The Broken Girl with a Broken Bike!

Two weeks ago I bought a new motorbike, a Suzuki Gladius 650. I part exchanged my 21 year old Honda VFR750 that I'd owned for 5 years. It was a great bike in excellent condition but being older was really far too heavy for me to manoeuver around. I was becoming more and more reluctant to go out on it and felt it was time to admit defeat and get a newer lighter bike so that I could enjoy going out for runs with The Man.

On the Thursday I saw it, I test rode it on the Friday and bought it on the Saturday. I was chuffed to bits with it and received many admiring comments. The weather was uncommonly good for March so The Man and I decided to take a Sunday run down to Banchory. All was going well, I was getting used to the much lighter more bouncy feel to the bike and taking it easy. We stopped at a park for lunch and had a bit of a sunbathe before heading for home.

We were not far from home when disaster stuck. I came round a long sweeping bend going less than 40mph but hit a nasty pothole in the road. The bike, being so much lighter than I was used to, decided to bounce out of it sideways heading me towards the grass verge. Time slowed down as it does in such situations and I had to make a decision. Try and lean into the corner to get the bike round and I would still hit the verge and likely go spinning off down the road, potentially into a car. The bike would be trashed, I may well be too. Or try and make it up the verge and stop. The latter seemed the better option.

The verge was  however a 6 inch bump up and the force of hitting it threw me and the bike into a fence. I hit my head on a post and lay motionless for a few moments trying to work out if I was still alive. A witness said they thought I'd copped it because I didn't move for ages but I was doing a mental checklist of vital organs and wiggling fingers and toes to make sure all was still intact. As I lay there with my upper half at a horrible sideways right angle to my lower half, I was saying out loud "just don't die, don't die!". It makes me laugh now because I came off pretty lightly considering but I was in a lot of pain and didn't know what damage had been done inside. I was thinking of my wee boy and my man and didn't want to be going anywhere just yet. I became aware of people behind me and shuffled myself round. Head was still on shoulders and neck wasn't causing me any problems but my back was really painful and my wrist was hurting although I figured I'd just sprained it. Two men lifted the bike off me at my request and I fumbled around for my phone to call The Man who had been ahead of me and not seen me come off but then I realised that he would come back when he noticed that I was no longer behind him.

My priority at this point was to get my helmet off but it was difficult as I was shaking quite a bit. A woman had called the ambulance and was insisting that I shouldn't take my helmet off or move until they got there. I'm a stubborn patient and took my helmet off and tried to disentangle myself from the wire in the fence. I got myself round into a half sitting position up against the fence but really just wanted to stand up. Personally I think I would have felt better if I had been able to get up and keep moving because instead I seized up in that position and spent the next 6 hours either strapped to a brace board or hospital trolley which was incredibly uncomfortable and seemed to exacerbate the problem. Anyway, by now The Man had come back and I was so pleased to see him. He must have got one hell of a fright coming back to find me like that but I was pretty sure by that stage that I wasn't going to die, so assured him of that.

I had managed, with help, to wrestle my jacket off with much pain to my wrist and had asked the helpful bystanders to take my boots off too. When the ambulance arrived they insisted on putting a neck brace on me even though I had no pain there and had full mobility but I suppose they have to be better safe than sorry. Not long after they got me into the ambulance the police arrived and took a brief statement and took some pictures of the scene. Apparently, even the police said it was a terribly damaged piece of road and that I wasn't the first biker to come off there. Thank goodness I wasn't hareing round the bend.

The ambulance ride seemed to take forever but eventually we arrived at the hospital and everyone made lots of fuss. I had to laugh because they kept telling me to answer questions with a yes or no without nodding or shaking my head and I just couldn't do it. I'd answer them and then say "I'm still doing it, aren't I?". In the end they decided to tape my head to the bed but I soon wriggled out of that!!! At one point they wanted to cut my leather trousers off me but I vehemently insisted that they could take them off without doing that and that as I was perfectly fine they should make the effort to try. They managed, phew!

I had to wait for ages but eventually got X-rayed and by then The Man had been allowed in to keep me company, god how I love him. I was informed that I had a vertabrae out of alignment in my neck but that's not news to me as I have suffered with a bad neck for years and have been regularly taking painkillers and visiting the osteopath to crack me back into place. Remarkably, ever since smacking my head against the fence post, I have had absolutely no problems at all with my neck so maybe it's done me some good. I was also told that I had a fractured wrist that they would have to put in a cast and although they didn't X-ray my ribs, it turns out I have a broken rib too. After much waiting and to-ing and fro-ing of doctors and nurses, and not having been for a pee or eaten/drunk anything for 9 hours they eventually allowed me to go home.

I was in a lot of pain for about a week and a half, getting in and out of bed was a struggle as was getting dressed, well, pretty much everything caused big ouchys. Not to mention the cold I was still getting over which made coughing and sneezing an excrutiating experience! The Man, however, did me proud, he took time off work to look after me and even though I was a terribly grouchy and stubborn patient he made sure I did as little as possible to give me a chance to mend. Not only that, but he instisted on ordering all the bits that needed to be replaced on the bike and polished it up almost good as new so that I didn't have to look at it with a heavy heart. I am extremely grateful to him for everything, what a star he is.

Two weeks on I can dress myself, wash my own hair (one handed) and tackle most light housework tasks unaided. It's unfortunately my right hand wrist that's in cast which makes everything a little more awkward but I'm adapting well to being a lefty. If I overdo it my back and wrist let me know so I stop and rest a while. There's still another week to go before I can try and badger the hospital to take my cast off before my holiday but if they won't do it, I'll get it off somehow. So, with two more weeks of R&R, hopefully I will be able to enjoy my holiday to the full, a good supply of ibuprofen will no doubt aid that along with some free flowing rum cocktails.

Lessons to be learned? Not really. I was going slow, I was unfortunate to hit the pot hole. I should have cut the corner like The Man did and then I'd have missed it. It was just bad luck on a new bike that I wasn't fully used to yet. I'm very fortunate that I didn't do more damage to me or the bike. It won't stop me riding. As soon as I'm able I'll get right back on. Will I be more cautious? I was already a cautious and sensible rider, any more cautious and I'd be static! Yes, it's knocked my confidence a bit but, I'm a fighter and I'm hellish stubborn so I won't let it hold me back. Plus I've just bought myself new Dainese leathers and The Man bought me a replacement Arai helmet for my Birthday so I'm buggered if I'm not going to get out on the road again soon to show them off. Besides, I've already decided to live until I'm 120 so I've got a ways to go yet ;-)

10 Food Beards - Do Not Feed the Animals

So this is what I do in an effort to cheer myself and you guys up!

1. Porridge Beard (That was my breakfast)

2. Squirty Cream Beard

3. Dairylea Cheese Slice Beard (I think I may go out like this one day)

4. Mangetout Beard

5. Bacon Beard (Yuk!)

6. Smoked Mackeral Beard (I look disturbed because I am, it reeks!)

7. Chocolate Birthday Cake Beard

8. Marmite Beard (my personal favourite, very Cavalier!) 

9. Seeded Batch Loaf Beard

10. Iceberg Lettuce Beard (slightly wilted)

And finally the one that didn't quite make the Top 10, Marshmallow and Peanute Butter Beard



I do hope you have been cheered by my array of food beards. Feel free to adopt any of these in your daily life but don't forget to post pics.

Looking out for Alanda!

You may have noticed that I have been quiet of late. The reason for this is I’ve been a little off my game. In an attempt to discover why, I have given myself over to a bit of pondering. These are my musings.

What happens when you’ve been fire-fighting for so long that, once the danger is over, you don’t know how to relax? When there’s no more need to be on red alert, how do you find out who you are without the drama? Strip away the uniform, the protective equipment, the tools of the trade, the wailing sirens and all you’re left with is the adrenalin still coursing through your veins, a few scars and burns to remind you and the residue of toxic smoke in your lungs.

You try to rebuild your life, picking up the pieces, making them stronger, adding a lick of paint but the smoke still clings a while longer and you’re much more cautious about everything. You enter into inner dialogue. Do you really need to leave the house? What if something happens when you’re out? Stay in, monitor the situation, it’s safe in here and if anything happens you’re on hand and ready to fight once again. Make sure you keep every last shred of what’s left behind because somewhere in the wreckage is your soul if only you could find it amongst the charred remains.

I fear I could be suffering from some degree of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Only those closest to me will know the reason for this but I realise that this is the first time I’ve looked at this being a reasonable explanation for my increasing reclusiveness and sometimes erratic behaviour. Now that I can more clearly see the issues I’m dealing with, I feel better equipped to be able to find a solution. After all, that’s what I do. I fix things. I never thought I’d need to fix myself but in true McGyver fashion I will cobble together some miscellaneous bits and bobs and forge a new way of being. The hardest part is over and the best thing about it is that don’t have to do it alone :-)

My art has been a great tool for processing some of my feelings and also reinforcing my strengths. It’s provided me with a platform to heal from and will continue to be an important outlet for me. I hope that it will also give others a deeper insight into their own lives. The Red Dress paintings may seem like simple images on the surface but they have a power all of their own now that’s come from the energy I’ve poured into them and, for the most part, I’ve tried to portray the positive aspects involved in coming out of the dark places I’ve been. I will continue to fight but now it will be for a better life for me and my loved ones and in time I will learn that it’s not necessary or healthy to be on red alert all the time. For now, I will forgive myself and be kinder to this fragile being who is still trying to work out who she is now that the dust has settled. I'm looking out for Alanda.

Enjoy a bit of Hue and Cry if you will http://youtu.be/ONc3OMOb98I

Tune in next time for more frivolity. I’m back, I’m crazy and I’m thinking a photo blog of 10 different food beards. To be continued.....

The Wolf at the Door

After a couple of days now of watching the Syfy channel, drinking tea, eating junk food and moping about in my pyjamas I’ve been asked to write on the merits of such activities to recharge one’s mental batteries.

 To be honest, I don’t really feel that my mental batteries are being charged at all. I feel exhausted from staying up way too late and then not sleeping properly, plus my self esteem has plummeted along with my enthusiasm for work. I will, however, cut myself some slack as this is day 3 of my mope and I know, without doubt, that I will be back on usual form again tomorrow.

3 days is my allotted period for any self pity streak. I will not allow myself to waste any more time than that. This method seems to work well for me as I never overstep my deadline and seem to bounce back better than Tigger on a trampoline, achieving incredible feats, after that time.

I have also been asked if Syfy influences my work. Now, this is a subject I can really get my teeth into. It’s not that TV influences my work per say, but to take a look at my programme preferences is to get an insight into my already existent interests. Once you see that, you can definitely see the influence in my work.

I have always been interested in Mythology, Folklore, Fairytale and the like and the programmes I enjoy most reflect this: Buffy, Angel, Lost Girl, Being Human, The Almighty Johnsons (a bit shit but I’m persevering) and now I’m especially excited about the new series of Grimm which is based on what has to be my favourite selection of fairytales. I watched the first episode last night and was thrilled to see it begin with my all time favourite fable, Little Red Riding Hood.

The depictions of fairytales in my work come from my belief that all of these fables have some basis in reality. I find it strange that we see similar mythology in the history of different cultures all over the world, cultures that could not communicate with each other to pass on these stories in the way that we can today. Perhaps they were crude attempts at identifying a particular kind of energy signature assigned to a person or beast.

We all have individual gifts or talents even if we are not necessarily aware of them. Some people have the gift of the gab, the ability to persuade others to do something ultimately to their detriment like the car salesmen who encourages you to buy that shiny car with the engine that’s about to blow (Sirens), some have the ability to inspire others to great artistry (Muses), or some have a leeching, draining energy that leaves you tired and listless (Vampires). Are these entities separate from humanity? Or are they just human traits that were recognised as special/different in a time where special or different was something to be feared?

Aside from these examples there are the stories themselves. Which insomniac can’t relate to the sleepless night of the Princess and the Pea? Who hasn’t felt trapped in a metaphorical tower at some point in their life, perhaps even of their own making? Who hasn’t met an Ogre? I’ve known a couple in my time! My personal favourite as a child was Beauty and the Beast but I always felt sad when the beast turned into the handsome Prince at the end. In my opinion, he was perfectly fine just the way he was.

Anyway, those are my insane ramblings for the day but I’ll leave you with this;

What particular gift do you have that makes you special? Which mythical creature lurks beneath your human guise?

I know where my talents lie! Do you?

The Scruffley Wuffler!

Scruffley Wuffler lives in a house

With a Witch and a Squirrel, a Boy and a mouse.

There’s 2 cats and a bat, and a monkey too.

Would you like to live in a place like a zoo?

Scruffley Wuffler eats like a bear.

He eats Rustlers and chocolates, all without care.

I once saw him eat a whole gateau in one

But he still only weighs a small part of a tonne.

Scruffley Wuffler has hair on his chest,

It quite often pokes out the top of his vest.

He has hair on his belly and hair on his chin

But the hair on his head is getting quite thin.

Scruffley Wuffler has great big brown eyes,

They’re open and honest, they tells me no lies.

His heart is colossal, he’s kind and he’s caring

But don’t ask for chocolate, he’s no good at sharing!

Scruffley Wuffler likes to drive fast,

You’ll barely see him as he whizzes past.

He’s a little bit naughty but nice all the same,

Life for him now is a bit of a game.

Scruffley Wuffler is an awesome beast,

He always says “scuse me” at the very least

When he lets out a roar from the pit of his belly,

Scruffley Wuffler can be quite smelly!

Scruffley Wuffler’s a handsome old bean,

He’s tall and he’s strong and he’s very lean.

He’s dashing and daring and raring to go,

When Scruffley wants something there’s no telling him no.

Scruffley Wuffler is the best of the best.

When it comes to cuddles, he knocks spots off the rest.

He understands me like no-one else can

And that’s why I love him, my Scruffley man

xxxxx

Bingo or Barf!

Last night I had my first ever adventure in Bingo. I had been stressing about it all day. Those of you who know me well will be unsurprised by this even if you don't quite understand. You will already know that doing something I have no experience of before particularly if it may involve large groups of people and potentially having to shout out fills me with dread and horror.

For those of you who don't know me, I can only try to explain that I am, what I call, an introvert extrovert. I have trouble with simple things that others have no problems with. For example, in the past having to telephone someone I don't know to enquire about something would involve a fair amount of huffing and puffing, some pacing of the room and the necessity to write down on a pad everything I needed to say. If the person on the other end of the phone deviated from my script I was totally thrown and stuttered my way through the rest of the conversation. I'm not quite as bad as that now.

Conversely, despite this cripplingly apparent shyness, I could pitch up at a Jazz workshop on my own and stand in front of a group of total strangers doing some improvisational scatting (do-be-do type NOT doo doo type!!) and sing my version of Fever whilst tapping my foot and hand in totally different rhythms from the music (no mean feat I can tell ya).

Bingo should, after that, be a piece of cake however it triggered my flight or shite mechanism or as it shall now be called, my Bingo or barf mechanism, for most of the day. As the time neared for the event I really started to get nervous, I was very quiet in the car and felt rather sick. We got into the venue and the Man purchased the cards, there were rather more of them than I was expecting, some in books, some loose, different colours and all vomit inducing.

There were already games being played in which the numbers appeared to come at such speed that I couldn't even register them. The Man assured me that our games would be called slightly slower, they weren't. The time approached for us to start, I clutched my 'lucky' red pen until my knuckles turned white and stared at the flashing display screen like a bunny caught in the headlights.

Then it began, they started calling the numbers, my face was a picture of steely determination, my heart racing, my body started to heat up and sweat though my hands were ice cold and shaking. Looking first for one line, then two and then a full house. Everytime I was close to potentially getting the last number required my hands shook even more, I could barely mark the page with my pen. Occasionally I would be unable to find the number called and three more would be called after causing a state of panic as I tried to recall each number and mark them off. There was always a huge sense of relief every time someone else called out and that particular game was over.

You may think that this is an exaggeration but it is in fact an accurate account of the state of stress I was under which had the Man giggling as he watched the jibbering wreck that was his Woman sitting opposite.

Soon it was time for an interval and I could breath a huge sigh of relief and neck a glass of wine to steady my nerves. Now that I knew what to expect the second half was a little easier, my heart was still racing and I had a pout of intense concentration on my face accompanied by a furrowed brow that could rival Gordon Ramsey's (pre botox, of course!) but I made it through. By the end of my ordeal, I was a little disappointed that we hadn't won anything but I figure for my first time it was probably just as well. I had the distinct fear that if I had to shout out the first thing out of my mouth would not be "line", "here" or "house" but instead a loud exclaimation of "FUCK!".

That said, I can't wait to go again :-D

5 Top Tips for Men and Women. Keeping it real!

I was looking online today searching for some interesting topics to write about and stumbled across a site run by a man giving 'helpful tips' to women about how to catch and keep a man! If you were willing to sign up for membership (I wasn't) you could receive a wealth of advice and be told the common mistakes women make that has men running for the hills. I wondered if there was the same advice available to men on how to keep a woman and, surprisingly, there was. I haven't looked further than the front page of these sights although I was curious. Instead I thought I might have a bash at creating my own 'tongue in cheek' top tips for men and women looking to attract a partner for keeps. Some of this may or may not be based on my own experience but I'll try to keep it clean ;-)

For Women: Top 5 Tips to catch and keep your man.

1. Remember to always laugh at his jokes no matter how bad they are e.g. Q. what do you call a Scottish drug dealer? A. Ken Fit-a-mean! Men pride themselves on their sense of humour, if you don't laugh it will be your sense of humour that is considered to be lacking.

2. Never fart in his presence. If you do accidentally let one slip and it's silent you can try to blame the dog/cat/lobster but if it's noisy you will have to get a bit more inventive, blaming a creaky door for the squeaky ones, the seperating of a velcro strip on your racing suit for a medium sized rasper and a small localised earthquake for a right ripper. However, if you do happen to employ the lean sideways and raise cheek method it's game over, you might as well give up and get your coat. That's a total deal breaker.

3. Do wear matching sexy underwear at all times. You never know when your man might want to grab your breasts or bum and make the honk, honk sound. It will lose it's appeal for him if you are wearing an ill-fitting chewing gum grey bra and a pair of big pants that tell him what day of the week it is. He may well need to be reminded that it's Tuesday or Friday but this is too much information for him to take in whilst he's trying to concentrate on his honking.

4. Don't presume to think that you may have any useful experience of motorcycles even if you have owned both the faired and unfaired varieties during your 13 years of riding experience. You may well know that unfaired bikes when ridden at speed will be colder and harder on the arms and shoulders but this information will not be useful to your man unless he is told by a qualified motorcycle mechanic accompanied with the obligatory sucking in of air over the teeth.

5. Remove the words "I told you so" from your vocabulary.

For Men: Top 5 Tips to catch and keep your woman.

1. Remember to laugh at her jokes occasionally e.g. Q. How do you get Pikachu on a bus? A. Pokemon (poke him on, geddit??) Women are generally considered to be far less amusing than men so this may be a stretch for you but it is worth the effort. Practise your guffaws in front of the mirror and if you can manage a tear or two and a clutch of your side, even better.

2. Be sure to fart in front of her at every opportunity. She will find it hilarious and marvel at your repetoir of elaborate accompanying facial expressions and body gestures. If you can vary the intensity at will to provide a variety of  tones that create a veritable harmonic symphony she will be, literally, blown away.

3. Do wear over-sized mis-shapen cotton boxers that flap around at the slightest breeze. Even better if they are so mis-shapen that they are lower on one leg than the other. If you can team these pants with socks that are pulled half-way up your calves and a T-shirt that declares "I'm with stupid" on the front you're on to a winner.

4. Do suggest that your sister take your woman out shopping for clothes and be sure to mention that she did a great job of giving your ex a wardrobe make-over.

5. Add the words "I told you so" to your vocabulary and be sure to use them often.

Here endeth today's lesson ;-)