Implanon

This afternoon I got implanted. I don't mean that, do I? I mean, I had an implant.

After reading Ayemiy's blogpost a while ago (gosh, it must be well over a year??) when she got hers, I've been intrigued. I had a poke at hers, and it really is very strange feeling it under the skin, but it seemed to make complete sense. However, with two-ings and fro-ings between Liverpool and Leamington, I never found the right time to get mine... until today!

Despite the doctor not anaesthetising me properly the first time, and the strange sensation when she actually put it in (pressure, and a kind of tugging at my skin, but no pain), it was quite a nice experience! There was me, a female nurse, a female doctor, and a female student doctor, all just having a nice girly time. Laughs and giggles and lady-talk.

It slightly settled some of my fears about France... At the induction day it was 90% female, which thoroughly scared me because I much prefer working with guys. Girls are usually so bitchy and less fun; you can have banter with guys; a bit of healthy flirting. But I suppose we're not all bad, and I just hope I find some girls I can click with. [And then my first-day-of-school fears rear their ugly head and I start to worry that noone will like me, noone will be like me, and I'll end up lonely... ah!]

It was also interesting trying to explain the implant to my mum... No, it's not because I want to be an absolute whore while I'm in France. It just makes sense.

It's Christmas on Tuesday!

I'm sure I'll be busying about the place this week and I'm not entirely sure how much time I'll have to update. Then after Friday I'll be in France for a week's training and a week's settling in, so who knows when I'll have the time to sit down and write a blog post.

Last night Drew came home to Leamington! I'd love to say he'd come to visit me, but I think it's more likely that it's because it's his Dad's birthday today and he knew that Becca would be in Leam'. He wanted to meet for a drink yesterday afternoon, and I was looking forward to it, but then his train was delayed by an hour (which meant we missed Wilde's happy hour - £3 for champagne, yes please!) and Mum was in town asking if I wanted a lift home... I was easily persuaded because it was damn cold and I didn't fancy walking back. So I didn't meet him, and I think he was slightly mad.

However, tonight, Becca is home! Yeeeeeeeah! She's having to fit me in somewhere between her family time. She, too, isn't visiting purely to see me; she's back to celebrate her sister's engagement. I'm not complaining... it'll be nice just to see her really. So hopefully I might be a wee bit hungover tomorrow. You never know!

On Monday I shall be sorting out money and buying gallons of Norwegian Formula (thank you Ami). I've just spent fortune at Superdrug.com because they were surprisingly cheap for a lot of what I needed, but there are still the odd few things that they didn't have. I've also now got three people's Boots cards which I will be raping for points!
After properly looking into everything money-wise (thank you so much for those comments, they really were very helpful) I've decided to (not really take your advice, sorry, and) open a joint account with mon pere. It means he'll have access to my spendings, but that will result in me spending less and I think it's probably a good thing. Travellers cheques seemed to just result in me losing money through commission and there were warnings against there on every advice website I looked on. A pre-paid credit card looked to be a good idea, but I really can't trust myself. I remember too well last Christmas Eve when I burst into tears after receiving a letter from the bank telling me I was in financial hell. I still owe my Dad nearly £900 from that...

It's Christmas on Tuesday!! Ok... it's not... but it is in my household!
I'm going to be family-less on Christmas Day and my birthday (Boxing Day), and I don't have the packing space to take a lot of presents with me, so Mumma decided we'd have a mini Christmas a month early! We went to one of those cheap cheap shops (The Depot, or Bargain Village, or something stupid like that) and bought as much tack as we could. We have musical hats, party horns, the cheapest crackers we could find, a plastic table cloth, and I'm about to dig out the old faithful family christmas casette tape. Everything we bought is a different clashing colour - there'll be no coordination or taste whatsoever! Dad's even bought a turkey.

On Wednesday it's my last day in work, so I'm making a batch of Nigella's Intense Chocolate Cookies because I made them a few weeks ago and they're, well, intense. Oh, Nigella! I'm going to ruin whatever luxurious/alluring/intense air they might have by decorating them with goodbye sentiments along the lines of "It was nice knowing you", "Have a nice life" and "Auf wiedersehen, pet".

Thursday is going to involve a lot of packing... Hopefully by then my vacuum bags will have been delivered, along with my Superdrug booty, and I'll be able to squeeze everything into one bag. One bloody bag! It's a joke! But it's got to be do-able.

And Friday... Well Friday is when all the fun begins - with a 24hr coach journey.

Answers on a postcard (or comment)

So now the interview is over, the panicking may commence: Bloody hell I'm leaving the country for 5months on Friday!! Shit, THAT'S A WEEK TODAY!

Firstly, packing. I bloody hate packing. I've had to do it so many times throughout the university years that you'd think I'd just get on with it... Well, I hate it. I leave it til the last minute - I once packed the entire contents of my room between 3am and 7am with a bottle of wine in one hand. I had no idea where anything was when it was unpacked back at home, but at least it gone done.

Packing for France is going to be a nightmare. I have to take 5months worth of everything, as well as ski stuff and work stuff. So... Question No.1 - Has anyone used vacuum storage bags before? Do they work?? Will they actually save me much space? Because, I was thinking, salopettes must be full of a lot of air, as must towels and jumpers etc. I've just bought some from Amazon and spent more on postage and packaging than the damn things cost! But I need to make sure they're here ASAP as I have no time left.

I also, apparently, need some good hand cream because, apparently, with the constant two-ing and fro-ing from warm chalet to cold piste my hands are going to wither and crack. Hand cream sounds like a very old lady thing to use and I have no idea... So Question No.2 - Does anyone use hand cream and, if so, what's a good one? I don't want to come home with minging hands.

Then I need to sort out everything money-wise... Basically, if I use my English account over there they'll charge me to withdraw money from a cash machine. So I tried to open an account at Nationwide which would give me free foreign withdrawals but because I'm just a lowly graduate I have a useless credit rating and so they told me where to go. I could open a joint account with my father, but I don't think I want him to have access to my accounts and see how much I'm spending. My second way of getting around it, would be to open a French account, but that involves having a French permanent address and apparently takes forever so I might as well forget it. The third way of doing things is to use Travellers Cheques... but I have no idea about Travellers Cheques! So... Question No.3 - Does anyone understand Travellers Cheques? I understand that I have to buy them before I leave and then I can cash them when I'm out there. So if I take, like, £1000 worth of cheques in small denominations and cash them as and when I need money, that will work, right?

I'm sure there are so many other things I need to sort out and work out. I just know I'm going to forget something really important. Help!

On top of all of that... I have a week's 'boot camp' training that I'm probably going to fail. They're expecting a really high standard of waitressing from me, which I've really never done. I worked in chain pubs for god sake and the nearest I got to waitressing was carrying plates from the kitchen to the table of a chav/student. Maybe I should have been a bit more honest at the interview... I need to get working on my multiple plate carrying skills and learn how to pour a bottle of wine with one hand.

Twitter Twoo

I'm far too busy at the moment to properly write here... Hasn't it been a long time since that happened?!

I can't think about blogging until I know everything's sorted for my departure to France. And I can't worry about leaving for France until I've got Wednesday's interview over and done with.

So I think I'll be Twittering instead. Or maybe I won't. We shall see.

No Grand Goodbye

Steve. It’s been a while since I’ve posted about Steve. Don’t worry... it’s not going to be one of those posts; where I decide I want him back again and know I can’t. We’re well and truly not together anymore, and it’s going ok. I do miss him, some times more than others, but our sporadic txt-exchange keeps me sane and allows me to feel like I’ve not lost him completely.

It’s just, this weekend really brought the realisation home that, well, I’m leaving really soon. It’s like leaving for university again, except I won’t be going home at Christmas, and I won’t be nipping home for friends’ birthdays or if I get homesick. I know I’ll make fantastic friends that will become family substitutes, but I have commitment issues. As in, I commit forever. Once I’ve let you in, there’s no way I’m letting go. So... leaving people is going to be hard. And costly, because I’ll end up calling and txting and writing one hell of a lot!

With regards to Steve; I won’t be saying goodbye how I always thought I would. When I pictured leaving I thought we’d still be together (and probably break up because of it). The last time I saw him, in Doncaster, it was a dead cert that I’d be paying him a visit before I went. To say goodbye. We looked up train times and prices. But after our big blown out of proportion argument over the summer, that idea just went out of the window.

The night of that argument*, Steve made Paul find me to take me back home. We ended up walking around Cockermouth for hours because we got lost. Our conversation was pretty intense. Paul basically told me that he didn’t think Steve and I should be together... I don’t want it to sound like it was him saying that that made me realise - he didn’t persuade me - but it really did make it hit home. When Steve and I broke up in the past, friends would agree that it “was probably for the best” or “if you think it’s the right decision” – always something terribly non-committal. But to have someone tell you outright and confirm what I’d already decided... I don’t know, there were some things he said that made me realise that we really did have to call it a day. There was something in the way he talked about Steve, and the effect I had on him, that made it clear to me that I had to leave him alone. There are only so many times I can fuck with his head.

So we’ll have no grand goodbye. When I said goodbye in Doncaster it was nothing; just a hug and a kiss. It was a “see you soon”, not a “this is the last time I’ll ever see you”. And now I can’t do it; it’s too late. We’re too far removed from each others' lives to justify visiting one another. I doubt I could afford the train anyway.

Photos of him are still on my wall. Do I take them to France with me? I guess I should leave them.

Ugh. I’m so tired and emotional so tears are falling too easily. I just watched Don’t Tell The Bride and blubbed when she put her dress on for fuck’s sake.




*I thought I'd written about that night but apparently not.

Cats and Ski

I've been attempting to write about what I've been up to over the last week. Because last night's short, exhausted post doesn't really do it any justice. I've had a fab time! But I've done so much, so writing about it would take forever, and it'll only really be interesting for me to read. Like, Dear Diary...then I did this...and that... and I hate those kinds of posts.

My induction day yesterday has left me really optimistic about going away. Everyone was lovely... there was slight lack of menfolk but I'm sure there will be enough in the resort who are working for different companies. I much prefer working with guys and really need male company sometimes. But yes, noone seemed to be overtly annoying and most people seemed pretty similar to me.

I decided not to join in with the drinking of free wine afterwards... Instead I opted to head back home to give Caroline the send-off she deserves with the other girls. I'd only slept 4hrs the previous night - and Induction Day was 9am-6pm! - so I was pretty exhausted but slept for an hour on the train and then faked livliness for the rest of the evening. Mind over matter... with a bit of help from tequila.

So now Caroline has flown out to Canada, leaving me slightly lonesome in Leamington. It's been strange living here without everyone else, but now my last homegirl has left me... And I've nearly exhausted my university visits about the country. I'm sure I'll survive. It's probably a good thing because it'll give me time to sort my life out and get packed for when I leave.

The countdown really has begun now. They showed us some awesome videos at Induction and I'm just itching to get out there now...

PS. Hallowe'en was awesome; I visited Genever and we went out in Camden dressed as cats.

Wednesday - Liverpool (Mess and house party with the old OTC crew)
Thursday - Will for drinks, Ciaran for drinks, Griff for a catch up, home to Leam'
Friday - London with Gen (House party and Camden. Dressed as a cat.)
Saturday - France Job Induction Day (9am - 6pm with a hangover) followed by Caroline's goodbye meal and night out (with tequila tequila tequila)


I AM DEAD ON MY FEET. Never have I had to leave a club due to such sheer exhaustion.

Pride Comes Before A Fall

This weekend, a friend txt me, telling me which 3rd years back in Liverpool were being promoted at OTC. One of them was Steve. I knew he would get it, and I'm so proud of him. But then I got thinking; am I allowed to feel proud of him? We're not together anymore and now we barely speak (because he basically told me to leave him alone). So is it OK for someone to feel proud of their ex??

I txt him to say well done, and discovered that he'd not actually been told that he'd got the position yet. Oops. I made him promise to act surprised when someone tells him officially. It made me laugh though; I'm 100miles away and I still manage to find out OTC gossip quicker than current Officer Cadets without even trying!


Wednesdays are usually my favourite day of the week because I get to teach a mini-lesson. But today Suzie has called in sick and so I'm stuck with the 4yr olds all day. This morning has been bareable, but I miss my class! It's rather sad; this is my last week at this school.

On a happier note - I've found out my transport details for France!! I leave London at 6pm on November 28th... EXCITING!

I'm going to Briiiighton to buy a... ?

At the mere mention of spending some quality time with my other half, I have an innate desire to speak french. Or at least speak with a french accent and a few "Errr..."s between words. So...

Ce week-end, je vais à Brighton revoir Becca. De sorte que nous puissions rattraper et avoir un rire bébête! Et, aussi, Ludo est réunion nous là - vraiment excitant. ET, aussi, nous allons voir une concurrence Cheerleading! Oh non, un week-end complètement des filles maigres dans des vêtements très petits avec les dents blanches brillantes... je sais que ce sera amusement!

Home Truths

Whilst in France we stayed with Becca's uncle and aunt; Rémy et Karen. Their house was absolute heaven. An old barn re-built by Rémy on the side of a mountain over-looking vineyards.

La belle vue de leur maison.

Their "indoor" swimming pool...

Karen was lovely. She has two sons around our age and clearly adored having 3 girls knocking about the house with her. She lazed with us on the beach, showed us the local market, and stayed up until the early hours with us, chatting away after dinner.
Rémy was a funny French man, who was only able to speak English in the present tense. At face value, he was grizzly and his French accent had an aggressive edge. I was nervous around him, finding it rather daunting being seated opposite him at the dinner table... but I learnt he was really a softie at heart, with a twinkle in his eye, and a wink every time he threw a challenging French sentence in my direction.

As I said; Karen clearly welcomed our company and our ability to free the house from it's usual testosterone-filled air. Despite her being part of Becca's family, we found ourselves telling her all sorts of home-truths that we would never divulge to our parents... University sports club initiations, dalliances over the past weeks with toned french men, and our penchant for alcohol (including that night when we managed to drink 19 shots of tequila).

As a result, she opened up to us. As a result, it got me thinking.

She told us how, when she was at university, she slipped into the habit of forgetting to eat. It wasn't a conscious thing, but it lead to her being unable to get out of bed which, in turn, lead to anorexia. And with anorexia came the attention from friends and parents, who were suddenly concerned with her well-being after she'd felt that they didn't care for most of her life.

I'm not saying that I'm anywhere near anorexia (nor am I saying that I'm over-weight), but it did make me think about my own eating habits. And not only my own, but those of my friends. I hope Becca took what her aunt was saying as seriously as I did (if not more than).

This year I've lost weight, and loved it. I went through a phase in my first 2yrs of university where I had most definitely put on weight and it didn't suit me. After Steve and I got together it started dropping off me... Because I did more exercise? Less drinking? Less eating? More stressing? I don't know why. But what I do know is, I now have to be a bit smarter about my eating and make sure I remember to eat properly. Because looking healthy on the outside does not necessarily mean I'm healthy on the inside! And I can be an awful attention seeker sometimes, I just need to make sure I get my thrills somewhere else.

Je souhaite que je fusse toujours en France.

I'm back! Look! I wish I wasn't!

We flew into East Midlands airport midday today and had to sprint across the runway in an attempt to get inside before my white summer dress went see-through with hideous British August rain. I felt like my tan had faded there and then.

The sausages squashed between two slices of stale bread that I attempted to eat for lunch just didn't live up to the saucission and fresh baguette comprising yesterday's déjeuner. And I know that I won't feel like eating dinner now that I know it won't be something gloriously knocked up by Rémy.

The English language is suddenly dull and lifeless... I crave a French accent, and a roughly shaven man making me giggle by slurring "What is ze Ingleesh for... a man oo lovvs a man? A gay?" How I miss you Medhi, Ludo et Nico...

I refuse to "wrap up warm" despite the cold weather. I think I'll just turn the heating up and shut the curtains instead. Then I can pretend I've had to come inside to escape the burning sun...

This holiday has been absolutely amazing; absolutely what the doctor ordered.

Au Revoir Mes Petits Fils!

[Actual photo of where we're going, gotta love Google!]

See you in September!