Give him the chair!

I went into town this morning to pick up my sick note from the doctor's surgery.  Is it still called a sick note?  I think now it's a "Well, ok, you can stay off work, but wrap up warm and come back and see me in a few days, and if you're skiving I'll tell on you," note.

Anyway.  I went and collected it, then went to the weigh-in at Fat Club.  Stayed the same as I was last week, which I was actually pleased about as it's been a weird few weeks and my eating habits have been out of whack.  The antibiotics meant I was feeling even worse than the chest infection was making me, and my appetite had gone, so I was eating for the sake of it, rather than because I wanted to.   What with the stress of poor old Father-in-law WithaY being in hospital, and Mr WithaY and I not being allowed to go and see him with our colds/coughs, it was all a bit much.  So I shovelled down far more bread and honey than I am supposed to.  Comfort eating.  It works in the short term, but then you get depressed because you're a fat bastard. Gah.

Encouraging developments, though.  Father-in-law is out of hospital and back at the nursing home, where he hasn't been tipped out of his wheelchair again.  Yet.  We popped in briefly last night to see him, and he looks better, still terribly frail, but more cheerful, and delighted to see us.

On the way to the weigh-in, I walked past a cafe, outside of which gathers the rank and file of local life.  As I walked past, I overheard an ENORMOUS woman saying to her friend, "Worrrrl, I weren't going to not say nothing, was I?  Was I?  You know me..I says what I think, and if I dunt like something, I tell them, dunni?  Dunni?"

Her friend nodded eagerly, clearly enjoying the retelling of whatever epic encounter this was.  If I hadn't been late for my meeting I would have stopped to hear the rest. 

I have a feeling that the large lady came off best in it.  She looked as though it would take more than a battle of words to defeat her, and I imagine that she'd never even realise if she was taking part in a battle of wits.  She had the air of someone who thinks nothing of picking up a chair and twatting the other party with it to get her point across.

Other news: Watched Avatar on DVD last night. Boy I wish I'd seen it at the cinema. I loved it. Mr WithaY loved it too, and he'd been lukewarm about watching it to begin with.


I want to go and see Iron Man 2, but the reviews haven't been great, and Slyde was less than complimentary, so maybe that can wait for DVD too. 

Low class

I went up to London for my meeting (successful, ta), and met my lovely mate Biggles for lunch afterwards, which was an unexpected bonus.

We chatted, ate splendid fish and chips in a pub (jealous, American readers?) and then he very sweetly walked me back to Waterloo to get my train.

Had a fantastic view of the London Eye as we crossed the bridge, which sparked a discussion about other freakishly altered fairground rides you could put in a big city. Our favourite was the enormous, really slow Helter Skelter that takes an hour to slide down, then slo-o-owly bounces you across the river on a giant coconut mat.

Anyhoo. Got to the train, and asked the nice guard (who looked a lot like Lord Bath, oddly) if I could use the door he was stood by.

"Yes love, but it's First Class."

"I am First Class" I said, trying for a haughty and devil-may-care tone, but sadly coming across rather whiny and crap, waving my ticket at him.

"Well, in that case I'll let you in" he said.

When he checked my ticket later he made a jokey comment about how he could "just tell" I was First Class. And so the long afternoon wore on.

I plugged mysef into the iPod, and listened to 1980s heavy rock all the way to Salisbury, where you have to change trains. As I stepped off the train, the friendly guard was there again.

"Ooh" he said "Not sure First Class people paint their toenails bright red!"

"Only the sleazy ones" I replied, trying to decide whether I was pleased he'd noticed or affronted that he'd been looking. Tch. Girls, eh?


Not First Class toes, allegedly.