tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2651780990313684302023-11-16T05:07:10.482-08:00Please stop the world, I want to get offNitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-36338093129178058232017-11-22T07:11:00.001-08:002017-11-22T07:11:22.693-08:00Moved onNot that I expect anyone is still reading here, but I have moved and can now be found writing at <a href="http://flyawayblog.org/">FlyAway</a> - please come and find me there xNitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-66833851182865407892015-12-15T02:30:00.001-08:002015-12-15T02:32:48.970-08:00The same page<span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">This is not a pity post, OK? I'm VERY happy with my life. I got back from Mexico three weeks ago and in two weeks time I'm leaving for Amsterdam for the new year. As I write this I'm on the train to join one of my closest friends for a spa break at a luxury spa we love. My job is busy but satisfying. I'm very lucky. </span><br><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">What I'm thinking about though, is what happens when you are in a relationship with someone who maybe doesn't see life the way you do. Who has a different view of their future. And who makes what compromises?</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The wonderful, gorgeous, smart, kind, sexy, funny man who I'm proud to call my boyfriend (did I mention that he's gorgeous?) and I had a semi-argument recently. It wasn't the kind of argument that makes you question if you want to be with them. But it makes you wonder if you're a good person for staying with them. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I've written before about the fact that I don't think I want kids. That hasn't changed. Indeed as time goes on I want them less and less. I don't need to justify why, but I do think it's interesting that all my friends who are now parents have only ever commented on my photos and posts of late-nights-drinking-cocktails and frequent-holidays-abroad with envy. Anyway, the boy has hinted that he thinks he does want kids. We've briefly discussed our reasons. He understands mine, I don't understand his at all ('to carry on your family line?! What makes you think your family line's so special...') </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I have however told him that IF (big if) I were to consider having kids, I'd want to be married. He seemed to understand my feelings on this. But it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't want to get married again. Sure, we have both been-there-done-that and it didn't work out, and I totally get the fear of not being lucky a second time around either (I'm afraid I subscribe to the theory that a successful marriage depends partly on the willingness of both parties to work on it, and partly to a good healthy old fashioned dose of luck. If you're one of the lucky ones, good for you. I hope you'll always be wary in case your luck changes). And I don't want it for myself much. But bringing new life into the world without the commitment of marriage? Not for my (hypothetical) children, thanks. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I want to be a good person. I've told him I understand if he wants to go and find someone to be the mother of his children, if I can't be it. He says no because he loves me too much. Does it make me selfish that I want this more than I want to give him what he really wants? I'm sorry if it does. But I can't do it. Not right now. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So there we have it. Stalemate, or an insurmountable compromise. Right now, the one thing we both agree on is that we want to be with each other more than we want any hypothetical children or marriage, and I think that's a good starting point right?? Where we go from here only time will tell. </div>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-21662529233344129832015-05-05T14:27:00.002-07:002015-05-21T09:07:31.248-07:00Spring? Must be that time again......yes, that time when I don't bother putting my trainers away properly because they're constantly on my feet. The time when I become OBSESSED with my Runkeeper stats ('second fastest 5-7km run? What do you mean second fastest? Of course I wasn't faster back in summer 2013 when I'd just spent a week <a href="http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/moving-mountains.html" target="_blank">trekking on a mountain</a> and then came down with gastroenteritis and lost several kilos...')<br />
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So yes, the London 10K is less than 3 weeks away. And naturally I would be eternally grateful for your support. More than that, so would everyone at the wonderful <a href="http://promisetoamalia.org.uk/" target="_blank">Promise to Amalia</a> team who never, ever stop working to try and improve the lives of children in Sri Lanka -yes, really. Our latest venture is educational sponsorship to enable a child to complete their education when they might not otherwise be able to afford to. We are hopeful that it will make a HUGE difference to some smart kids who just need one chance.<br />
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<a href="http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AnitaReddy" target="_blank">Please click here. You know you want to. Please.</a><br />
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Thank you.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-23846140769358980262015-03-04T14:48:00.002-08:002015-03-05T15:16:42.175-08:00Ah non.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I feel like I need to start each and every blog post with an apology! I actually love writing. You’d be forgiven for not realising that, I don’t make it obvious do I? But I do. It’s just that sometimes there aren’t enough hours in the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Why aren’t there enough hours in the day?? Oh you know. Trying to manage a very demanding job (three actually), a lovely but time-consuming dad, friends and boyfriend…</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yes, he’s still on the scene. Very much so. And I am happy in a way I thought I never could be. I know I wrote <a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/2011/12/on-divorce" target="_blank">this</a></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">, but I’m not sure how much I ever believed it at the time. But –yes. I am. It’s different. The relationship is more challenging. I cry over things I NEVER expected to cry about. I laugh at the oddest things with him. It isn’t the ‘movie love’ I thought I had last time. It’s not shiny and glossy, it’s…a bit messy I suppose. But it’s amazing in its own way.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And so last month we went to Paris. And it was heaven. We ate croissants and LOTS of cheese. We went to some amazing museums. We wandered through the Tuileries Jardins. We drank wine at the top of the Tour Montparnasse as we watched the twinkling lights on the Tour Eiffel. He laughed at me photographing and rephotographing to get the perfect Art Deco street scene (that’s it down there. You better admire it).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And then we came home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I guess if you spend Valentine’s day in the most romantic city in the world people are going to have preconceived notions –although actually, the reason we went that weekend was possibly the most unromantic one there has ever been – I had a free Eurostar ticket because of a previous delay and it needed using before it expired. I know, true love eh?? But despite that, I couldn’t believe how many people made assumptions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">‘How was Paris?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">‘Oh, it was amaaaaazing!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">‘And?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">‘And it was amaaaaaaaazing. What do you mean, and?.....Oh….you mean did he propose? No. NO HE DIDN’T AND I WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED HIM TO.’</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And it’s true. Remember what I said above?? I am happy. Finally, at long last. I have been sad for such a long time and now, at last, things seem to be going in the right direction. Why would I want to do anything to change that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It has been so hard to open up again, to trust again, to make myself vulnerable again. The thing that makes it possible is knowing that if it does all go wrong, I can put my life back to how it was before. It would be hard, but I’ve been through worse and survived. What I don’t want is to make changes that can’t be reversed. Or not without making me feel like the bottom has dropped out of my world, like it did back in 2011. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">He and I, we are on the same page. We have both been burnt and we both don’t want to make those mistakes again. When we see each other, it is a joy. When we say goodbye and go our separate ways, we look forward to next time with anticipation. I don’t understand why other people can’t feel the way we feel, why everyone feels that we have to ‘move on’. Move where?? I don’t want to move anywhere. I like it right where I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I daresay the time may come when I feel differently. When I want more, when I’m ready for more. And all I can say is…if and when that time comes, if he’s predictable enough to want to make it official in Paris on Valentine’s day, then he’s not the adorable, baffling, quirky man I think he is.</span></div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-48036610817500523042014-07-09T04:22:00.002-07:002014-07-09T04:22:34.513-07:00Good things come to those who waitI don't expect you've realised I've been quiet of late. As in, even fewer posts than usual (hard to believe, isn't it??) There are a few reasons. <a href="http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/shameless.html" target="_blank">I've been running, really quite a lot</a>. Life has been busy in a general sort of way with friends, the boy, birthdays, hen dos and weddings. But most of all, I've been seriously thinking about my career and my future.<br />
Sounds deep, doesn't it?? But it's not, not really. I started a new, supposedly permanent, job in October 2013 after only doing short term/temporary contracts for a few years. At the time, it seemed like a good opportunity to put roots in somewhere, work permanently in a team, start to feel like I really belonged somewhere and could use my skills and make changes. Those were the things that were promised to me when I started.<br />
You probably don't need me to tell you that things didn't work out the way I wanted them to. Instead of feeling like I was part of a team, I felt like I was the person at the bottom of the pyramid, attempting to hold everything up while everyone around me messed around and eventually fell off. My skills, worked so hard for and cherished, weren't valued at all.<br />
I knew I was unhappy within a few weeks of starting the role, despite trying to ignore my initial misgivings. But I tried to suppress those feelings. Doing what I do, selfishness isn't encouraged. It's not about you, it's about what you do for others. I focused on that. And I know I did it well. That's one thing about which I have no regrets.<br />
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But eventually, it wasn't enough. And just as I was coming to realise that, another opportunity presented itself. There is somewhere else where I worked for a year when I first moved to London, back at the beginning of 2012. I had a wonderful year working there but sadly the contract ended and there was no vacancy for me to stay there permanently. I hoped for a long time that something would come up there, but after almost 2 years of waiting and hoping nothing had and I started to think I shouldn't wait forever -hence why I took the other post last autumn.<br />
But suddenly out of the blue a vacancy arose and I almost couldn't believe it. I spent long anxious evenings rewriting my CV, honing each sentence, asking people to read it and check it for me (and it still went in with a mistake on it! Typical). The interview was on the hottest day you can imagine in early June and I sat with my dress almost stuck to me with sweat, trying to give off the impression of someone cool, calm and collected who you'd desperately want as a colleague. And somehow, God only knows how, it worked and I got offered the post.<br />
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When I resigned from the other post, where I had done my very very best for 8 months, tried and tried and tried, one of my managers was devastated and told me she didn't know how they'd manage without me. The other one said 'ah well, we could never have competed with what your new post is offering you'. Which angered me beyond belief. The reason I am taking the new post, actually, is because they are offering me moral support, teamwork, a chance to grow and develop and learn and be the best I can be. You COULD have offered me that. I gave you plenty of opportunities to do so. You chose not to.<br />
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So I took control. And hopefully it will finally turn out the way I wished for. The new job starts at the beginning of August. Before that however, I am off to Sri Lanka for a much-needed holiday and also to see one of my best friends get married. See you on the flip side....Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-37289849139821674922014-05-19T15:18:00.003-07:002014-05-19T15:18:57.176-07:00Shameless......that's me. Basically asking you (politely) to dig deep for a cause that is very, very important to me.<br />
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Disclaimer first: I am treasurer of this charity. But my belief and conviction in the charity's work is entirely selfless. I get no monetary gain from this job, the work I put in is entirely voluntary.<br />
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<a href="http://promisetoamalia.org.uk/" target="_blank">Promise to Amalia</a> is a charity which was set up by my best friend and her husband. It was started in memory of their beautiful, tragically stillborn, baby girl, to bring something positive from the sadness. The charity aims to help deprived communities and families in a very poor area of Sri Lanka. A quick read of the website will show you how much they have achieved in a relatively short time.<br />
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And in case you weren't sure how much I believe in them, the proof is in the...running. I wouldn't run 10K for something I didn't truly feel passionately about (why cause myself that much pain?!) so the fact that I am doing the <a href="http://www.london10000.co.uk/" target="_blank">BUPA London 10K</a> this Sunday (6 days!!!!!!) for Promise to Amalia must be a sign of how strongly I feel. Believe me when I say running does not come naturally to me, every step is a push. I am terrified of Sunday and what it will bring (and will I be the last runner over the line?!) I would be BEYOND grateful for your support, as would the fantastic Promise to Amalia team.<br />
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Please click <a href="http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=AnitaReddy" target="_blank">here</a> to donate. And thank you, thank you, thank you.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-37413048981136633352014-04-10T04:39:00.002-07:002014-04-10T04:41:00.932-07:00Baby brain... As if.<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Disclaimer: I shall not be apologising for anything I write in this blog post. This is MY space and these are MY views. If you don't like them, please feel free to go and find another blog which has a different viewpoint (there are lots of them, I can recommend some if you wish). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">So last weekend I went back oop north to visit friends. I always have mixed feelings about returning to the-city-I-never-called-home. I lived there for over 11 years, it's a huge chunk of my life. Going back brings back some amazing memories (that's the bar I drank in many times with my best friends!!) and some awful ones (that's the restaurant M and I ate in just before he told me he was going to leave me). Yet what it brought me this time was new. It brought me babies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Obviously not ME. That would be bad and weird. But of the 5 close girlfriends I saw over that weekend, 3 are pregnant. And I have also recently found out that L-the-ex-best-friend-who-married-M's-brother is also pregnant. I wish her no ill will, I hope they are happy. But it's just such a huge contrast between that and where I am. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I can remember with total clarity the moment when I realised I wasn't sure I ever want to have kids. M and I had been dating about 6 months and I knew I was head over heels in love with him but wasn't sure how he felt about me. We were having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants and out of nowhere, he said 'Babe... One day when we have a son, can we call him John after my dad?' Me 'er... #%*+\€$¥}>!!!!!!!' A feeling of total, unexpected panic started swirling around my brain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Because of what I do I interact with children on a daily basis. It's the part of my job I find toughest. They're noisy and messy and smelly and before they can talk they're really frankly quite dull. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">The biggest factor though is how children would actually impact on my life. I am SELFISH. I like late nights and long lie ins and lazy Sunday mornings. I like being able to go to Asia for long trips, not spend a week in a cottage in Yorkshire (or worse, in a tent. After the Inca trail I swore blind I'd never sleep in a tent again. I intend to stick to that). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">I like drinking gin before spending the evening in the theatre. I like my shiny, glossy 1 bed Central London flat which is totally unsuited to a baby. Most of all I like the fact that after 10 years of studying and training to get to where I am in my career I'm finally financially stable and can afford to buy a new top or go out for dinner without stressing about it. Or in this context, without worrying if it'll mean I can't feed the baby this month.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">Friends having babies is obviously wonderful for them. It goes without saying that I'm delighted for them. But it's weird when you realise how different your lives have become, that they're prepared to give up all that stuff for a tiny, dependant being </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">and I'm just...not.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">People keep telling me that that time will come, that I'll feel differently 'soon'. My manager at work says it all the time with a knowing smile on her face. I just smile politely back and say 'maybe'. Because actually, again doing what I do, I'm all too aware it might not be my decision anyway. I've never been pregnant, I might not even be able to get pregnant. But even if there's nothing medically wrong with me now... I turn 33 in 2 months exactly. By medical standards my ovaries are old and tired. They've been busy working for almost 20 years and soon it'll be time for them to start drawing their pension before finally stopping altogether.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">At the moment, this concept doesn't actually bother me. If it never happens for me, that's fine. What I really hope doesn't happen, is that I'll feel like this for the next 5 years and then all of a sudden, BANG, the baby craving will hit me. And what if it's too late by then?? I have no answer to that one.</span></span>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-57638854603267841152014-03-07T04:18:00.001-08:002014-03-07T04:18:45.486-08:00Sunscreen.<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's International Women's Day. And to celebrate that, the <a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/" target="_blank">Any Other Woman </a> ladies asked for advice for the next generation of women.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I thought long and hard about what to write. So many thoughts flooded through my head. I have written divorce and bereavement to death. What else did I have? So I thought back to being 18, all those years ago. I remembered all that I thought I knew, and didn't know, about life. And I remembered <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wear_Sunscreen" target="_blank">this</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This song (poem? thing? call it what you will) was HUGE in the summer of 1999. If you were alive then, you will remember it (unless you were living under a rock). (And if you weren't alive then, what are you doing reading this?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I left high school in the summer of 1999. I WAS the class of 99. And we thought this song was the bees knees. We thought it would give us all the wisdom we needed to get through our lives. It was even printed on the back cover of our yearbooks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well, nearly 15 years after leaving school, I can say that the Sunscreen song has not completely helped me avoid any pitfalls or sadness. I have learnt a lot of things myself. But the combination of it's advice and my own, I think, is a winner. At least for me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/2014/03/iwd2014-sunscreen/" target="_blank">http://anyotherwoman.com/2014/03/iwd2014-sunscreen/</a></span>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-15803162536869954932014-01-12T13:14:00.000-08:002014-01-12T13:26:39.128-08:00A letter to...<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday the post on the fantastic <a href="http://www.anyotherwoman.com/" target="_blank">Any Other Woman</a> was about the Guardian series <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/series/aletterto" target="_blank">A Letter To</a>, so I had a little browse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I found <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/jun/16/letter-to-my-cheating-ex" target="_blank">this one</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I swear to God, it could have been written by me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">M went on a date with someone else while we were still married, in the period when he told me he was moving out for a while because he needed a 'temporary break', before he had told me that it was over for good and we wouldn't be getting back together. I have no proof that he actually slept with anyone else though. Maybe others wouldn't see that as cheating. I do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This paragraph<i> 'Three years ago, I decided I didn't want to turn into a bitter and vengeful person, so I've put a lot of work into trying to learn from this whole experience. I want to move on. I'm in a relationship now with a loving, honest and kind man. There are times when I feel like I can't trust him, yet he's never been untrustworthy. I realise that this is a legacy from you, a feeling I must shake off because it's unfair to him.' </i>is exactly where I am right now. So true. The boy has thus far been remarkably tolerant despite my occasional episodes of letting-out-the-crazy. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But despite all the bad, just as the end of the letter says, I feel like I just about retained my sanity and self respect at the end. Of that I am proud. </span></div>
</div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-82787134651072965942014-01-01T14:06:00.000-08:002014-01-22T08:02:20.235-08:002013 - year in review<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I feel quite guilty writing this because I’m aware that for
a lot of people 2013 has not been a good year. But I’m going to say it anyway
because I want to. 2013 has been one of my BEST YEARS EVER.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I missed most of the UK winter (which I really don’t like.
I’m sorry to all of those people who go on about clear crisp days. All I ever
notice is wind, rain and cold, cold, cold) by flying out to Thailand, Laos,
Vietnam and Cambodia. Saw some amazing stuff, met some amazing people, reminded
myself that there is more to life than my petty little world (not that my petty
little world isn’t incredibly important to me, but, you know, there’s MORE OUT
THERE). More on that <a href="http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/preconceptions.html" target="_blank">here</a>.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I came home in early March and enjoyed the UK spring, drank (and made) lots of gin at the Ginstitute, caught
up with my fantastic friends and met some new ones. Some of the best are the
lovely <a href="http://www.anyotherwoman.com/" target="_blank">AOWettes</a>,
with whom I did Race for Life. Yes, you read that right. 2013 is the Year I
Ran. Having always sworn I ‘couldn’t run’, I started running in April, ran 5k
in blazing heat in Richmond Park in June and in September actually completed
10k around Regent’s Park. But I’m getting ahead of myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVVWareJJSLNM8nUJA1ptVB0emqjpdeAVB7Z50BfwEm_dCV5V4tkCE8fbshfYxEINo0jsheDGM0yNfAd3r-8GikSRl-lz47R-APPykV6v8CKbCf6M67O7k1K2I5EXgzTLcfJFH3seHylh/s640/blogger-image-686271332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVVWareJJSLNM8nUJA1ptVB0emqjpdeAVB7Z50BfwEm_dCV5V4tkCE8fbshfYxEINo0jsheDGM0yNfAd3r-8GikSRl-lz47R-APPykV6v8CKbCf6M67O7k1K2I5EXgzTLcfJFH3seHylh/s640/blogger-image-686271332.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent July in South America. It was INTENSE. The animals,
the jungle, the landscape. More <a href="http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/moving-mountains.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">2013 was also the year I feel I finally started to 'get' social media. I was familiar with Facebook but 2013 saw me starting to use Twitter (with which I still have a love/hate relationship but I think it's now more love than hate), and best of all discovering a total OBSESSION with Instagram which I truly love. Thanks for putting up with my constant inane shots if you follow me there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">August was wonderful. Lots of sunshine, eating, drinking,
theatre and friends. Also lots of work, but ssh, we’re not going to focus on
that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In September my friend Saj sent me the unforgettable
message ‘<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">one of my school mates is divorced, cute
and up for dating. He's an Oxford grad, did engineering but can hold a convo
and is vv funny. Wanna know more?’ Yes, it seems that <b>IS</b> all it takes to
impress me. We started emailing and met for the first time on 11<sup>th</sup>
September. On a cold and rainy evening in Angel, it was a less momentous 9/11
than that which the Americans remember, but still pretty amazing for me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">My last big trip of the year was in late
September, to enjoy sunshine and wonderful hospitality in Boston and New York
with my cousins and their families. There were cousins, second cousins,
cousins-in-law, you name it. And it was fantastic. On occasion, blood really is
thicker than water. It was also a chance for a little bit of quality time with my
dad, which is something I don’t always get enough of. We had a beautiful few
days driving through the New England countryside to admire the fall colours in
New Hampshire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBMykdVzQ_3EO6G7qO9nVDnOHKCsv0Pv8jiYkHaJS6Z1VNh6WFpW3aHnehGLH6xqmPAkvM_QrqR3JnC1Ck-Fu1GNvC4MOzByVpGLHxom10buQsyCigE0IGhUgohBNLRUdtx1vlyAS4Fhh/s640/blogger-image-1290589480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBMykdVzQ_3EO6G7qO9nVDnOHKCsv0Pv8jiYkHaJS6Z1VNh6WFpW3aHnehGLH6xqmPAkvM_QrqR3JnC1Ck-Fu1GNvC4MOzByVpGLHxom10buQsyCigE0IGhUgohBNLRUdtx1vlyAS4Fhh/s640/blogger-image-1290589480.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Since coming back in mid-October things
have really been a blur, mainly wrapped up in working lots, eating and drinking
lots and exercising less than I should have, some fantastic theatre, spending
time with friends and, of course, with the new boy. I saw the year out on my
balcony with prosecco, the fireworks over the London Eye and him. It was
heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkU2Pya8E026dstj7MkvE1YtjTdrmQdaYRwVg22GTMMZGJSfJc9KyzuTs5EKTss_cl8JS3MM1QhgA8_d7ot54lVYtJJJJm17Adheb7-9BbT1u3OQvuIn-tU6DGOLIIDPTuqnt6ei2pPMf/s640/blogger-image-225779521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkU2Pya8E026dstj7MkvE1YtjTdrmQdaYRwVg22GTMMZGJSfJc9KyzuTs5EKTss_cl8JS3MM1QhgA8_d7ot54lVYtJJJJm17Adheb7-9BbT1u3OQvuIn-tU6DGOLIIDPTuqnt6ei2pPMf/s640/blogger-image-225779521.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Was actually much better than this photo suggests, rubbish phone camera)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #262626; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy 2014 to you all. I hope it is a
happy, healthy and peaceful one. For me, I know it will be busy (work is
already crazy) but will also bring some good things –hopefully trips to Sri
Lanka, Paris, some more great theatre, more great times with friends. But
really, if it is half as good as 2013 has been, I will have done all right.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-87067952345033866562013-11-24T13:17:00.001-08:002013-11-24T13:26:20.079-08:00Two years on.<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Those of you who follow me on Instagram/Facebook etc will already know this, but please indulge me anyway. Two years ago today I wrote this:</span></div>
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<a href="http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/life-as-we-know-it.html"><span style="font-family: inherit;">http://please-stop-the-world.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/life-as-we-know-it.html</span></a></div>
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<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And guess what, I was right. Nothing ever has been the same again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You find ways of getting on with life. You find ways of getting through. But at the end of the day, there's just always something missing. Something intangibly different.</span></div>
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<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm really not generally a 'woe-is-me' type person. Shit happens and you just have to get on with it. I just really really miss my mum. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It feels a bit more acute these past few weeks because, well...all right. Some of you know there is, kind of, possibly, maybe a new boy on the scene. And it's very, very weird to me that I will never tell my mum I'm seeing someone. Not, you understand, because she'd be happy for me- she wouldn't. My mum was a great one for making her mind up about people and sticking to it come hell or high water. And certainly if I picked someone my judgement was bound to be flawed. She'd definitely think there was something wrong with him and would tell me not to bother. And it kind of bothers me now that no one is doing that. Everyone is insanely happy for me that I'm seeing someone who makes me smile. I need someone to tell me he's got fatal flaws and is probably going to break my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This week, with no one to tell me that, I decided to try and prove it to myself. This is despite the fact that I have spent AGES trying not to 'let out the crazy' in front of him (a la Elliot Read in 'Scrubs'). I worked myself up into a state of panic and then texted him at midnight asking 'where are we going? What do you see this as?' (Yes really. Are you cringing for me? I am). Then I spent the night lying awake convincing myself I had ruined it all. I was frankly astonished to get a text from him the next morning pointing out that my text was quite full on (true) and that he didn't want to rush into anything (me neither) but he does really enjoy being with me. No, I don't know why either. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Which is certainly the most stressful and roundabout way of achieving anything that there has ever been. I am truly my mother's daughter. Here's to you, Mum. You'd be proud. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBrO9ecbrA7ZlRFVpzvIy-Wll07VYay6BvMu-vE9t3Fp0qKJZkOqqzWztYXztPK7xp04tZaYL5v_KhhPIxGzsZOj2Bu0161P8KKN5iMTLVTx4U753uGTJhdMIqKmOtYWyhPpEoRGhfRT8/s640/blogger-image-466283410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBrO9ecbrA7ZlRFVpzvIy-Wll07VYay6BvMu-vE9t3Fp0qKJZkOqqzWztYXztPK7xp04tZaYL5v_KhhPIxGzsZOj2Bu0161P8KKN5iMTLVTx4U753uGTJhdMIqKmOtYWyhPpEoRGhfRT8/s640/blogger-image-466283410.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Photo taken at Mum's grave this morning. Via my Instagram. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(For those who want to know more about the boy, don't worry, I fully intend to blog the whole crazy story so far, when I can figure out how to make it NOT sound entirely crazy...)</span></div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-77264751720159203182013-09-23T15:37:00.001-07:002013-09-23T15:43:13.286-07:00Preconceptions.<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So let's do some backtracking. In January and February I was in Asia fulfilling a long held dream- to see Thailand, and the temples of Cambodia. I decided (because I'm basically a wimp) to join a group trip rather than DIYing it and after a bit of homework I went for a company called Intrepid. The trips they offered were numerous but the one I went for was called the Great Indochina Loop- 28 days travelling through Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You will note that there's a couple of countries there that weren't on my original wishlist. I knew very little about Vietnam except that they'd been in a war with America which had featured in 'Forrest Gump', good knowledge no?! About Laos I knew even less, in fact I'd barely even heard of it. I just thought since I was travelling all that way I might as well try and see as much as I could while I was there. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And unbelievably (well actually probably quite believably) I enjoyed most of all the place I knew least about. Laos just blew my mind. It's such a tiny poor little country but it's so beautiful. We spent 2 days on a boat sailing down the Mekong river, between mountains and herds of water buffalo, passing villages where the children waved to us as we went by, watching the sun sparkling off the flecks of fool's gold in the water and turning stunning colours as it set.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of those 2 days we arrived into Luang Prabang. It's a World Heritage city and if any city can make you understand why it should be a World Heritage city then Luang Prabang is it. The most impressive temple is Wat Xieng Thong which is covered in bright and incredibly detailed animal mosaics, but the museum, the palace and several of the other temples are equally impressive. I climbed to the top of Mount Phousi and watched people setting caged songbirds free to bring them good karma (them, not the birds, I think the birds' bad karma was ending up in the cages in the first place). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cambodia has such a tragic history that at first you get absorbed in it and fail to notice it's beauty. I spent a long time staring at the photos of the child soldiers in Tuol Sleng, the Khmer Rouge genocide prison in Phnom Penh. How could anyone be so evil as to train children to kill?? Then we went to Choeung Ek the killing fields and it was even worse. There was a tree which they killed babies against by smashing their skulls against the trunk. Think about that for a second. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also read Loung Ung's 'First They Killed My Father' while we travelled through the area and her writing about being a young child when her entire life changed nearly broke my heart, not to mention how fast she had to grow up. Read it, if you haven't. Just read it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had just about consigned Cambodia to the list of 'places with a tragic history but little to appeal today' on my list (like the Berlin Wall, for example- now I'm sure the rest of Berlin is lovely but the bit where you go to visit the museum and see the old bit of the wall they've preserved definitely is not- well it wasn't when I briefly went to Berlin in 2007 anyway). And then we got to Sambor Prei Kuk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A spectacular complex of temples which have been almost swallowed up into the jungle. The perfect fusion of history and nature.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then we got to Angkor Wat. And I lost all my words. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And this is why I travel. It's to remind me that whatever my preconceived notions, they're probably wrong. Whatever I thought my limits were, I can push them. And never, ever forget how much things can surprise you. </span></div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-5443268150310913752013-09-07T16:58:00.001-07:002013-09-07T16:58:15.230-07:00Summer in the city.I'm aware that my posts probably sound quite negative a lot of the time. That's because a lot of the stuff I want to blog about is difficult stuff. But actually, I mostly quite enjoy my life. Never more so than August. I love the summer and despite missing the heat wave of July to go and shiver in a tent in Peru (it got down to -4C, people!!) I was still lucky enough to get home in time to enjoy some lovely sunshine and do some fantastic stuff with great people. Although most of this stuff is on my Instagram, I wanted to do a quick roundup here to look at when I get sad in the depths of winter (and I will, believe me I will) and remind me that there was sunshine and laughter...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfc0pTHD6r41k0xM2CG82KiSY2Ls_3oJBASx2HW5gDAXPFV8B6CdyUV-djfH_I4TqblnPvco2z2LErHM0Z2DIZe3WkDd9QiX4MIxJoqF5PkUUjzzLrAiiThZV-MQAWAToo69VmrRW1Awa/s640/blogger-image--1454019255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfc0pTHD6r41k0xM2CG82KiSY2Ls_3oJBASx2HW5gDAXPFV8B6CdyUV-djfH_I4TqblnPvco2z2LErHM0Z2DIZe3WkDd9QiX4MIxJoqF5PkUUjzzLrAiiThZV-MQAWAToo69VmrRW1Awa/s640/blogger-image--1454019255.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Rainbow from my bedroom window my first night home from South America. Look at that sky. Just look at it. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuX9onf1UBKPOlaT-ZsAIH6FwWiGoW95kdZanj1zEMq6eXQ2-vaXEx92ura-pq69EEeAwBPSK3X35vmqueaSwQzEqn5J6URPCg50HtMofT48ES-Hch6S6PPQjHqMaFnek6f4onE2qi1YsY/s640/blogger-image--1909963871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuX9onf1UBKPOlaT-ZsAIH6FwWiGoW95kdZanj1zEMq6eXQ2-vaXEx92ura-pq69EEeAwBPSK3X35vmqueaSwQzEqn5J6URPCg50HtMofT48ES-Hch6S6PPQjHqMaFnek6f4onE2qi1YsY/s640/blogger-image--1909963871.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Later that same night. The view from the top of the Heron Tower. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIdiIYmRGAGxj-GzGVU96znolLw0qT0_Qrjioh72gUiQm17knlDp7gcgdbRoT55dR2er2igHglxGCVrh7gtbCgabQiDfLwlkSpTxNCu9Mpjqdt2s3PEZ1St8v5MFqUY0DV_euRr7eHFqHg/s640/blogger-image-1603459426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIdiIYmRGAGxj-GzGVU96znolLw0qT0_Qrjioh72gUiQm17knlDp7gcgdbRoT55dR2er2igHglxGCVrh7gtbCgabQiDfLwlkSpTxNCu9Mpjqdt2s3PEZ1St8v5MFqUY0DV_euRr7eHFqHg/s640/blogger-image-1603459426.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Gelato roses. Need I say more??</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2cdL8a5yqjs0tLUgTPrbfYyYcrYFUPfVC6UN_6DPv4irR99xug82BGDATgCjzII7osMNxhPUFYAhog41pLfpFyQiZcdYZQIARCAgO8VigWyo1LmSc860Cbspmd1ToPvT96sFj6TCnc1A/s640/blogger-image-2084241092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2cdL8a5yqjs0tLUgTPrbfYyYcrYFUPfVC6UN_6DPv4irR99xug82BGDATgCjzII7osMNxhPUFYAhog41pLfpFyQiZcdYZQIARCAgO8VigWyo1LmSc860Cbspmd1ToPvT96sFj6TCnc1A/s640/blogger-image-2084241092.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Galvin at Windows on Park Lane. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgt90odUESHMFiMm-kSuOZSuws0X5PRxzQdp_jrTrbBGVUSyDyBfNgLb40bF6Kmlk90mcYKoFSjK0Z44qR3w_HNdct1TeUhLeR-PRw9NzDpkWCkvfnrWJto4PjlHt9wdccSKGC7TqcgED-/s640/blogger-image-1602736043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgt90odUESHMFiMm-kSuOZSuws0X5PRxzQdp_jrTrbBGVUSyDyBfNgLb40bF6Kmlk90mcYKoFSjK0Z44qR3w_HNdct1TeUhLeR-PRw9NzDpkWCkvfnrWJto4PjlHt9wdccSKGC7TqcgED-/s640/blogger-image-1602736043.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Dinner on Southbank with friends. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsm5xaXu7shCz0CswVcFdRWzpwRzHzI7L3qsO66Sr4LGdlgi7XIHqDG4zvwLLQ-jgsXvRVq5zwbj8cXX0vdBoifG6jO9rOsLVRMDPOTGPN4cYIgQTmh2qEuwWsgTkytmkWZIz_Ktjvr4P/s640/blogger-image-569177760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsm5xaXu7shCz0CswVcFdRWzpwRzHzI7L3qsO66Sr4LGdlgi7XIHqDG4zvwLLQ-jgsXvRVq5zwbj8cXX0vdBoifG6jO9rOsLVRMDPOTGPN4cYIgQTmh2qEuwWsgTkytmkWZIz_Ktjvr4P/s640/blogger-image-569177760.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Seeing Nigel Kennedy at the proms. My utter utter god. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPtVL_WufTQm2YpIRVj47Y-WoTX14w3-fopo1qc0ngcEOlfWKg4Xh-0jUkLXo15F9Lb5mZXNkCgWdOD0toPDMU45mL6I0XQP9LrcU1SHRC8bLX_ZuTNkMLfo6shpy5Bw-VGsvHXzcn-RT/s640/blogger-image-193652951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrPtVL_WufTQm2YpIRVj47Y-WoTX14w3-fopo1qc0ngcEOlfWKg4Xh-0jUkLXo15F9Lb5mZXNkCgWdOD0toPDMU45mL6I0XQP9LrcU1SHRC8bLX_ZuTNkMLfo6shpy5Bw-VGsvHXzcn-RT/s640/blogger-image-193652951.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Freud's famous couch at the Sigmund Freud museum. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMV7UEcTdN39mezmLetRIx6WNub2_xOR2qWAnU0lVd9nikoNYgs5-bHyM-u5yP_EBmT_IRMmf0vpzJ6YLamXTBhWfKa23u1partraIHcnf1ZjdXtLtu4Y1G5HcjxzMdwCG1R2enskCKrz/s640/blogger-image-896382539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMV7UEcTdN39mezmLetRIx6WNub2_xOR2qWAnU0lVd9nikoNYgs5-bHyM-u5yP_EBmT_IRMmf0vpzJ6YLamXTBhWfKa23u1partraIHcnf1ZjdXtLtu4Y1G5HcjxzMdwCG1R2enskCKrz/s640/blogger-image-896382539.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Raspberry ginger beer outside in the sun with one of my best friends. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgGf-gJ89IwGTIAKe4nmxAbythIOw-4VigF4XMlv3viLwVpfcLMElaDVPkGOEpoQ9136Cwj1IHvr3j5NnAZ7Isyv1pNpQG_xq-jhGTeGxmSxC38oIuvYo4ZtWxUY5vypzlluoBdKgek9d/s640/blogger-image-933538413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgGf-gJ89IwGTIAKe4nmxAbythIOw-4VigF4XMlv3viLwVpfcLMElaDVPkGOEpoQ9136Cwj1IHvr3j5NnAZ7Isyv1pNpQG_xq-jhGTeGxmSxC38oIuvYo4ZtWxUY5vypzlluoBdKgek9d/s640/blogger-image-933538413.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Laughter with the lovely Bex. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3W33aetsR756fTwNbGatQXwnQe9P3TVayFJTTyXY9xclykk8sysWveyjVqx3VzeRAe2fZnAIEdsfmnVfldnqdEqo8F7ReS9qqx2xRkBUMj91R22WBf9IpYd5CVPsZ1kcKNCxtEfMNoBL/s640/blogger-image--355586134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3W33aetsR756fTwNbGatQXwnQe9P3TVayFJTTyXY9xclykk8sysWveyjVqx3VzeRAe2fZnAIEdsfmnVfldnqdEqo8F7ReS9qqx2xRkBUMj91R22WBf9IpYd5CVPsZ1kcKNCxtEfMNoBL/s640/blogger-image--355586134.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Sushi and cocktails with my amazing best friends. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhmX9sI1Ynw8eEmh5dYGrMEOMCTwx3drMs1lllMnhcGAQ5UAMy63MbCpi31pcU0awbzwrRljrVXu8EGfgekRepNTqXUJWNz4M8BfNW3xGSnNjQKnyLUCFyI6F1pvSp-7c0a-6KT87_XFE/s640/blogger-image--366651431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhmX9sI1Ynw8eEmh5dYGrMEOMCTwx3drMs1lllMnhcGAQ5UAMy63MbCpi31pcU0awbzwrRljrVXu8EGfgekRepNTqXUJWNz4M8BfNW3xGSnNjQKnyLUCFyI6F1pvSp-7c0a-6KT87_XFE/s640/blogger-image--366651431.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Happiness is being in Drink Shop Do with the AOWettes. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuEkmEP5v2CxIMleHUkBfYOpbDkTR4RN0gNXgtkfF1Jj_78h3A-CwsywCbjP2sMzqg17_cZ2dhFkGGOjIKy_BKwbXLzWHvAhpMAJQbW6l6S6AlU1NcILERjhUkbwf0OIHseBIj8KfV5pp/s640/blogger-image-1318366885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuEkmEP5v2CxIMleHUkBfYOpbDkTR4RN0gNXgtkfF1Jj_78h3A-CwsywCbjP2sMzqg17_cZ2dhFkGGOjIKy_BKwbXLzWHvAhpMAJQbW6l6S6AlU1NcILERjhUkbwf0OIHseBIj8KfV5pp/s640/blogger-image-1318366885.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At Sadlers Wells theatre to watch the ballet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XtCmon5rl-_lStONIvHMoMJOQsqKz0DyXslPGvQjoqArzYOIJKHAJWJ34mnW9sTUW9LqTOW2qtJNmmjNJq3tl3sOBBYnta76-pmIegBkQKCg-5g9IlNZgkJSmqMKsQNFFgIcXXyaj8I6/s640/blogger-image-258021043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XtCmon5rl-_lStONIvHMoMJOQsqKz0DyXslPGvQjoqArzYOIJKHAJWJ34mnW9sTUW9LqTOW2qtJNmmjNJq3tl3sOBBYnta76-pmIegBkQKCg-5g9IlNZgkJSmqMKsQNFFgIcXXyaj8I6/s640/blogger-image-258021043.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A date at the 'beach' on Southbank. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx3sThDGzN-wtP0w4cL3MtRRbdJj8YYi2_qlAgan7yNmvEUH-MhzxMSryI_Gmdiv3FVPstQ6ITTpwkL3gyo6rFSmYq8F7pK_zuhdiXbV4SaQPzPh_cnIHABInmnUfpfBXu5J_AZ0nBJMk/s640/blogger-image-1576713382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx3sThDGzN-wtP0w4cL3MtRRbdJj8YYi2_qlAgan7yNmvEUH-MhzxMSryI_Gmdiv3FVPstQ6ITTpwkL3gyo6rFSmYq8F7pK_zuhdiXbV4SaQPzPh_cnIHABInmnUfpfBXu5J_AZ0nBJMk/s640/blogger-image-1576713382.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beautiful evening at the open air theatre in Regents Park to watch 'The Sound of Music'</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LteIeS1O3y_W-Jir2dSAENL16G9DBh1qX-6AS07ah8Ku7_sf0hUxtwC-j40Mk4L2NL-6NKE_9PDbGyTLbL3QKO1mW14xp_C25LfOSFp0GD5lI8rwugjxgHgFn4gon-NIV9OPaZeUJKST/s640/blogger-image--1257050115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LteIeS1O3y_W-Jir2dSAENL16G9DBh1qX-6AS07ah8Ku7_sf0hUxtwC-j40Mk4L2NL-6NKE_9PDbGyTLbL3QKO1mW14xp_C25LfOSFp0GD5lI8rwugjxgHgFn4gon-NIV9OPaZeUJKST/s640/blogger-image--1257050115.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Laughing at 'Punk Science' at the Science Museum late night opening. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgtCIHMNeaalCaTg2SCu3ZMgaGQ_Tl1357wqO7iBnd91UFt3pvmRn2HVwzruElBaqId6fqEXc-10zm_BMoDfvD2kT79EVKikEC-3mouhNfBcdIiNG0syi44JaI0aZzkyKDWCXLClucYro/s640/blogger-image--1171095823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFgtCIHMNeaalCaTg2SCu3ZMgaGQ_Tl1357wqO7iBnd91UFt3pvmRn2HVwzruElBaqId6fqEXc-10zm_BMoDfvD2kT79EVKikEC-3mouhNfBcdIiNG0syi44JaI0aZzkyKDWCXLClucYro/s640/blogger-image--1171095823.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Walking home from work on a beautiful evening. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBgSLZCEz1qgcqQxRrINjuAha3I4PinFQjAdIpB8y9K5EDibk8FM18ZbqTGqk2wD2rpvXzG5wMPQ3rI5mWu53iYNS525rbNckI0fgYvirHC1LIHz0Bm3c3hPcNju1_NCA9vgIi52-G3YH/s640/blogger-image--444204207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBgSLZCEz1qgcqQxRrINjuAha3I4PinFQjAdIpB8y9K5EDibk8FM18ZbqTGqk2wD2rpvXzG5wMPQ3rI5mWu53iYNS525rbNckI0fgYvirHC1LIHz0Bm3c3hPcNju1_NCA9vgIi52-G3YH/s640/blogger-image--444204207.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beautiful beautiful Cambridge. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANdbh-VENIPRbZjYpqviH2EQuhZ8B2RmP6MZ8Z-RoxJsEhv3RguSV_EOEWT6wxti6GTb3amSAbM6nNnRaY8QnyyxS6pBmD9GWe1f7D4ag2Rl8mG21zeBk3VkVCSVyW3A7Gaee0119zB0m/s640/blogger-image-249833924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANdbh-VENIPRbZjYpqviH2EQuhZ8B2RmP6MZ8Z-RoxJsEhv3RguSV_EOEWT6wxti6GTb3amSAbM6nNnRaY8QnyyxS6pBmD9GWe1f7D4ag2Rl8mG21zeBk3VkVCSVyW3A7Gaee0119zB0m/s640/blogger-image-249833924.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div>Completing the month by completing a 10k. One of my proudest ever achievements. </div><div><br></div><div>Thanks for sticking with me. Next post will be less self congratulatory, I promise. </div>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-16416301186797926432013-08-17T14:44:00.001-07:002013-08-18T00:41:23.342-07:00Moving mountains.<span style="font-family: inherit;">So here as promised is a blog entry. I'd almost reached the point of stopping blogging, not because I don't like writing (I do) and not because I don't have anything to say (I do) but because I really didn't think it was worth wasting my time writing stuff which I genuinely thought no one was reading. Turns out I was wrong. Who knew?!</span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">I know the last time I wrote I'd just come back from Asia and described it as an amazing experience (it was) and said I had a lot more to say about it sometime (I do). But since then I have been on another trip (yes yes, I know, am spoilt brat who is never here). I got back 2 weeks ago from South America -Ecuador (mainly the Galapagos islands), Peru and Bolivia. It was a very different kind of trip from Asia -infinitely more challenging. The Inca trail was the hardest physical thing I have ever done in my life - 45 km over 3 1/2 days reaching altitudes of 4215m above sea level. At the end of day 1 I was exhausted. Had there been an option to turn back I would have done so. But there isn't. Once you've started, you have to carry on unless you become seriously injured (and yes, I did contemplate breaking my own leg so that I could be stretchered down off the mountain). </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the guys in my group, Benny, kept on telling me what a sense of achievement I'd feel when I'd completed it, how pleased and proud. Do you know what I actually felt when I completed it? Relieved and exhausted. Just pure, pure fatigue. We got to Macchu Picchu about 9am having started walking about 5.30am on the final morning. One of the girls in the other group (who hadn't done the Inca trail and had had a proper night's sleep- in a bed!- the night before) said that she cried when she saw Macchu Picchu because she was so overwhelmed by its beauty. I can barely remember my thoughts when I first saw it except 'thank god it's stopped raining' (the first couple of hours that day had been walking in the rain and the dark. Yes, it was just as fun as that sounds). I certainly wasn't overwhelmed by its beauty. I'm just glad I took lots of photos because if I hadn't I'm not sure I'd have remembered it that well. </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">Those were my thoughts at the time I finished. But now it's coming up to 4 weeks since I finished the trail and guess what? Benny was right. When I think back to it now, I think less about the pain I felt with every step (although I've not forgotten it altogether, far from it) and more about the perseverance that kept me going. More about strength. </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">I use the word 'strength' for a specific reason. Yes, my legs are stronger (it's a delight to me to find that running on the flat is now comparatively easy after those mountains!) but I'm thinking more of mental strength. There was a reason for going to South America when I did, a reason aside from just wanting to see it (which I obviously did too). The other reason was a desire to be out of the country for a certain event. The marriage of my ex-best-friend to my ex-brother-in-law. </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, this is my actual life, it's not a bad romance novel. When I got married over 3 years ago, my then-best-friend (bridesmaid) got together with my ex-husband's brother (best man). They have been together ever since. I cannot describe the pain I have felt as she has taken my place in the family, as she has become the new favourite daughter-in-law, as she has gone on holiday with my ex-husband and his new girlfriend. It's not about me not wanting her to be happy. It's about feeling jealous that she got the life that should have been mine. </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">And so I knew I wanted to be well away for the 'happy event'. I knew I'd need to be doing something where I couldn't torture myself imagining every second of the day when she became Mrs C, a name that used to be mine. And that's part of what made me decide to climb a mountain. And I did -not just physically, but mentally. And ALL of it was hard, really really hard. But I did it. And just like Benny said, I do feel a sense of achievement. A better achievement than when I was Mrs C. </span><br><span style="font-family: inherit;">A better strength. And as an added bonus, my legs look pretty good right now too. </span><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqClWriBHjJMk8MhRgVzvJgRqYC0StFw5O8gqXbbTpFaIIZKeOmxfdKRe8qEmBFf2ENXjUF32nVbYjnvRqGvwzyfJWR1o4KZlgqQv0-0IZIlwEBK-zx7e0l8jpl6lSuLBXM1wBzU_1nN0/s640/blogger-image--2127660930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqClWriBHjJMk8MhRgVzvJgRqYC0StFw5O8gqXbbTpFaIIZKeOmxfdKRe8qEmBFf2ENXjUF32nVbYjnvRqGvwzyfJWR1o4KZlgqQv0-0IZIlwEBK-zx7e0l8jpl6lSuLBXM1wBzU_1nN0/s640/blogger-image--2127660930.jpg"></a></div>And so it begins... At the start of the Inca trail<br><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmqdu5fQTM0ZjgIwhdCAtOPcltOx4YqZXaDzdLvvQTck2IEZ5h6a-FKa2Xai1mcFopxfbqutaSu6ZPC1AXeI2Ew0mWbIYtiZW-WpafSdpzKvNqtYh3dIXRFHqFCB5mQ-iW4UiCu6EFw5X/s640/blogger-image-2146885005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmqdu5fQTM0ZjgIwhdCAtOPcltOx4YqZXaDzdLvvQTck2IEZ5h6a-FKa2Xai1mcFopxfbqutaSu6ZPC1AXeI2Ew0mWbIYtiZW-WpafSdpzKvNqtYh3dIXRFHqFCB5mQ-iW4UiCu6EFw5X/s640/blogger-image-2146885005.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At the top of Dead Woman's Pass, the highest point of the trail, 4215m above sea level</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBL2uw9Ws-QH5aDKhSCXoKOndvhyUVXLam-iYVSOBiYyMHMSiwjBzZQAxLGncSrQaV8hsm_FiYUXx7CiL91K-FTWx74GmsjhwxlHq5xbnYDOpRd5S8Dk570DJ_S0Dsn_GHWp6xb3LgwAB0/s640/blogger-image--1849783283.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We made it! 'The survivors photo' at Macchu Picchu. Benny my cheerleader is on my left as you look at the photo. </div></div></div>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-27198814930870998692013-08-15T14:12:00.000-07:002013-08-15T14:12:14.334-07:00Look Bex!!!...I posted just for you!!<br />
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A proper post before the weekend is over. I PROMISE.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-35680974660777280602013-07-31T14:13:00.000-07:002014-03-05T08:51:13.313-08:00The books that made me me<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ooh look. It's me, over on Any Other Woman, being a book geek. Quel surprise.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.294118); font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/2013/07/the-books-that-made-me-me/">http://anyotherwoman.com/2013/07/the-books-that-made-me-me/</a></span></div>
Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-54993766093928629772013-03-08T15:31:00.002-08:002013-03-08T15:31:55.032-08:00The anti-mothers day post. So I'm back from my travels (for now....more on that later) and am beyond shellshocked to be home. Thailand was so beautiful, Cambodia so tragically spectacular and Laos just blew. my. mind.<br />
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I may even share some photos at some point (I know, revolutionary!) but for now I have something else to say.<br />
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Mother's Day.<br />
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So it's 15 and a half months since I lost my beloved mum. My best friend, guide and supporter. The woman who cried when I got my (bad) A level results because she knew I had let myself down. The memory of those tears is what kept me going through a year of retakes, 5 years of medical school and years of postgraduate exams.<br />
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She's still the first person I want to tell everything to.<br />
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Mother's Day was never a big deal to us when she was alive. I always got her a card, and usually flowers, but we never did those big posh meals out or anything. She's not that kind of person and neither am I.<br />
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Now she's not here anymore, I suddenly find it really hard that I don't have anything to plan for Mother's Day. I can easily cry in the card aisle in Sainsburys because I no longer need to buy a pink flowery card (why are they always pink and flowery?) As my inbox fills with spam emails about buying your mum chocolates, jewellery or something from Amazon (yes, those are the kind of online retailers I buy from and hence end up on the mailing lists of- make of that what you will) I hit the 'delete' button with increasing fury.<br />
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What I'm really furious about isn't just that I don't have to waste £10 on a tacky card and wilting overpriced flowers. I'm furious because I don't like that retailers are capitalising on something that really, people should do anyway -ie. appreciating your loved ones. Want to buy your mum flowers in September? Do it. Want to take her out for dinner in November? Why not! Why should it just be one day of the year?<br />
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And that's the real nub of the issue. I'm angry, really, at myself. I'm angry that I didn't tell and show my mother more that I loved and appreciated her, when I had the chance. I hope she knows.<br />
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A quote from one of my favourite films 'Love, Actually', sums this up pretty much perfectly, even though it's actually said by Daniel about his recently-deceased wife:<br />
'<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Tell her that you love her'....'I never told your mom enough. I should have told her everyday because she was perfect everyday'...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Happy Mother's Day to the mums out there. To those of you who have a mum, call her and tell her you love her. Don't wait til Sunday. Do it now. </span>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-20331619128175984842013-01-10T07:25:00.003-08:002013-01-10T07:25:55.724-08:00Fast forwardTime, as ever, has got away from me. I have the words inside me, just not the time to get them down on the written page. Not only have I not written about a dozen blog entries from 2012 which are all half-formed in my head, I haven't done the round up of the year I intended (which, to be fair, would have been of interest to no one except me). Nonetheless, I would ask you to bear with me, because I am finally (after what seems like the longest wait in the world) going on my Big Adventure Of A Lifetime (tm) and setting off to Asia to visit Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. It's a part of the world I've never been and have always wanted to go to -so I have decided to turn 'unemployment' into a Positive Lifestyle Choice by taking this trip.<br />
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So, hopefully, I will return re-energised, revitalised and with some much more interesting viewpoints on life than my default 'woe is me'. In the meantime, please wish me few mosquito bites, lots of sunshine and no muggings!Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-55172913571773594592012-09-25T16:02:00.000-07:002013-08-18T01:21:44.342-07:00How many warnings does it take...?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;">So the whole dating thing. I was quite resistant to Internet dating, not because I thought only weirdos and freaks used it (several good friends have met lovely partners via Internet dating) but because in a way I'm quite fatalistic when it comes to dating 'if it's meant to happen and I'm meant to meet someone then it'll happen'. Funny attitude in a way- but the thing is that for me, there's a very fine line between finding dating fun and entertaining, and finding it horrible and stressful ('why hasn't he called? Shall I call? What if he doesn't like me? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME??!!') I don't like the whole dating game, I've never had to play it before (whenever I've met someone before it's been 'right, I like you, you like me, now we're together'). So I wasn't exactly enthusiastic and my first couple of experiences earlier in the year didn't really endear me to it (one guy who never got in touch again after what I thought was quite a good date, and one guy who was just really, really dull).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;">But, you know, it's summer and the sun's shining and seeing people walking down the street kissing and holding hands makes you think, 'well, maybe', so I picked the nicest photos of me and psyched myself up...and before I knew it I was chatting to several guys and planning dates, the first one being with an Australian banker, A. His opening line was to ask me which surgery I worked in which in retrospect should have been the first warning...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 24px;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Fast forward to the day of the date and I woke up to a message saying 'I found you on Facebook and you look lovely. And I can see you must have recently got divorced, I hope you're OK'. This should have been the second warning...</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For some foolish reason I still went on the date. God only knows why, I think I felt like giving him the benefit of the doubt- in fact I told him that when we met. I knew straight away I shouldn't have gone when he said to me 'I'm sorry if I freaked you out looking at your photos but you should really be grateful to me for showing you your security settings aren't good enough'. That should have been the third warning...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually he asked me the question I knew he would, 'tell me why your marriage failed- if you don't mind talking about it'. I said 'It's hard for me to talk about, not because I'm still in love with my ex, but because it's inextricably linked with my mum's illness and death which is hard for me'. I started telling the story and got as far as 'and my dad was going into hospital for spinal surgery and my mum was having chemo and so I was moving home for a month to look after them but the night before I left my husband said to me 'I can't do this any more, I'm moving out' ' and he said 'I can't believe it, you were newlyweds... Did you give him lots of sex?' I tried to laugh -assuming he was making a joke, albeit one in very poor taste -and he said, 'No, but seriously...did you?'</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Do you know what makes me saddest of all? I have always, always wanted to throw a drink over someone, it's one of my life aspirations (like being chased through an airport as per 'Love Actually') and yet this was the perfect opportunity and I didn't take it.</span></div>
</span>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-37179426112489701742012-09-21T00:57:00.000-07:002013-08-18T01:19:30.700-07:00Any Other PartySo I'm pretty sure I deserve the Bad Blogger Award 2012 (or maybe just the Absent Blogger Award 2012) and worst of all this isn't even a blog post, it's simply a redirect. Last week I (wo)manned up and on Friday night I took myself off to Any Other Party, the fabulous social gathering organised by the girls at <a href="http://www.anyotherwoman.com/" target="_blank">Any Other Woman</a>. The only person I'd met before was the gorgeous <a href="http://www.theprettiesthobo.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">Gemma</a> and I was beyond nervous about meeting everyone else because I knew they'd all be COOL and FUNNY and SMART. Turns out- yes they were, but somehow I still felt like I belonged. Anna K, in particular, it was a delight to meet. And of course <a href="http://www.florencefinds.com/" target="_blank">Rebecca</a>.<br />
More about the evening over at Any Other Woman: <a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/2012/09/any-other-party-the-london-edition/" target="_blank">http://anyotherwoman.com/2012/09/any-other-party-the-london-edition/</a> that's me in photo number 6, laughing like a loon with Rebecca (no idea what at). Thanks so much ladies!Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-69902111396632226102012-08-29T14:11:00.000-07:002014-07-09T04:24:12.647-07:00I hate bad grammar. Too annoyed to even think of a good title. I've just had to stop reading a post on a blog I normally like because the grammar is so appalling. I'm not going to apologise for being a grammar snob and I'm not going to apologise for the fact that reading the phrase 'would of' makes me cringe.<br />
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I spend enough time being angry, frustrated and sad on a daily basis because of what my job exposes me to. Why would I subject myself to it in my free time? True, you might think that with everything else I contend with in life, getting upset at people murdering the English language should not even register on my scale, but what can I say- it really, really does. Some people don't like rudeness (it doesn't bother me, I can give as good as I get). Some people don't like spiders (they don't bother me either). I don't like bad grammar.<br />
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Thank you. Rant over. How are you?Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-84422891978129811252012-06-25T07:27:00.000-07:002012-06-25T07:27:20.995-07:00I wish I was one of those girls......who can look chic on a flight in thin layers, leggings, ballet pumps and maybe even a Mulberry handbag. What I am, actually, is a girl who feels the need to take so much stuff on holiday that my suitcase is crammed to bursting so I have to wear jeans, trainers and a jumper (or maybe 2 jumpers, that's layering for you) so the bulky stuff isn't taking up room in my case. And don't even get me started on the handbag issue- I can't stand not having stuff to entertain me on a flight (have I talked before about having the attention span of a goldfish? If not I will soon...) so my absolute minimum travel requirements are iPhone, iPad, book, vaguely trashy mag (currently favouring Glamour and Red), and if I can get it past security my knitting/sewing. This necessitates a shoulder bag the size of a small country.
I will never be a chic-on-a-plane girl.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-81979391717687340602012-03-19T16:41:00.000-07:002012-03-19T16:41:29.067-07:00How to be a woman...my arse.Have been intending to get/read Caitlin Moran's 'How to Be a Woman' for a while ( <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/How-To-Woman-Caitlin-Moran/dp/0091940737/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1332200269&sr=8-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/How-To-Woman-Caitlin-Moran/dp/0091940737/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1332200269&sr=8-1</a> ) but flicked through it in the bookshop today and found myself on the weddings chapter where she has a rant about a friend who's getting married on the Isle of Wight....<br />
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'All that money and trouble!! 4 nights in a hotel!! Well all I can say is they'd better not get divorced. In fact I'm thinking of sewing them together so they can't ever split up'....<br />
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Well, screw you. I got married in Italy and 'dragged' 35 close friends and family out there for a week. It was amazing and the fact it ended in divorce is the biggest disappointment of my life. And apparently my friends are the ones who've suffered most because they were the ones who had to go all the way out there for something that ended in failure.<br />
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Perhaps I've had a sense of humour bypass but I now refuse to buy it on principle.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-51312508892424290052012-03-05T03:01:00.000-08:002013-08-18T00:44:15.577-07:00The big smokeWhen I first started telling people I was planning to move to London, I was mostly pleased by my friends' positive comments, but also slightly saddened by a few negative comments. 'London's very big' and 'you'll miss your friends' were the main ones (though there were many others).<br />
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A month in and I have no regrets, not one, nada. Well actually maybe one -that I didn't do it sooner, that I let the bastard M stop me for so long.<br />
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Why do I love London?? I can't entirely explain it. It's the buzz, the energy, the feeling of endless possibilities. The knowledge that I can do what I want, be who I want, almost completely unconstrained. (Don't worry, I'm not planning on running amok through North London with a sawn-off shotgun). The wonderful Anna K puts it better than I ever could:<br />
<a href="http://anyotherwoman.com/2012/01/dear-london/" target="_blank">http://anyotherwoman.com/2012/01/dear-london/</a>Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265178099031368430.post-51129186313094485252012-02-14T02:55:00.000-08:002012-03-05T02:56:59.987-08:00Happy Valentine's day.Well, there's timing and then there's timing... Just had a phone call from my solicitor to let me know that my decree absolute has been granted. I knew there was a reason I hated Valentine's Day.<br />
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Screw you St. Valentine, and all you (allegedly) stand for.Nitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15914594953834786620noreply@blogger.com0