Summer 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...

Rainbow from my bedroom window my first night home from South America. Look at that sky. Just look at it. 

Later that same night. The view from the top of the Heron Tower. 

Gelato roses. Need I say more??

Galvin at Windows on Park Lane. 

Dinner on Southbank with friends. 

Seeing Nigel Kennedy at the proms. My utter utter god. 

Freud's famous couch at the Sigmund Freud museum. 

Raspberry ginger beer outside in the sun with one of my best friends. 

Laughter with the lovely Bex. 

Sushi and cocktails with my amazing best friends. 

Happiness is being in Drink Shop Do with the AOWettes. 

At Sadlers Wells theatre to watch the ballet. 

A date at the 'beach' on Southbank. 

Beautiful evening at the open air theatre in Regents Park to watch 'The Sound of Music'

Laughing at 'Punk Science' at the Science Museum late night opening. 

Walking home from work on a beautiful evening. 

Beautiful beautiful Cambridge. 

Completing the month by completing a 10k. One of my proudest ever achievements. 

Thanks for sticking with me. Next post will be less self congratulatory, I promise. 

Moving mountains.

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?!
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). 
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. 
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. 
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. 
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. 
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. 
A better strength. And as an added bonus, my legs look pretty good right now too. 

And so it begins... At the start of the Inca trail

At the top of Dead Woman's Pass, the highest point of the trail, 4215m above sea level

We made it! 'The survivors photo' at Macchu Picchu. Benny my cheerleader is on my left as you look at the photo. 

Look Bex!!!

...I posted just for you!!

A proper post before the weekend is over. I PROMISE.

The books that made me me

Ooh look. It's me, over on Any Other Woman, being a book geek. Quel surprise.

http://anyotherwoman.com/2013/07/the-books-that-made-me-me/

The 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.

I may even share some photos at some point (I know, revolutionary!) but for now I have something else to say.

Mother's Day.

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.

She's still the first person I want to tell everything to.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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:
'Tell her that you love her'....'I never told your mom enough. I should have told her everyday because she was perfect everyday'...

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. 

Fast forward

Time, 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.

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!

How many warnings does it take...?

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).

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...

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...

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...

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?'

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.