Fried Eggs and Close Calls

Argh! This stubborn almost-a-cold won’t leave me be! Just break out properly or bugger off! I’m not ill, but not completely well either – have that slightly sore throat and a bit of a sniffle, but it doesn’t seem to be much more than that. Oh well. Pouring wine on it probably wasn’t a great idea, but we had a great evening – first a couple of drinks (OK, three) at our local, then another at home with dinner. Such a hard life for me, this. My gorgeous boyfriend comes home from work, hands me a bunch of flowers and informs me he is cooking me dinner. Terrible times.

We decided that a scary film was in order. I scare easily and I’m scared of the dark (yep – at the tender young age of 38, this is still the case). I remember when I saw the Blair Witch Project at the cinema, and how after that I couldn’t sleep with the lights off for months. I’m that pathetic. There are a number of scary films that have messed me up like that, just as bad as the Blair Witch Project did. We recently watched the Purge, which was pretty bad, and also a film B’s youngest son recommended that I can’t remember the title of, but it was quite fucked up too. The logical thing would of course be to NOT watch stuff like that, given how much it gets to me, but I almost have this compulsion to go ahead.. The best way of describing it, I think, is terrified fascination. I don’t want to watch but can’t make myself look away.

Paranormal Activity, B suggested. Sure, Anna agreed but shouldn’t have. OK, so we ended up missing a bit by having sex, but rewound it and carried on. Carried on watching, that is, we were done having sex. For the moment, anyway. OK, you get the picture. This film has all the ingredients to scare me senseless, and it did. With still another half hour left to go, I couldn’t take anymore, especially as B said the end got even more frightening. No thanks. Nej tack. Because I nagged him and couldn’t let it go despite refusing to watch any more of it, he told me how it ends and I’m very grateful that I never watched it through. B had obviously seen it before.

Need to get some other films lined up and steer clear of scary stuff for a while. We did download the old Nightmare on Elm Street films, but they’re more comical than they are scary, with the naff 80s special effects that were probably at the time considered cutting edge.

Gah! Have a bit of a cough too, and each time I cough, I get that fluey kind of taste in my mouth. Started the morning with a ‘vitamin bomb’ (a C-vitamin fizz and a Berocca – probably 5 zillion % of your recommended daily intake of vitamins and minerals) and fried eggs and tomatoes, and I do feel a little better, but I’m bored with this now. It’s lingered all week without turning into a proper cold and it’s just pissing me off now.

B’s at the gym, his usual Saturday morning body pump class. Once he’s back I guess we’ll get ready and head off towards Hammersmith, to the kiwi pub on the river where we’re going to watch the All Blacks game against Scotland. Always fun. Perhaps a long, brisk walk is that I need to be put right again. Actually, it’s not THAT far, I’d say it’s probably 3 and a bit miles, something like that. Would make a nice run, actually, but I have this stupid almost-a-cold and also have already showered and have poured myself into my skinny jeans, that are so tight sitting down is slightly difficult.

At least it’s not raining, and I hope it does stay that way – the sky’s ominously grey and the air feels moist. It must have been raining earlier, the ground and balcony floor wet. Not particularly cold though, just your typical mild-ish, wet and grey British autumn weather. I need the cold! Come ooooon, send some snow! Having said that, this country grinds to a halt any time a single snow flake lands on this little island. It was so funny, must have been just before Christmas four years ago, when a good four or five inches of snow fell on London. Heathrow was closed for three days (me and Monkey were scheduled to fly to Sweden on the fourth, so it was a close call) and because I’m always incredibly lucky, our flight was one of the third of scheduled departures that went.

When we landed in Scandiland, the runway was white with ice and snow and the cover of snow around it must have been three or four foot deep. No delays, no fuss, flights taking off and landing just like they would on a sunny July afternoon. Then again, we always get snow, so we’re better prepared for it. Still, you do end up getting snow here too – albeit nowhere near as much – so you’d think the hapless Brits wouldn’t be so bloody shocked every time.

Alright, that’s enough UK-bashing for today.

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