Thought of the day

Its not how hard you fall off the wagon, its how quick you get back up that counts.

Claridges.

Yesterday I fulfilled one of my many life’s ambitions and that was to have a cocktail in the Claridges Bar.

I have waited many months to be able to do it, but every time Clive and I go to London we always have Cam so have been unable to go. And on the odd occasion we have arranged to go on our own this as never materialised.

So yesterday I was in London anyway for an event which I will blog about in a few days time, so I decided to go. Clive and I have a friend who lives in Kensington so I text him and asked him if he would like to join me for a drink. He jumped at the chance and a date was made.

When we arrived I was astounded by the front lobby. White, black and chrome hit you as soon as you walk in, making you feel as if you are walking into a 1940’s Noir film set and the warmth of the place overwhelms you, instantly putting you at ease and in a great mood.

My friend wanted to have afternoon tea, which would have been a real treat but we were told they were full and had no available tables. We laughed and joked later about it wondering if we had been Brad and Angelina would a table have been found?

Anyway I was quite happy just being there, so we were taken into Claridges bar and our waiter came over immediately and showed us to our table.

I was slightly disappointed with our table it was very much in the corner and I had my back to the room. I would have liked to have been a little more in the room, so I could have appreciated the ambiance of the space more and of course do a little people watching.

The room does have a lovely feel, its very dark in there with a single candle on each table with the dark red leather seats and benches and the dark green material lined walls, which was a great topic for conversation.

Many, many moons ago, someone recommended a Claridges espresso martini to me so that is what I started with and it did not disappoint in any way shape or form. In fact it went down rather a little too well and left me feeling quite squiffy. My friend had a pot of tea, all served in matching white china. The pot was huge and would have easily provided two or three people with a cup.

My second drink was the ever so faithful slightly wet Vodka martini with a lemon twist that was really strong but served in a fabulous chilled glass and that went down very well also. Again my friend had another pot of tea.

We were there for around two hours and I had a lovely time. It was all that I imagined it to be and more. We had great service, great conversation and a great time.

Next time, I would like to sample the Fumoir room, a very art deco, interment bar that looked stunning when I stuck my head around the door on the way out.

The bill came back at £47.50 yes a little pricey for two martinis, two pots of tea and a bottle of water oh and the little nibbles that arrived at the table without being asked for, but come on its Claridges after all and I forgive it all its sins.

D Day number two.

Yesterday I officially got back on the diet wagon and I would love to say I feel fantastic but I feel...well.... hungry to be honest.

Three months of eating what I want when I want as not only left me 5lbs heavier but also living without rules and boundaries, and that is now my problem.

When before, if I was hungry I would reach for the snacks, tonight I am sitting here thinking I might go to bed before I do or eat something I will regret in the morning.

I really do need to do something thou. The weight is creeping back on and my beautiful new clothes are getting tighter. I am blowed if I am going to put all that weight back on and of course my fabulous new dress is waiting to be made.

There is a roll of material somewhere with my name on it, and I am determined to have it hang in my wardrobe within the year.

So lets start again, on this long, tough sometimes lonely road, together and see where it takes us.

Thank you to Diet Chef. My weight loss savour.

 

Can people like me have it all?

Something happened today that has stirred up a few feelings and made me quite angry to be honest.


Its quite complicated how I’m feeling in my head so I may ramble on a little but I feel as if I need to get it all out to make it seem clearer and so I’m able to park it and move on.

I am not going to tell you the situation and who it concerns because that would not be fair to them and to be honest that’s not the point of writing this post to "name and shame".

Concerning a company that is high end.....

Did not return my of emails over the last few weeks until I went thou another channel to reach them, then I got a reply within 20 minuties.
A reply which I feel to be offhand, very vague and not answering the points I raised.



If I was a multi millionaire or Lady Far Quar would this person have replied to me instantly? Would they have found the answer to my question that same moment? Would it have needed two emails and a another way to get a reply?

Why ignore me? Do they think I can not afford such luxuries that I am wasting there time? Or maybe that I don’t fit their image, perhaps?

I think it’s maybe the first of the two. which makes me beg to ask the question, Are people like me allowed to have high end items? Or should I put up with my lot and stop looking above my station?

Northern working class views tend to be, you are what you are given. If you are born working class and into a blue collar family, that is what you stay. There is not much social movement and if you do have visions of going to university or to move on the career ladder and do well for yourself then you can be deemed as a dreamer or a snob even. (Because my husband has done alright for himself and went to uni, oh and is from London and talks correct, my Mother thinks he is a snob and that he thinks he is too good for the likes of her and far better then her).


For the first 23 years of my life I have had this drummed into my head, then I met Clive. (Of course he is from a middle class family, both his parents went to public school and Clive and his sister waned for nothing. Living in a lovely big house in Surrey. First cars brought them when they learnt to drive. Deposits given to buy their first house ect. ect). But he showed me you can want nice things and get them if you work hard for them. No place. No object, no experience is out of question if you have the money to pay for it. Of course money doesn’t come easy to all but if you work hard and have a goal insight you can achieve and obtain anything,

Well that’s what I thought but today’s incident as knocked that confidence out of me.

But of course, its me we are talking about… fall over, get up, dust off, start again.

Well it’s been left that I will be in touch when I am ready to move forward...And I will be moving forward, I will get this and become a very, very good client.  And my money will be the same colour as everyone else’s, only mine will have blood, sweat and tears on it.

But the worst thing is, I really expected more from them...thats what really hurts.



This post is of my own views ans is taken from an original piece of writing I have decided not to publish in full.

What's the point.

Looking at the stats of my blog today, I realised how little people read it.

I mean, it never started out to be for other people but mealy to get my own thoughts and problems off my chest. But as time as gone by, I wondered if people would read it and maybe, just maybe it may inspire people to lose weight themselves. To see an ordinary everyday person like me lose lots of weight.

The problem is how do you get blogs and such like into the open masses. The likes of disneyrollergirl and londonlibertygirl, how did they get so popular? And they are fashion blogger's. According to Blogger there are hundreds of fashion blogger's..how did they get in particular, get noticed?

The girl who wrote the blog about Julia Child's recipes in 2002.. how did she get noticed? Doing a different recipe everyday, just posted a blog about it and boom instant success.
I know it was a film and films are watered down dramas of true stories, but it was a true story after all.

Don't get me wrong I don't want to be a award winning blogger. but to have more then 10 followers after a year of blogging would be nice.

After all James Lees-Milne wrote his dairies in the hope they would be published after his death. I am not that optimistic, but I would hope my blogs were read while I was still alive.

mmmmmmmmmm.

My post this week is going to be like my mood at present.. Short.

Three weeks of long weekends, weddings and friends visiting have resulted in a 10lb weight again. ;0/.

Wont be getting my MTM dress anytime soon.

Oh well,  hang on while I just climb back on the wagon.

World Asthma Day.

Today is world asthma day, and here is just one of my stories.

I was diagnosed with asthma when I was 3 years old, but had it really since birth. Early memories are of always having a bottle of pink penicillin in the fridge to try and combat the chest infections I was plagued with.


I had two or three really bad attacks when I was a child, but it’s only really been since I was an adult that the attacks have been severe, needing hospitalisation several times and in two cases life threatening.

One February morning two years ago, I woke up like any other morning. But by 11am I was feeling really tight in the chest. After taking my inhalers I felt better but within an hour I needed to use them again. I decided to go and see the doctor to get some steroids as it was oblivious my little friend (asthma) was going to be a pain and thought steroids was the way forward on this occasion.

It was emergency appointment only so I got in the car and only just made it to the doctors. By the time I got out of the car I was very tight for breath and the inhalers were not working, I sort of just fell out the car, my little boy who was only 24 months at that time was fantastic and was as good as gold.

I waited in the waiting room even thou it was very obvious I could not breath and waited 20 mins for my appointment in the end it my little boy who went to the reception and said mommy needs a doctor.

Long story short, I had a neb there and the doctor decided I had to go to hospital but instead of ringing an ambulance he rang my husband at work and told him to take me to hospital.

By the time I got there I could not walk, talk or do anything. Within half hour of reaching hospital I was on an intensive care ward where I stayed for 5 days.

Afterwards when I was waiting to be discharged from hospital a nurse cam to see me. When she asked how I was, I said oh im ok now just my asthma playing up again it does that from time to time.. she looked at me took me by the hand and said, I dont think you relise just how close you came to not being here today, dont take your asthma for granted because it can kill.

That GP should have rang an ambulance, I honestly don’t know why he didn’t. The hospital was gobsmacked that he didn’t.


And this story is typical of hour your asthma can deteriorate within minutes and hours to critical condition.

DONT ever take it for granted, it does and can kill.

http://www.asthma.org.uk/