Things are and aren't normal over in camp ginger. Conflicting information much?
I had my mum up to stay with us over the weekend and she was a complete love. I can only assume that having seen that I'm not likely to drop down any time soon has reassured her enough to be a smiley mothership, rather than an anxious 'freeze your eggs' talking one instead.
I was exhausted from my first week at work but with a couple of sly naps we managed to enjoy the weekend and make the most of it too. She accompanied us to our first viewing of a possible wedding venue. Fair to say that I have rejected all traditional ideas of a wedding reception as impersonal and over the top and sadly thanks to the lack of flexibility have rejected that wedding venue too. A few months ago (before I knew the prognosis of this cancer lark) I was telling Hairy we'd have to just go to the registry office and get the legal bit done so he didn't need to go through a whole heap of extra paperwork and I didn't need to be lumbered with an ugly name on my gravestone (I know it's in bad taste but I stand by my feelings that a bit of stone will last an awful lot longer than I will, cancer or no cancer so I'm not dying with the injustice of a surname asking for grafitti). When we went to view the venue they were setting up for a wedding and I was thoroughly underwhelmed. I felt like the woman had entirely missed the point and this isn't cancer brain talking, this is sensible Lottie all over.
1) I want to marry Hairy, I don't want to recreate the Queen's Coronation - why are you talking to me about table cloths and drinks receptions and not the ceremony?!
2) I want to be married. Getting married doesn't require anyone to spend the price of a new car for one day to what, show off? I couldn't enjoy any day that I was aware had costs half my yearly salary!
3) It's meant to be about us so why are you telling me I get the choice of A or B like that will make me jump for joy?
Yeah...so strike that and it's on to plan B. I want somewhere personal to us, that we can afford to invite the people we really love and that we can have a day based around us and the ones we love. I am absolutely not spending tens of thousands of pounds on a wedding that you may as well line up for (bring the couples in on a conveyor belt and marry them all off in one day) when you could use that money for so many worthy causes! Slight rant.
Anyhoo, after my positively unimpressed face mulled over the concept of a woman seriously telling me I should pay £1,000 to HIRE napkins, table cloths and chair covers like I'd actually think this was a sensible use of money, we took ourselves off to the BALTIC art gallery, a building I truly adore but as it turns out also won't want to get married in since they have the same approach to wedding planning.
I'm sure I'm just not cultured enough but I came away from the particular exhibits on show wondering whether or not I might secretly be an amazing artist rather than someone who happens to be appalling at DIY. I saw a collection of plastered bits of wood and boards (looked a lot like the dodgy job done on our hallway before we moved into our flat), a lovely collection of what I'm sure were giant licorice allsorts and toilet hand towel dispensers that were lit up. I really liked a room they'd had set up with coloured plastic and mirrors (very pretty) and then went in to watch apparently an amazing film about bees. They appeared to concentrate on the importance of poking the poor bees with tape measures and making the audience feel sick by swinging mirrors around in fields of wild flowers while they filmed them. Interesting I guess. Not entirely sure my mum will be signing up to come with us to do that again any time soon.
The following day we went to the seaside for a walk and a giant muffin (a must in Tynemouth if you're ever there) and then went to see a film at the independent cinema in town. It was really good but I think by that time I was so knackered that I might have missed some of it.
All in all we had a really lovely weekend, spoilt only by Hairy's occasional whinging about me being tired or not paying attention. He's clearly finding it even harder than before to get on with the fact that despite my best efforts to stay awake and keep up with being a half decent partner, I'm not getting back to 'normal' nearly quickly enough and I imagine I'm really not that much fun to be around. We talked it out after mum left and there had been a couple of childish comments made between us and it all seems to be OK again. He needs to be more patient with me and I need to be less snappy with him. It's been a tough few months and to be fair we were lucky.
Back to work I went today, for all of 5 and a half hours after which I had to go home because either I'm getting a migraine or a virus or I put my eyes on wrong this morning because I feel positively sea sick and that's not helpful when you're paid to stare at a computer screen! At least I had something else to worry about though.
I've started supporting Anthony Nolan, not least because I'm more than a little aware that I might need them one day and even if I don't it is a good cause. I've also been nominated to do that Ice Bucket challenge so we'll see how that works out.
The nightmares have started up infrequently but I guess that's just a manifestation of the unknown. The fact is that as things stand I'm not doing too badly and I've got a much greater appreciation for my life (oh how cheesey you are ginger) so now we need to stop focusing on the petty rubbish and get on with living....just as soon as I've had another nap though!
