Deaf Little Miss Tia Pussykins

Not sure whether to be relieved that I no longer think Miss Tia Pussykins is senile, or ashamed that I didn't spot sooner that she was deaf.

It wasn't until last week that all the signs of deafness finally got through to me ... although cats are notoriously clever at hiding disabilities.

I'd accused her of being ignorant when she didn't look up when I spoke to her. I knew it made her jump when I stroked her if she was asleep ... and she sleeps very deeply in her quiet little world.

Being in the caravan has also hidden her deafness because everything shakes, rattles and rolls with the smallest movement ... unless it's me moving, as I'm light footed.

Fast aeroplanes still faze her - we vibrate - but my Dyson doesn't bother her until I'm cleaning right up to where she is.

No wonder she cries - loudly - in the night when she doesn't know where we are. As soon as I go in to fetch her she greets me with a happy little meow ... although I think she's lost her 'trill', I've not heard that for a while ... she still purrs a lot though.

We'll have to see how she fares at home where the floors downstairs are concrete. She does mostly live upstairs though.

In herself she's quite well, loves her treats and hasn't lost any weight. Not at all bony and she still bounces around like a kitten at times.

She doesn't go out much now, this is a relief as the outside world is full of danger to a deaf cat ... particularly one that previously had very good hearing.

It also explains why she's as clingy as she is, she rarely leaves my side now and is always pleased when my grumpy old man comes back in. She likes to sit between us ...  bless her little cotton socks.

We still talk to her as if she could hear us, I'm sure she'd panic more if she didn't see our lips move ... she may even be able to lip-read up to a point.

We do a lot of slow blinking at one another now to say "I love you" ... but it doesn't stop me saying it to her out loud.

Now, if only she'd wear an hearing aid ... and don't think I haven't tried her with my Mr Grumpy's when he went to bed one night...

My Disease And I

For the first time since 1983 I had to give in and visit a prescription hander outer. That has soooo spoilt my record, but hey! ... I didn't need any smarties  ... aka antibiotics.
Nope, my disease required anti-virals - Acyclovir - in the hope it would prevent complications and stop it in its tracks ... even a teeny weeny bit.

My rash was impressive and at the first sign I thought I'd been bit by some evil munchy flying ba**ard ... I said as much in the big consultation room in the sky - Facebook - hmmm, where I posted a photo of my 'bites' on the Wednesday afternoon.

I was diagnosed immediately with shingles even though I argued that it was impossible as I was so healthy ... completely forgetting I'd had a headache for two days and just didn't feel like getting up off my arris to go out and spend some money. As this is my number one hobby I should have suspected summat was amiss but I just put it down to wimmins 'ormones.

"Go to the docs" ... "no I'm fine" ... "you'll be sorry" ... "I'm busy" ... "she won't go to the quacks unless she's taken unconscious in a wheelbarrow" ... "Sigh, I'll go Monday if I'm spotty or worse, I feel fine" ... "sigh, what's wrong with now?" ... "I'm ironing" ... and so it went on.

A sister - the bossy one - text me with making appointment instructions. By now even I suspected shingles because when I'd finished ironing I asked Doctor Google what shingles looked like ... ooer missus. I text back to say I'd make an appointment at my docs and I actually meant it ... not that I even knew who he was as two had started and retired without me seeing them.

We were going home the following day - Thursday - as I was meeting Facebook friends for a Discworld get together - at Wollaton Hall on Saturday, 11th July.

Thursday morning came, I was in agony, luckily Mr Grumpy had previously picked a leaflet up for Skegness Urgent Care Centre. I made my mind up, I was going, I was showered and dressed in a flash. I knew I'd have more chance of receiving drugs in time there than wait until we got home to see my own doc ... in the unlikely event I'd even get an appointment.

Yes, classic Shingles, I was given a prescription and instructions to tell me that Morrisons was the nearest drug dispensary ... this proved expensive as we went shopping as we whiled away the half hour I'd got to wait ... clearly this is a cunning ploy as half an hour doesn't really give you anywhere else to go.

We went home later that day as planned, time passed in a painful blur. We didn't go to Wollaton and went back to the tin hut that day - Saturday - instead, I needed to get back where I could relax without Chavsda and Langley Mill winding me up.

Many weeks have passed, I gained 6lbs through idleness - I didn't do much as I couldn't wear a bra so no jogging/running/gasping/limping - the rash cleared up fairly quickly leaving minimal scarring, but the pain lingered and lingered. To me it was a constant ache then burning with lots of stabbing. I frequently thought ...  "am I having a heart attack this time?". There is no feeling in the affected nerve, it's completely numb ... until it feels like being ultra-itchy or painful.

I started noticing something odd, if I was totally preoccupied with something else I felt no pain, once I thought about it ... OUCH!

I'd read up on Post-herpetic neuralgia and fully expected to develop it. Now I know that they say the most likely people to go and develop these complications are lonely hypochondriacs, and that's because they're going to think about nothing else. I'm not discounting them as saddos with imagined pain - don't forget I'm suffering here - but I do think there's truth in this. If I wake up and get on with stuff before I shower - no pain - but if I think "I wonder if my shingles will hurt today?" then instantly ... ouch...

It Doesn't Matter

A week ago we had a major crisis. Mr Grumpy came back from the local bookies and he'd lost a winning bet he'd had at another branch in Mablethorpe the day before.

He went through all his slips on the table, checked his pockets ... "but it doesn't matter" ... he then started going through the kitchen bin, teabags flarted one way, packaging from my parcel received that morning another, and a mountain of dust hoiked on the floor - I'd literally only just emptied the Dyson two minutes before he came in ... "but it doesn't matter".

I went through the bets he'd chucked for the cat to play with ...  "ne'er mind  ... it's a mystery to me ... but it doesn't matter" ... and I'm about to get my rubber gloves on for this state of emergency to go deeper in the bin.

I think for a minute ... "how much is this bet worth?"  ... I ask him

"£1.10 ... but it doesn't matter, if I've lost it, I can write it out again as they've got the original"

ONE chuffin POUND 10 bluddy P ... and he's got the caravan upside down ... and I've had to clean the kitchen again.

A little later - after a nice sunbathing session - he told me he'd had another bin bag out and been through the rubbish one piece at a time. And we we're "still baffled".

In those five minutes - it was coffee time so I was a captive audience - I relived every step he'd taken to Don Noble's bookies, where it should have been safely inside one of that days bets, and it wasn't ... but it doesn't matter ...

Next time I'll ask first and have my purse handy to reimburse him... bless him ... but it doesn't matter...

 .....

A week later and we're at Mablethorpe, off he went to the bookies and went through all the rigmarole of telling the poor buggers who work there the sad story of the missing bet. They checked the time he'd placed it, found it and printed another copy for him to sign to say he'd received his winnings, and it was finally worth £1.05. He'd barely slept a whole week for £1.05! ... but it doesn't matter ...

Blog Photo Theft

I am fuming! Some dodgy arsehole - George Burns/Georgi Tonov - has used my before and after photo on his crappy diet pill reviews website. 

I'll give him an effin PLOBLEM

He doesn't say I've bought diet pills, but the inference is clear. He insults me further by claiming The Age Is Not A Ploblem - Lose Weight Like her ... I am not sharing a link to his site as he didn't do the decent thing and link back to my blog to make it clear how I lost my weight ... it's easy enough to find if you really want to from these photos.

honest and reputable my arse!

He has also got a Facebook page of stolen before and after photos linking back to his crapsite. Furthermore the photo that he stole from me in December has been 'watermarked' right across my belly with his effin fattist address. I have reported him to Facebook for theft of intellectual property ... and nothing.

Pinterest - fine but it still took me to his crapsite.

If it hadn't been pinned on Pinterest - which does have a link to my blog, so is almost okay - I would probably never have known it was being used. Yesterday I left a comment on his fattist site, it is still awaiting moderation. I have now left two comments on his Facebook page ... and still nothing ...

Fishy Tale

Last Wednesday a small -  Interpet Insight 40 - fish tank was purchased for the tin hut. This was so I could bring my White Cloud Mountain minnows and two adopted - mucky - fantail goldfish here for the summer, then I'd no longer worry about them needing cleaning whilst I'm away ... so far so good.

Oddjob had already aided and abetted me in the installation of said fish tank by moving a shelf a couple of inches to accommodate it - bless him - so I got on with setting it all up that afternoon.

After observing the water and plants doing whatever it is they do that evening by shifting from seat to seat, I decided the aquarium needed moving by about 10 inches. Then I was certain it would be better enjoyed by all occupants of the tin hut ... the shelf would also need unscrewing so I could move the cable to the other side.

"No problem", says he.

This rearrangement was done early that very afternoon, whilst Mr Grumpy - knowing I was on a fasting day - munched his way through half the contents of the fridge, whilst describing in great detail what he was having.

First I had to empty some water, then ever-so-gently slide the fish tank along, then I refilled it again.

"Right" says I, "can you just move this shelf so I can sort the cable?"

"No"

"Why not?"

"Yer fish tank's in the way"

"But you watched me empty it, move it and refill it!!"

"Oh, I could see yer faffing about with it, but I was eating me dinner" ...

More Trouble With Langley Mill's Teenagers

I recently received an email from Chris, he'd written to the local newspaper - Ripley &Heanor News - half expecting his letter to be included, but not exactly relying on it. It was about the local yoofs and yoofesses of Langley Mill/Aldercar and the damage they cause.

I imagine that much the same is going on all around the country and most of it is down to bad parenting and - as I've said before - the television perpetuating the belief that the child is ALWAYS right and adults are interfering, thick tw*ats.

In some cases the child is quite correct, it's apparently very easy to pull the wool over enough parents eyes so they believe that Junior is sleeping over at their best buddy's house ... these particular parents probably should have been prevented from having children in the first place as they're clearly too thick to phone Buddy's parents to check that Junior is indeed staying there. Either that or they really don't care where their offspring is - out of sight, out of mind - so we end up with them roaming the streets in screaming, shouting, damage causing feral packs all hours of the day and night.

Asda and McCrap also add to the problem by feeding the little darlings throughout the night. Anyway, nothing is ever going to improve because this lot, with zero respect for anyone or anything are the parents of the future. And no, I'm not talking about ALL teenagers, I know most are tucked up in bed and are perfectly respectable. It'sjust the ones who are a complete pain in the ar*e. Unfortunately they give the rest a bad name. It's now at the stage where you daren't even look at them without expecting a gob full of abuse.

Anyhooo, here's the letter:

I thought I would write my story of how the youth of today seems to have a total lack of respect for people and property. I visit family in Langley mill each week.  My van is parked outside and it seems to attract thieves and vandals. Just last week 3 youths, probably 12 year olds decided to zigzag  fishing line across the pavement, wrapping it around several street posts and even wrapping it around parked vehicles, including my own van. 

I saw them hanging around outside for some time and about half hour later went outside to have a look around and saw the fishing line wrapped around everything.

When I saw the fishing line I reported it to the police who came out straight away. Though apparently the youths didn't actually commit a crime. So the only thing they could do, if caught, was issue them a asbo. So there are no real consequences for their actions even though someone could have been injured.

Considering there are elderly and disabled  people living in the adjacent houses, I am actually outraged by what they did.  Not only are they at risk of not seeing the fishing line, it could have necked some passers by. There are a lot of dog walkers out at night also. Its dark and it wouldn't be easily visible.

Best part of the whole event was they did it right outside 3 CCTV cameras which are infra-red so work perfectly well at night and caught the whole thing on camera. Not only are they stupid with the intent of doing harm to the public where there are no laws to prevent it, they are stupid enough to do it in plain sight of 3 night vision cameras.

I fitted the CCTV cameras about a year ago after my van window was smashed and my sat-nav stolen. My sat nav has a lot of my work addresses in it so I can't really do without it. I work as a carpet cleaner in Uttoxeter and my van carries my £2,500 carpet cleaning machine which took 2 days to remove all the glass out of.  If I had missed some glass it would have irreparably damaged my equipment and my livelihood.  Who would end up footing the bill in such a situation?  I had to pay for my window to be replaced along with pulling out millions of fragments of glass out of everything. I also lost 4 days work in total because of it all.

Not long before that I had my side mirror smashed off my van. I of course reported it, but with no evidence who did it, nothing could be done. So yet another bill I had to pay out because of some youths lack of respect for property.  Not only that, I have to drive back to Uttoxeter Sunday night time and changing lanes without a nearside mirror is vary dangerous on the M1. If I had collided with another vehicle as I couldn't see them at 70MPH , I really think someone would have been killed. Do these youths even realise how dangerous the knock on effect is of their actions?

Not only that, we have the usual drinks bottles chucked into our garden most days. Youths clearly have not been educated on how to use a dustbin.  We get the usual shouting and swearing in the early hours of the morning and sometimes find smashed wheelie bins and sick outside our driveway. If I reported every little thing to the police it would be a full time job.

Obviously they did a poor job with the fishing line. If I was doing it, I would have at least got some stainless steel cable and wrapped it back and forth over the road for several hundred meters. Wrapping it around as many cars as I could. Clearly it is no crime to do that.

I personally think the law seriously needs to be changed in relation to young offenders and what is classed as a crime. In my opinion, the intent to do harm should be more than enough for some jail time regardless of age. Such pranks can easily result in someone being injured or even killed. If I had not investigated the fishing line, how many people would it have caught in the face during the night? I really wonder what if someone had lost a eye or two if anything more would have been done. 

Delightful, isn't it? ...

Goodbye Sky Broadband

I just happened to be doing something extremely important whilst still in my pit yesterday morning - an update for our Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal page - when I heard the shout from Oddjob below ... "I've got 'can't find server' has t'interweb gone off?" ... expected today as we've cancelled it.

I leapt out of bed and shimmied into the front bedroom where the router now resides since the bedroom swap. And there before me was the saddest sight a t'interwebber can ever see ... two green lights - power and wifi - and one amber light - no t'interweb - sob.

"Yeah, we've been cut off, switch the mifi on" I shouted ... I knew I was wasting my breath so followed my voice downstairs to do it. I did the deed, connected the laptop to the correct network - I couldn't quite bring myself to unplug the router yet, so I had to manually get the laptop to swap networks - and tootled off back upstairs.

"Great", says Mr Grumpy a little later when the phone was also dead - not even an amber light on the router now ... "no more phone calls from people I don't want to talk to". Despite being on the 'do not phone us or accept you're going to be verbally abused' -TPS - list, we got an inordinate amount of unsolicited phone calls.

Less than ten minutes later I heard his mobile phone ringing ... no one phones him except me, his mate in the next door but one tin hut or the doctors. 

It turned out to be a cold caller waffling on about tax and insurance in 2010 ... I haven't stopped laughing since ...

Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal Around The World ~ and on Facebook

Anyone who knows me - or has read my profile - will probably guess that I - along with millions of other fans - was left totally devastated at the news of Sir Terry Pratchett's untimely death.

As we started to turn up on the Facebook group page 'Discworld Monthly' we started to feel less alone and shared our grief as well as a few happy stories.

After a while several people - elsewhere - came up with the idea of keeping Sir Terry in the 'overhead' ... Pratchett fans won't need GNU Terry Pratchett explaining, non fans can find plenty of references on t'Interweb.

Anyhoo, someone within the group decided to give away a Discworld collectors item by drawing a name out ... I didn't win, boo hoo. But along the way - and I think someone else mentioned it too - I had the idea that if I won it then I'd keep it a week and send it on to someone else drawn out of the hat.

Then we realised that it wasn't exactly practical, so since then we came up with the idea of sending a book to each other - using proper snail mail - where we could fill it in with a few details ... our names, where it's been, our first Terry Pratchett book, what his books meant to us and anything else we wanted to add. We'd also take photos and upload them to the Facebook page.

There are also suggestions of a travel bug or something like ... this Sea-Turtle-Cachekinz.

If anyone is interested in joining us and keeping Terry Pratchett Going Postal then click here ... Terry Pratchett ~ Going Postal it's never too late to join in ...

My Spiffing New Torture Machine

Whilst I was doing the bedroom flit in my last post I'd ordered a fabby new elliptical cross trainer thingy in an attempt to get my wobbly jiggly bits less wobbly and jiggly.

 

It is now unboxed and assembled and looking very imposing ... this performance was ahem, a bit tense with lots of "are you sure that's on the right way?" and oodles of "so that's a wavy washer, why do I want wavy washers?", "oh I say, a curved washer" and even more "just hold this will you".

Anyhoo, here's the story of my spiffing new torture machine:

I'm not stupid - methinks - whilst choosing one, I'll buy one that plugs in, no use in overdoing it ... well, I go to foot of my sock! Do you know you still have to move your legs by yourself???? I thought I could just stand there and go for a ride, nope, not a bit of it, mutter, mutter :(

I gingerly climbed aboard and twiddled the knob and pressed the button, dunno what they do yet, I don't do instructions until I'm really REALLY desperate ... which was a bit sooner than I expected.

Twenty hard seconds - and 3 calories - later when my pulse was pushing the top end of the 60s BPM, I thought I'd better have a rest ... and while I'm at it, ahem, have a proper look at the computer doodah.

The damn thing got all personal asking questions like ~ age, height, WEIGHT, SEX ... I spent five minutes looking for the 'not this month' button before having a closer look ... and there was a teeny weeny pic of a stick girl in a skirt alternating with a teeny weeny pic of a stick girl not in a skirt. This may or may not be a boy. I chose the one in a skirt so I would get plenty of fresh air around me wotsits when I'm being taken for a ride - oops I mean, when I'm stepping/pedalling/whatever.

Tomorrow I will raid my under-bed drawer which is crammed full of - hardly worn - keep fittery outfits in lots of white and lovely bright colours. I bought them at the beginning of 2013 when I had a three month flirtation with Zumba. Ooooooh, they might be too big. Way-hey I feel a shopping spree coming on.

I wonder how long this relationship will last...

Bedroom Swap

I wrote this last week on Facebook during the marathon 'bedroom swap' and decided to share it here too - as I used to in the olden days before social media got in the way:

Not everything in this pic is still there, I was mid-rearranging.

As it's quite clear that Chavsda and the feral yoofs and yoofesses are still waking me through the night and aren't about to give in - despite the council visiting Asda - I think it's time to give in and switch bedrooms.

So ... let operation *BEDROOM SWAP* commence.

This isn't as easy as you may think because the other - smaller, *underwater* - bedroom currently houses 'BigJobs', my lovely underused - at the mo - computer and all the paraphernalia that goes with it ... big desk, scanner/printer, blah blah blah.

My craft desk and half ton of crap that I've amassed to make cards that I'm no longer making ... but one day.

New view from my bed

Sun bed that no one wants. MY iron and MY ironing board. I love ironing and get all my best ideas standing with iron in hand - even though I've got a steamy thing (oh yeah, and that) - whilst gazing through the window.

More stuff to go to the charity shop ... my chauffeur is taking that out of my way.

Stuffed toys. I need to give most of these away as they're totally unnecessary ... I keep putting them in plastic bags then fetch 'em back out 'coz they can't breathe.

And last but not least, stuff from the tin hut that I can't cram in anywhere else.

It's Wednesday now and I will be missing at least until the weekend. Probably without food, I may have to eat my left leg ... or not, it's another set of triple fast days ahead of me. Got to shift this lard that I've had since I was 13. It's hanging on and on and on. Time for it to give in and let go.

Stuck

I can't believe my husband has just been up to ask me about whether some old trainers need chucking out. I'm here with this! Half in half out the room. And he just went again, never offered me a chuffin hand or owt.

Oh duck! I'm stuck! I'm going to have to phone him.

Escaped! Getting serious now. All jewellery off and I'm down to my smalls in an attempt to keep cool.

Knackered! Rearranged front bedroom until I've got no strength left and I'm still not happy. Off I go back to have another go. If it's not working for me this time then the single bed will have to go ... as Mr Grumpy keeps telling me.

Mostly crafting essentials - completely rearranged 8 times in 3 days.

Why is my effin brain switched off? Common sense tells you that when something heavy - under-bed drawer full of crafting crap - is balanced precariously coz summat else (ironing board) is holding up proceedings - you don't nudge said ironing board with your knee when your bloody feet are under the drawer. I daren't look at my bruises. I'd already amassed a fair few without doing this. Oh well, back I go to put the other drawer in.

Hmmm, it's like this. I didn't stop lifting, moving, dropping, rearranging crap - apart from my very brief whingy updates - until after 6.30pm. I'm ever so slightly peckish having eaten nowt and I'm currently in the bath admiring my bruises ... how do I get out of the bath? In fact how do I reach the shampoo, soap then towel?

To my right, the woody bits are part of the sunken galleon oddjob made

Himself and Miss Tia Pussykins are trying out the new bedroom. I bet one of them would come to my assistance if I shouted.

Hmmm, may as well stop here, I can keep topping up with hot water using my left foot.

Oh, I'm saved, Mr Grumpy is here passing me soap. I daren't tell him I want the shampoo first ...

Weight Gain!!

We all know that I switched to a daily fast last  May - I've still been jigging that about changing hours here and there - but I managed to gain 3lbs at the beginning November ... YIKES!!!

Now there's two things I may have changed or done wrong. One is that we came home from the tin hut, had loads of work to do and I didn't shift off my derrière. The other is the one I've been afraid would happen all along and that is I've cut my calories down to a ridiculous level. It wasn't done in a stupid attempt to get thin, and I'm not deluded when I look in the mirror - well, not too much - I know/think I'm not fat. But just to maintain my weight - with no exercise - meant I had to virtually stop eating.

Well that just ar*ed up the metabolism more - and don't let's forget I'm at a very tricky age, I'm seriously knocking on the menopause door to be let in/out.

Anyhoo, through November I'd gradually ended up eating less and less to the point where I was only having two decent meals a week and fasting 23 hours for 5 days a week and living on Muesli or ham/prawn/chicken salad ... except for the one or two days we ate out.

So, in an attempt to get my metabolism firing on all cylinders, I went back to 4:3 for a fortnight, where I actually had to eat more than I had been doing. I was - almost - prepared to gain a little more weight but seriously 4lbs more!! Yes, I gained 2lbs each week. I only had breakfast twice in that time and didn't enjoy it as I was no longer used to eating before 1.30pm.

Now what was I supposed to do? Well, I went back to my daily fasts as that's what I now preferred  but I stopped being quite so strict. Instead of 5x23 hour fasts I did 3x23, 2x18 and 2x16 hour fasts every week, and more importantly decided the work could wait and we went for a couple of long walks.

Unbelievably I lost the 7lbs gained in just a few days. I know most of it was probably water I'd got sloshing through my system, but it shows how my body needed to move more just to maintain its optimum weight ... I say optimum, I could still do with losing a few more pounds, but at my age, short of living on fresh air, it's not going to happen.

Having brought up my problems in our ADF maintenance group, another lady of a similar age said that she'd had exactly the same problem. Stopped walking - gained weight. This made me feel loads better ... and I think it's really important to be in contact with a group of people doing the same/similar thing, so we can discuss where we may be going wrong - mainly because we're guinea pigs and we've no one else to turn to - as well as giving each other tips, ideas and motivation WITHOUT HAVING TO PAY!!

Uho, December arrived, along with all that goes with it. Now the first year I followed a fasting lifestyle, I continued to do 4:3 throughout the month, only dropping to 5:2 for Christmas and New Year. Last year I had parents both ill and dropping like flies, so I ate when I could which was usually nothing throughout the day and one meal in the evening. This maintained my weight even though it was the last thing on my mind. This year I decided to let myself go. Hmmmmm, will someone please tell me why?

Over Christmas/New Year I regained those 7lbs so recently lost, and another of their little chubby chums came along for the ride. When the festivities had died down - OK, more accurately, after I'd eaten all the Christmas cake, home made truffles, trifle and other sweet stuff I don't really like but forced down anyway ... I discovered that it's sugar my body hates. All my joints ached, I was bunged up with man-flu every morning, I broke out in teenage spots - a nice change from wrinkles - and I was shuffling around like an old woman again ... rather than whizzing around in the best of health like the recycled teenager I'd become.

So, since then I went back to my proper daily fasts - although I didn't actually give them up over the holidays, but I ate far too much crap - I felt loads better but hadn't actually lost any weight, I strongly suspect my metabolism is sniggering at me from behind my left shoulder as I type. It is clearly fed up of me cutting down to the point where it has to make every calorie stretch.

Having still lost hardly any weight after a month - sigh - I've given in and gone back to 4:3, which is guaranteed to work ... as long as I remember to eat properly on the 4 up days. After doing a daily fast where I never eat before 1.30pm - usually later - then finish eating by 8.00pm, this is hard to get my head around ... again.

Anyhoo, one week of 4:3 and - drum roll - I gained 1lb. But as was pointed out yesterday by my lovely, sweet, soon to be ex-grumpy old man when I was swearing at the demon scales ... 'I hadn't shifted off my ar*e all week'. There will be walking done next week, at least as far as the solicitors to see about my divorce ha ha ha ha ha.

I will continue to make note of what I'm doing and where things go wrong so that I can say with authority ... "I wouldn't try that if I were you" ...

Update March:

I eventually lost all my extra pounds - with an odd weird gain towards the end (9lbs in 3 days), which disappeared as quickly as it arrived. I put this down to my muscles being sore when I started using the 'torture machine'. I have gone back to my preferred intermittent fasting and am once again maintaining my less portly figure ...

.....

1. Me and Alternate Day Fasting
2. Me and Alternate Day Fasting ... Three Weeks On
3. Five Weeks of Alternate Day Fasting
4. Eight Weeks of Alternate Day Fasting
5. Ten Weeks of Alternate Day Fasting
6. Alternate Day Fasting Three Months On
7. Alternate Day Fasting in Winter
8. Alternate Day Fasting Over Christmas
9. Me and Zumba
10. Saying Goodbye To My Curves 
11. Eight Months Of Alternate Day Fasting And Me
12. Growing Up 
13. A Year Of Alternate Day Fasting 
14. 60 Pounds Of Blubber - Vanished
15. The Perils of Alternate Day Fasting 
16. Mr Grumpy Is Losing It
17. Mr Grumpy Has Lost It
18. Fasting For Maintenance
19. Tweaking Maintenance
20. Weight Gain 
21. Still Maintaining
22. Four Years Of Intermittent Fasting

  .....

• ADF Facebook Group ... come and join us :)

Langley Mill Post Office Closed - Temporarily

Just a little post to let people of Langley Mill know that the post office is closed until Thursday February 5th for refurbishment.

I espied the scrap of paper - masquerading as a notice - in the window of this sorry establishment on my way to Chavsda where I went to stock up on the few things I can't get from Lidl.

Of course it's not going to affect me in any way because I do all my post officing in Eastwood, where they manage to string whole sentences together without scowling at you.

Gawd knows what they're refurbishing as there was next to nowt in there to refurbish, we'll have to wait and see ...