ago and I've not felt able to talk to it or really acknowledge it very much. It's hard to think nice thoughts about something that's had you feeling so awful for so long. But when we saw it on the screen... it was finally a reality, the bean took shape and form and was accepted into my consciousness as part of me.

It's a proper little wriggler, dancing away to its own little beat in there. Wouldn't keep still for the sonographer to take its picture! Measures in at 6.6cm head to bottom, not including legs, and is about the perfect size for my dates. Due date 3rd November...

Spring cleaning: the aim, and the reality

Today we promised ourselves that we would spring clean. What with one thing and another cleaning the house has kind of taken a back burner over the past few weeks, and travelling has meant that I've been achieving only the absolute bare minimum needed to keep us in clean clothes and dishes. Today was also the first day in a couple of weeks that we've actually had a chance for an actual lie-in, albeit Steve needed to be up in time to catch the butcher before they closed at midday so it wasn't the usual Entwistle lie-in until 2pm. Even so.

Steve managed to, um, spring clean the area around the keyboard so that we could move it from its temporary stand (the filing cabinet) to its new real keyboard stand, and we have actually hoovered in the bedroom which is an achievement. We still need to put everything back on the floor from where it is currently sitting on the bed, which could be tricky when it comes to going to bed otherwise. I also managed to put a load of washing in this morning (well, Steve did, on my behalf, but I emptied the suitcases - yes I know, we got back Tuesday evening and yes, it's Saturday today - and sorted out the clean clothes from the dirty) but it's still sitting in the bucket waiting to be hung out. I have got an excuse for this, and by that I mean an excuse other than I just haven't done it yet, and that is that the drying lines were occupied until about 5 minutes ago and this morning the stuff on the lines wasn't dry so I couldn't have taken it down any earlier.

And we've been shopping, to the supermarket, to get stuff that we can't easily get from the high street. Like... um... a barbeque. Which has been quite fun watching it get put together, and despite it only being £40 it's not bad at all really. So now that's sitting in the garden by the shed covered in a plastic sheet; and the other bit of tat that I bought (a big yellow spotty mushroom thing) is also planted near the bay tree to make me smile when I look out the window.

We forgot to put the casserole on before going to the supermarket sadly. That was the main reason Steve went to the butchers this morning, for a pound of chuck steak. But it's being cooked now, and tomorrow before we go to church we'll stick it in the oven and hopefully when we get home all we'll need to do is potatoes and we have a good hearty lunch to look forward to. Sounds like a plan, Stan. Steve then announced that if we wanted to invite people back for lunch we could - although that means a whole lot more "spring cleaning" tonight, if we want that opportunity!

Right... must hang out that washing...

Toodlepip :)

Christina thinks.....

... I should train to be a teacher. She started laying seeds of new thoughts in my brain last night... All these great teaching institutions close by, all this intelligence crying out to be used. She told me of one job she used to do in admin where she spent more time making the spreadsheets look pretty and all the files being the right colour and neatly written because she was so bored. She pointed out that when it gets to that point, you REALLY NEED A DIFFERENT JOB. One that actually challenges you. I thought to myself, now, how familiar does that sound... I've become so disillusioned with the whole admin/secretary thing (for disillusioned, read hate with passion) that I can't see me ever going back to that despite having passed my NVQ L3 in Business Admin with flying colours.

So. What am I doing now? Working part-time in a greengrocers shop, and looking forward to being a baby-making factory. Logic says that this is a very odd step for a person to take. But, if you look at it, what's illogical about it at all? I needed a (clean) break from admin, I've done the whole staying at home being a homemaker thing and really enjoyed it to be fair, I just need a bit of company. I was reading Emily Wood's blog the other day and one post I read talked about what Christian women do once their children are all grown up - do they go and get a "proper" job again? What do they do? Well I for one would much prefer to do what I'm doing now, looking after Steve, being somebody that people come home to after their travels doing mission work overseas or whatever. To provide a home and hospitality.

But then, last night got me thinking. I actually really enjoy being challenged, once I get over the initial terror of writing an essay, I actually manage to write a really good one. Although I've not written many essays the ones I have written have invariably received very high marks. I do love writing. I love putting my thoughts on paper, I love being able to explain what I mean. I'm not great (at the moment) at explaining what I mean verbally as my brain takes a while to sift the rubbish from the good stuff that whirls around when I talk to people, and then it has to process it and send the resultant information to my mouth, which then falls over itself, so all in all it makes writing infinitely preferable because of the extra time my brain gets to read through what it has splurged. Don't you often wish you could do that with what you say, to retract the dross once you've proof-listened to what you've said!

Where am I going with this... Not entirely sure. Could I teach? What would I teach? Who would I teach? When would I get round to going back to school? I do wonder what plans God has for me in the future. I honestly thought last night that I'd realised what my calling was but then... well doesn't God continually surprise us and make us think bigger! I wonder whether this new door marked "hope" is one that I can wander through and look around in the rooms beyond.

Big deep breath...

I've been telling myself for some time that I need to get out more. I really do. I swear I'm going a little bit mad at home by myself all the time, I relish the chance to go to the shops. I've realised that I'm not normally this disorganised (in fact I'm pretty organised, and don't like chaos much) but the disorganisation that makes me have to go to the shops every other day (and going twice in one day because I forget something happens frequently) stems from the fact that I am craving company. I have made some amazing online friends due to the fact that most mornings I will take my cup of tea up to the computer and while away an hour or two, and one online friend in particular I am very grateful to for just being around at the moment, but I still crave company. So I go out to the shops just to have the opportunity to talk to people!

Anyway. I've been telling myself particularly that I should get a part-time job at least so that I have more structure in my life, and I've been procrastinating and putting it off for weeks. Months. BUT! Today I took a Big Deep Breath and when I went into the greengrocers I nearly didn't but then I opened my mouth and asked! It transpires that the lad who owns the place is regularly getting up at 3am (THREE IN THE MORNING!!!) to go to the markets and come down to Steyning and he doesn't live particularly locally, and he's still here at 6 in the evening most days too. I have utter admiration for him, I really do. Anyway I offered my availability and gave him my card (that impressed him with my organised-ness!! ha) and at Easter they're going to have a good look at staffing, and he said he will give me a call. So! Watch this space. I would so love to work there. I am pretty passionate about good food, and the principles they have there are great. All either local or local and organic, or fairtrade wherever possible. Ahhhhh....... here's to Easter!

I remember at school once being told to...

...blow my own trumpet. Now how on earth was I supposed to do that? I've just been reading CLP's blog with all the messages of support for Gazza, and one near the end (as I read just now) said this:

"It may not be the cause for his troubles, but one of the contributory factors must be our country's inability to applaud success. From school age when we're told not to brag about winning, through to adulthood when we're not allowed to 'blow our own trumpet'.

"The tabloid press embody this way of thinking - all too keen to pounce on anyone with any amount of success and rake some dirt or fabricate some damaging story. And what makes it worse - this rubbish sells newspapers." (PeeBee on CLP, 22nd Feb)

I remember one day in secondary school our lesson in PSHE was about writing your Personal Statement to go in your Record of Achievement (do they still exist?). We were encouraged to "blow our own trumpet" for the main reason that nobody else will blow it for you. I had no idea how to blow my own trumpet. I'd learnt not to brag, I'd learnt to play down my achievements, I'd no idea of the achievements of others so I had nothing to aim for to compete with until the completion of an achievement was announced at which point I'd think, I could have done that, how come I didn't know about that?

We had to give our testimony the other day in the Joining In course we're doing with church, and I know I'm hopeless at the moment at giving my testimony. I am just hopeless at talking about myself and my past, unless I'm sat at a keyboard and can write and delete and write some more and edit heavily. Probably I should've done exactly that, and brought my script with me to the course but I didn't. I'd heard a testimony the previous week and it had inspired me because the person hadn't talked much about their life BC, although they had told us where they were from and their brief life history. They focussed on their life since being saved. Now usually, when I am asked to give my testimony, I say much the same thing and talk about a point in my life which was pretty low and talk about how God pulled me through. But this time I just didn't was to focus on that at all - it wasn't something I wanted to dwell on or re-visit. It's not that I want to start fresh here, it's just that I feel that I've moved on and at some point in the future I will be able to incorporate that period much more succinctly into my testimony.

Anyway, I babbled. I babbled and skipped and hopped here there and everywhere and so still nobody really has any idea of who I am. I am just hopeless at telling people about my past, my achievements and what I can do. Maybe I fear being shot down. Maybe I fear being asked to do something based on what I've said, only to discover that I'm not as good as I thought I was. I think that's my main fear. Not being as good as I thought I was. I think that fear is something that holds me back at lot of the time and perhaps now I've properly identified it I can start to work at solving it and getting fixed.

Actually, now that I think about it, I'm thinking that maybe the reason that my memory is so shocking and why it takes so long for me to remember what I did the other day whenever anybody asks me, stems from this inability to tell people about myself. I suppose that keeping a blog - a journal that, theoretically, anybody in the world could read if they wanted - is a small step towards telling people about myself. But it's all so current. Maybe I'll attempt to write my testimony - my life story, concisely - again one day.

Well I wasn't going to but....

...then, somehow I was in the car on the way to the gym.

The thing is, I gave myself the "gym" amount of insulin this morning (less, because exercise does a great job of reducing blood sugar levels) and then, ten minutes before it got to the appointed time to go to the class, I thought, "I don't feel like going. I hurt too much from yesterday." Then somehow I was in the car (I was late, ok) and was on my way. Not entirely sure how that happened.

But it was good. I went to "Body Balance" today, which is some mix of yoga and pilates and tai chi, and the last time I did the class (I've only done it once before) I wobbled and overbalanced quite a lot. I have such a pathetic sense of balance! Today it wasn't so bad. I'm determined to learn how to balance, I guess it's something you learn and most people learn it as they go from birth kind of thing. I'm pretty good at staying upright but I do have a tendency to fall into walls and doors and anything else really. But once I can balance, then maybe I'll be less scared of downhill skiing, and cycling downhill, and running downhill, and basically doing anything that involves going downhill.

See I can DO going uphill, even if it kills me, but it's the getting downhill that I have issues with.

Pushing on to receive the prize...

Did myself a mischief at the gym last week. I've been having physio for my shoulders, to try and teach them the correct way to exist, and one of the exercises that I did last Thursday hurt while I was doing it. Hurt in a not-good way. Really, I should've stopped and said that I didn't think I should be doing that exercise, but sadly I'm quite proud and refuse to give in when somebody's set me a task like that. Anyway the upshot was that I couldn't go to the gym on Friday due to extreme discomfort, and Saturday and Sunday weren't much better. I was going to go for a class on Monday for some pilates/yoga/stretching thing, but although I can cope with the humiliation of falling over because my sense of balance is sadly lacking, I decided to give it a miss because my usual range of movements in the shoulder/arm department was still way below normal.

I missed going to the gym. I moped all day Monday, and decided that I really needed to go yesterday just to beat the blues. Couldn't do much - did maybe half my programme, and felt absolutely shattered afterwards. Today however, I am feeling so proud of myself. I did a good set. I hate the cross-ramp thing with a passion because it makes me work so hard, and today I nearly gave up halfway through the set. But I pushed on - and discovered that if I push past that "do I give up?" point, I could finish the set and not have to stop feeling sick just before the end!!! I was SO proud of my effort. Then I discovered the changing rooms were "closed" for cleaning - so now what am I supposed to do??! Ah well, might as well complete the programme....

It's evolving, I'm telling you.

It's been a while since the last blog, but since then a lot seems to have happened. I made the transition onto insulin the day after the last blog, and have been amazed by how easily my mind has accustomed itself to me stabbing myself twice a day for the insulin. I still hate the finger-pricking blood testing, but that is a necessary evil which I will just have to live with until I die or am healed, whichever happens first.

The babyfever evolved though. After New Year, when we stopped stopping babies from happening, the broodiness changed from the desperation that comes from not being allowed to try at all, to a crazed checking of my belly every morning. Babies were no longer off-limits, small children made me smile instead of cry, and sex had reason again. And then, as suddenly as my hormones went insane, they just vanished. Well, not exactly vanished, but there was suddenly no babyfever, no broodiness. I was me again. It has been a very nice month, thankyouverymuch. No demented hormones dragging me this way and that way and all over the place.

In hindsight I think I was daft to think that this perfect balance would last. It's only half-way through February and already the babyfever has evolved once more with the arrival of my period last month. Now I feel like I will be crushed if my period arrives this month although I'm really trying not to think about it, in the hope that if I don't think about it I won't mind so much. I suspect this isn't going to work though.


Ah well. Raise your glass with me, if you would, if you're not already pregnant that is (although feel free to use a substitute red liquid and join in my toast):

Here's to bunnies.

Day of Opportunity: Päivätilaisuus

Having one of those days where there's nothing on, all the food is prepared (leftovers from yesterday) so there's no cooking that needs doing, there's no shopping to be done except for buying a paper, and my bum and legs hurt from yesterday's attempt at running the Lower Horseshoe so there'll be no running today because I am, underneath it all, a bit of a wimp.

There is washing to be hung out which I may attempt now - I didn't earlier because yesterday I managed to rip open (ok that's a slight exaggeration) my finger on a tree whilst cutting back some weeds and it hurts quite a lot still (witch doctor gel hurts REAL bad) so I didn't want to get it caught continually on the washing. But, having said that, I've just made a batch of bread dough (now prooving in the oven) and got dough and flour and butter all over my hands, including the huge great gaping wound (it's about 2mm long actually) so maybe I'll get around to hanging out the washing after all.

I suppose today is really a fantastic opportunity for me to get into the attic and do some of that which I tend to call "work" which is actually playing around in the studio, painting or playing music. Singing's a bit out of the question at the moment as my voice is still recovering from last week's cold, but my fingers still work and there's a book of music downstairs which I'm actually really looking forward to playing through.

A Day of Opportunity indeed.

Motivation...

We put a deposit down on a car at the weekend :D and we keep looking at each other (this hasn't really stopped since Saturday) and saying, "we'll have a car next week!!" So we will be picking up a boy-racer-red, 1.8 tdi vRS Skoda Fabia on Friday or Saturday. And I get to drive it to Manchester on Sunday or Monday! :D

Other than that, I don't really know what to write. I think the main thing I'm thinking about at the moment is my lack of exercise. I just called the leisure centre to cancel tomorrow's appointment, I've been poorly this week and it's meant that even if I'd wanted to go out training I couldn't have. As I drove back from the shops today (driving a hired Toyota Aygo... not great fun...) I remembered what Adrian (my trainer) said last time. Something about how if I actually filled out an application form for this summers' Round Hill Romp (a 10k run) I might feel a bit more motivation to do some work. I was filled with dread at the thought of actually putting my name down for something.

I don't even know if I want to do this run. Part of me does, yes, but it means making a decision that I don't want to make just yet. And possibly, by the time I am in a position to make the decision, I won't have time to either apply or train adequately.

Read another blog just now. The author noticed another roll around his tummy this morning and has vowed to go to the gym every morning this week. Wish I could get up the motivation to do that.

rubitinyourfacebook?

I've heard people refer to facebook as "rub it in your face-book" quite a lot over the past months, and it does seem to me that, certainly as Christians, but also just as nice people (do those two things always go hand in hand I wonder?), whether we should be posting things and writing things that, either deliberately or not, really hurt other people?

I read another comment somewhere on the ether that your facebook profile is essentially what you want the world to see about you. It's entirely calculated; you can tweak it here and there to reflect how you wish to be seen by others. In the same way, we each have a lot of control over what we put up there which could potentially hurt our BROTHERS AND SISTERS. I say that in capitals because that's what we are to each other. You might not share the same earthly parents, but you share a heavenly Father and it just constantly amazes me how people can either be so callous or so ignorant as to post things that are obviously going to hurt other people.

You do realise, don't you, that if you break up with somebody and your relationship status posts this all over the internet, that you can delete that bit of information from your Mini-feed? It's quite easy to do. You can choose what bits of information get posted all over the news updates by controlling what appears in your mini-feed, and you can also go through your privacy settings and tweak things here and there. It really isn't hard, you've just got to get over the mindset of "technical-aaargh" which never helps.

Ok, rant over. I've just been upset by things that I can see that have obviously hurt other people and it annoys and upsets me that we call ourselves Christians and then have this cavalier attitude to our brothers' and sisters' emotional and spiritual well-being.

Salt and Light

Just read a rather interesting point made by somebody commenting on a blog somewhere in the ether:

"You don't put a big pile of salt in the middle of your food because it will just taste of poo"

Interesting. The point they were making is, are massive churches the best thing? Surely salt is better mixed into the food, rather than huddled together in one place.

Discuss.

All drugged up and feeling... a bit numb actually

Came down with a cold last night. Thankfully it had the grace to wait until I was asleep before assaulting me, so I was able to finish the marmalade off while still feeling ok. Had to buy 8 more jam jars this morning though, as I'd managed to completely by-pass the whole process of thinking and had only bought 6 half-pint jam jars to fit the fruit, sugar, and 5 pints of water into. This was at the same time as buying a bigger saucepan because my biggest pan wasn't big enough. "Ooh yes, 6 will do...."

This morning I woke up feeling very sorry for myself. I'm paying for all the hard work I did yesterday at the gym, and that, coupled with generally being poorly, is combining to make today
rather painful. I am now all drugged up on paracetamol and vitamin C (I've just had the first spoonfuls of homemade marmalade!) and feeling odd. That strange feeling of fake-chirpiness, combining the slightly crazed look in the eyes from the temperature, the numbness from the painkillers, and the effort from having to breathe through my mouth whilst trying not to choke on the toast at the same time.

Good things though. Went to see the lovely physiotherapist this morning, and she was delighted with the response my shoulders are making already. Got another exercise to add to the list, and I'm also having to re-learn good posture again - shouldn't be too hard (she says) as I've already learnt it several times before, and so it's just a case of reinforcing what I already know.

Roll on tomorrow...

Fit as a fiddle? Me?

Went to the gym again this morning, feeling extremely guilty and pretty bad about myself. I'm supposed to be "training" for a 10k run in the summer, and I am not very good at self-motivating. You might think that the following is a good thing but in some ways it really isn't. You see, I've never really had to think about what I eat (other than the diabetes), I've never really done or had to do much exercise, I've never watched my weight, I've never looked at myself in the mirror and thought "you're fat" or "you're too thin". I just am. It took Steve to convince me that looking in the mirror before going out was actually a good idea (thank God for Stephen). So I'm getting better at some things.

But here's the thing. I convinced a friend to go to the gym last month. She's never been to a gym before. She's in her 30's I think (haven't asked yet!) and knows she's unfit and overweight, but was terrified of going to the gym. So she and her hubby went along and joined and are nearly through their induction - and she's been going EVERY DAY for a WHOLE HOUR. She went to the 4th induction session and the girl said, "gosh, you've been coming quite a lot. You do know that your body needs to rest as well, don't you?" So my friend now takes Sundays off.

I feel.... I don't know what the word is. But Adrian, my instructor, was quite surprised today. Last time I went it was just after getting back from Finland and it felt like I'd just slept and eaten for two weeks, so he went easy on me and took the speed on the treadmill down a notch. I was exhausted. Two weeks later and I've not done a single session on my own, or been out running, or done anything really except bake lots of cakes and bread, and he puts the treadmill speeds back up to what they were before Christmas. And I sail through. I'm still chattering away at the end of the session, barely out of breath. Adrian is confused. So am I. He says he wishes his training regime could be like mine - don't do any work, and still get fitter.

I'm hoping that the thought of the speeds going up next week will panic me into actually doing some work this week....

Contracts signed, so here's to the 31st...

Got back from Manchester yesterday after an emotional and traumatic day finalising the house sale: checked out the house to make sure it was still ok only to discover that the back door key was missing (can only presume it was the estate agents, as they'd left the shed keys and the gate key on the keyring) so we couldn't get through to the back garden easily to get rid of the last of the rubbish. And the alarm panel wasn't working properly - the numbers for the alarm code we've used don't work any more, feels like somebody's been using the end of a ball-point pen to push the buttons so they're really hard to push now. Wasn't like that when we left it. Bit annoyed about that.

BUT. The contracts have been signed, got a fax today confirming the completion date and the amount, so we'll be off to the bank this week to see if we can get a very very very short-term loan so that we can buy a car. A car!! Our own car, that will hopefully not break and die within two months of owning it, that will enable us to get around and about.

And all that about today being the most depressing day of the year? Well my advice is to have a nice long bath, preferably the candlelit kind, with yummy bath salts or a bath bomb or something equally delicious, get all clean and put something nice on. Worked a treat for me today anyway.

Pizza's in the oven, husband's poorly on the sofa, and I'm not looking forward to my gym session tomorrow. I feel so guilty that I've not done anything for the past two weeks - I'm really going to try and do better this week. It's just the weather... it's just not conducive to me going out running...

Amazing what you can get done in half an hour.

So this is how it goes in the morning. Firstly it depends on whether I can convince myself that getting out of bed will be a good thing. Waking up doesn't seem to be much of a problem initially, but it's getting out of bed that gets me. If it's cold or Stephen's being particularly snuggly then that bit is tricky.

But once I've decided to actually get out of bed, I can usually manage to get all the usual things done and stumble downstairs into the kitchen to put the kettle on. I usually manage to stay looking at least half-awake until half-way through breakfast and then all of a sudden it's as if I'm asleep again.

I have about half an hour from getting out of bed where I'm awake and useful, and then it takes a good couple of hours and a cup of tea or two while I'm a bit zombie-ish before I'm anything like useful again, so during that half hour I've learnt to make breakfast, a cup of tea, do the washing up and tidy the kitchen up a bit if it didn't get done the night before and put a load of washing in. It's amazing how much I can get done in that half-hour of productivity.

Almost makes up for the two hours of stumbling around that follow...

What day is it today? What, all day??

Oh dear. I'm having issues with what day it is. Again. Yesterday I spent half the day thinking it was Monday (which was OK, since it was actually Monday) and the rest of the time thinking it was Tuesday. So much so that I emptied all the bins and got the recycling ready for the weekly Wednesday rubbish collection. Steve said he did notice but decided (wisely, I feel) not to comment. In the evening I think I said something about it must be Tuesday because he went to work the day before. But no, it was still Monday. I've even had to blu-tac a little star on the relevant day/date on the calendar - and despite the little star being there, I managed to get confused.

We've just watched the Louis Theroux programme (downloaded it yesterday) and when it ended I thought - briefly before realising my error - oh that's nice, we can have an early night and a nice long lazy lie-in in the morning. Thinking it was Friday. It's still Tuesday. All day.

Which means that it's Wednesday tomorrow.

All day.

Cornbread and lingonberry bread... and spoiling the husband :-)

I have been accused of spoiling Stephen! I said it was to make sure he didn't run off, but he assures me that there's more to him loving me than just my baking :-) I baked cornbread for breakfast on Saturday, and made a loaf of lingonberry bread in the afternoon. We finished the lingonberry bread yesterday with dinner and the cornbread is looking at me from the breadbin... eat me... eat me... I'm bored so I bake. Just need to be able to adjust the quantities a little better, so that I am able to bake what we might actually eat, before it goes bad because we can't eat it fast enough.

Made dumplings for the first time ever last night to go with the casserole. I've made biscuit before, thanks to Justin's Canadian recipe, but Steve says that dumplings still win hands down. Quite pleased. So we've got the other half of the casserole for lunch today, and it'll be bread and cheese and salad for tea later on.

The rain is miserable. The most miserable of miserable weather. I really miss the cold of Finland, it just seems so warm here by comparison. It was odd going back there, we thought we'd be ok with the cold and when the temperature dropped we were really not ok! I guess living somewhere where it gets cold every year you get slowly accustomed to the change in temperature and can deal with it better (and have appropriate clothing) but it caught us out. By the end of the week though we were much more accustomed to it, and when we got back to England even though it was cold here by our standards, it felt so warm and muggy, not nice at all.

So I'm a little bored. I'm assuming that the boredom has something to do with not having anything to prepare for (namely, Christmas, and relatives coming to visit) and also because we don't have a car at the moment and it's just too wet to consider going out for a walk. I don't even fancy going to the shops at the moment although I really ought to as it's Steve's sister's birthday at the weekend and I'd like to find something lovely for her. Even though the shops are just across the road from me I just can't seem to find the motivation! Maybe by this afternoon the rain won't be so bad and I might venture out...

Happy New Year and all that jazz :)

It's Wednesday morning and it's about 42 hours since we got home on Monday from Finland. I'm just about managing to keep up with what day of the week it is, and I'm quite pleased that we remembered to put the bins out this morning. The bags are all unpacked, the house is tidyish and some of the washing has been done. The Christmas tree and decorations are down and in a pile in the attic waiting to be sorted out and put away, the chocolate and biscuit pile isn't really getting much smaller, Stephen is back to work and life is slowly returning to normal.

I wonder what this year will bring. I hope that I make new friends here, that I can be so part of their lives that I can challenge and encourage them for the best; I hope that we will have children of our own this year, and I hope to see my new nephew soon! I'm humbled that my brother has asked me and Stephen to be Godparents to his new baby, and I hope that we have the opportunity to fulfil the duty that it offers. I'm grateful that in all this God reigns and I hope that I have the wisdom to see when God's way is different from my ideas - and the grace to accept it and get on with it!

A Tale of Two Buyers

I'm frustrated. Upset. Fed up. And having to remember that God is God, and answerable to no-one but Himself. He does not have to tell me why things are happening the way they are happening, He does not have to explain Himself to me. He is who He is.

The house is now going through the motions with a second potential buyer. And, as with the first potential buyer, this second one is being just as difficult. The first buyer kept putting us off not providing proof of funds, and eventually we gave him an ultimatum to provide or we go with someone else who we had waiting in the wings, so to speak.

Enter Buyer#2. Says that he can complete within a week, especially as most of the paperwork has already been done. Then he asks for a survey, even though he said initially that his offer wasn't subject to survey. Fair enough says we, do the survey if it makes you happy. Then he tries to ask for an extra £4.5k off the price - which has already been discounted by £15k from its original asking price. When we exclaim at his cheek, he says that he only wants £2.5k off, not £4.5k. Still, that's just rude. And procrastinating. And upsetting everybody else.

I wonder how this scene will end, and whether we have an Act 3 to look forward to.