Friday, June 29, 2007
Right. I'm going swimming this weekend. I've had enough of 'recuperation', and given that I've been walking around as normal for the last half of this week, and my cut is finally dry, I feel now is the time. Never mind the cold and sore throat I've got. Never mind how knackered I feel. I need some endorphins.
I'm looking into some quick and effective swimming tuition as well, possibly at the endless pool with swimfortri.com. And then open water drill sessions in the Serpentine. Nothing like a good triathlon daydream!
The big question, of course, is whether I'm going to be able to start running soon enough to make my London Triathlon dream a possibility. I might try a brief and casual 20-minute run this Sunday to find out. Although the last thing I want to do is open the cut back up or create swelling issues in my leg just as it shows signs of recovery. There is however, a need to combat swelling issues in my belly, given that the first thing I do when frustrated, annoyed, fed up or otherwise negatively inclined, is to scoff. Crisps, chocolate, toast and honey for dinner, cake, sweets (leftover from Jody's party bags), anything will do as long as it's got absolutely no nutritional value. It doesn't help that Roj hasn't been home for dinner for the last month to keep me on the straight and narrow. Much easier to eat a bowl of pasta with olive oil, black pepper and parmesan than to labour industriously over something balanced.
Annoyingly Jody's bike hasn't turned up today, as it should have. I was looking forward to her first foray into proper cycling in the gardens, not that it'll be the weather for it. But City-Link have let me down with an alleged 'failed delivery' (but no card left) and a refusal to answer the phone. Automated customer service sucks. It's taken me over half an hour to get to speak to a customer service representative who "can't help I'm afraid," and "can only put you through to the appropriate depot." Do I believe they don't have internal lines of communication? Nope.
Jody's last ever week at nursery next week. That's not strictly true because I've enrolled her at summer school (along with Miles) for the subsequent 2 weeks, but her official term ends on Friday. I doubt it'll be an emotional moment because Jody, like most kids her age, is just looking to the next thing that comes along, and I will be continuing the regime in September when Miles starts sessions there, but still ... it's certainly the end of an era of sorts. Soon it will be time to go buy her uniform from Harrods (must make sure I leave a whole afternoon for it, in case there's anything else I need!) and start getting nervous about the start of the rest of her life. Little does she know what's just around the corner. Little do I, for that matter.
I'm looking into some quick and effective swimming tuition as well, possibly at the endless pool with swimfortri.com. And then open water drill sessions in the Serpentine. Nothing like a good triathlon daydream!
The big question, of course, is whether I'm going to be able to start running soon enough to make my London Triathlon dream a possibility. I might try a brief and casual 20-minute run this Sunday to find out. Although the last thing I want to do is open the cut back up or create swelling issues in my leg just as it shows signs of recovery. There is however, a need to combat swelling issues in my belly, given that the first thing I do when frustrated, annoyed, fed up or otherwise negatively inclined, is to scoff. Crisps, chocolate, toast and honey for dinner, cake, sweets (leftover from Jody's party bags), anything will do as long as it's got absolutely no nutritional value. It doesn't help that Roj hasn't been home for dinner for the last month to keep me on the straight and narrow. Much easier to eat a bowl of pasta with olive oil, black pepper and parmesan than to labour industriously over something balanced.
Annoyingly Jody's bike hasn't turned up today, as it should have. I was looking forward to her first foray into proper cycling in the gardens, not that it'll be the weather for it. But City-Link have let me down with an alleged 'failed delivery' (but no card left) and a refusal to answer the phone. Automated customer service sucks. It's taken me over half an hour to get to speak to a customer service representative who "can't help I'm afraid," and "can only put you through to the appropriate depot." Do I believe they don't have internal lines of communication? Nope.
Jody's last ever week at nursery next week. That's not strictly true because I've enrolled her at summer school (along with Miles) for the subsequent 2 weeks, but her official term ends on Friday. I doubt it'll be an emotional moment because Jody, like most kids her age, is just looking to the next thing that comes along, and I will be continuing the regime in September when Miles starts sessions there, but still ... it's certainly the end of an era of sorts. Soon it will be time to go buy her uniform from Harrods (must make sure I leave a whole afternoon for it, in case there's anything else I need!) and start getting nervous about the start of the rest of her life. Little does she know what's just around the corner. Little do I, for that matter.
lara : 17:58
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Tuesday, June 26, 2007
I had a great time with Kristen today but I wish it had gone on for longer; I definitely could have kept chatting with her all afternoon. It's a strange thing when you get to know somebody in real life after you've got to know them remotely. On a blog you can be who you want to be, so I wondered if she'd be as I expected. But she was better, because three-dimensional is usually better than two-dimensional and because she was less of an intimidating superwoman than perhaps I thought (she most definitely is a superwoman, but not an intimidating one). Also she broke the ice by saying I look like Keeley Hawes, which (after investigation) is complimentary, if sadly inaccurate! Kristen had a wonderful dry sense of humour and a very tangible sensitivity. I liked her. I hope we'll meet again.
Tomorrow Miles goes for his initiation at Jody's nursery. It's a real milestone. To think that in September Jody will be at big kids' school and Miles will be spending 3 mornings at nursery. And I? I will be revelling in a little bit of freedom from being a mum which I am more and more ready for. I have loved these years devoting all of my time to nurturing my little ones, but somehow it's no longer enough for me. Partly because I know we're not having another one, I want to get on with something else as well. Not at the expense of being a mum, but in order to recognise that there's a person underneath it all who wants to make sure they don't lose sight of everything else that makes her who she is. I'm mostly thinking of becoming a personal trainer, because it's a nice flexible way to earn some money (hopefully) doing something I really believe in, but to start with I might take a term off to catch up on the parts of my life that have been ignored for the past 4 years. And there's a loft full of stuff to eBay, so I might start there!
Tomorrow Miles goes for his initiation at Jody's nursery. It's a real milestone. To think that in September Jody will be at big kids' school and Miles will be spending 3 mornings at nursery. And I? I will be revelling in a little bit of freedom from being a mum which I am more and more ready for. I have loved these years devoting all of my time to nurturing my little ones, but somehow it's no longer enough for me. Partly because I know we're not having another one, I want to get on with something else as well. Not at the expense of being a mum, but in order to recognise that there's a person underneath it all who wants to make sure they don't lose sight of everything else that makes her who she is. I'm mostly thinking of becoming a personal trainer, because it's a nice flexible way to earn some money (hopefully) doing something I really believe in, but to start with I might take a term off to catch up on the parts of my life that have been ignored for the past 4 years. And there's a loft full of stuff to eBay, so I might start there!
lara : 17:58
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Monday, June 25, 2007
A thoroughly exhausting weekend. We had Tanya over for dinner on Friday and I attempted spanakopita which turned out bland and uninteresting. I liked the Greek salad though. And the Prosecco she brought was delicious.
On Saturday I spent most of the middle of the day searching for accessories for the black tie event on Sunday. I don't know why it's so difficult and time-consuming looking for strapless bras; it annoyed me intensely. Maybe what I was really looking for was a shapely pair of boobs, but I didn't find any of those either.
I also searched in vain for some earrings that would match with a necklace I bought long ago. And though Selfridges has a large Speedo section on the first floor, where I purchased new goggles (I won't give up on the Triathlon hope until the last minute), that doesn't include any women's swimwear, so my quest for a swimsuit was also fruitless. Which is fine I suppose, since my toe is still not up to the job.
Saturday afternoon we were invited down to flat 1 for tea with our neighbours which proved interesting and stressful. Interesting because it's always fascinating to peek inside someone else's flat in the same building and see how different they have made it. In this case, it was quite old-fashioned in decor, and served to reassure us that high ceilings do not a more spacious flat make, but it would certainly be lovely in summer to possess 2 buildings' width of balcony overlooking the garden. Not wide enough for table and chairs really, but abundant in plants and flowers and fresh air. It was stressful because after 20 minutes the children ran out of patience and wanted to gallop around the flat wreaking havoc. And the flat was not amenable to that sort of diversion, being abundant in delicate ornaments and dried flower arrangements; and the couple, though gracious, were not experienced with 2 high-energy youngsters. I was quite embarrassed at the behaviour of the kids at the end of it, and was happy to escape as soon as was polite.
The babysitter arrived at 7:15 and we briefed her on the new challenge of Jody and Miles sharing the bunk bed (we promised Jody that she could go on the top bunk when she turned 4), and we left for what was supposed to be a leisurely dinner followed by the theatre, but by dint of a very large thunderstorm which served to book up all the available taxis in, it seemed, the whole city, turned into a rushed burger round the corner from the New London Theatre before the performance.
Blue Man Group was entertaining but perhaps not as innovative or impressive as either of us expected. At some points I was wondering what we'd wasted our money on, but at others I was in stitches with the rest of the audience. In terms of my [limited] experience of unconventional theatrics, Cirque du Soleil beats it hands down. Nevertheless, as a night out, it was relaxing and enjoyable so I shouldn't complain.
On Sunday morning we did some eBay photography of cot and cotbed now that the kids are in the bunk. It's less emotional to get rid of the final vestige of baby furniture, than a pain in the neck. Especially as, on checking current eBay prices for equivalent items, we're looking to lose a fair bit of money on the sales. It's almost not worth the bother, only we don't have a fire on which to burn them.
I had a quick dash to John Lewis to remedy the earring situation and buy presents for an afternoon kiddy party, and then went out for lunch with some neighbours and their 3 boys at Zizzi's, whose pizza went down a treat with the kids, both in watching its creation and in consuming the end result. And then it was time for the party in the garden square which was one of the most well-organised and impressive in my experience, with make-up artist, bubble magician, candy-floss man, bouncy castles, champagne and elaborate party food spread. Wow.
And after that I barely had time for a strong coffee before getting ready for the black tie do at The Dorchester in aid of the Toni and Guy ward at King's College Hospital. The theme of the evening was renowned musicals, and we had renditions of all the most famous West End show hits sung by many famous West End actors and actresses. Highlights were a talented rendition of Over the Rainbow by an 8-year-old, and auctioneer Bobby Davro proving that he can not only have the whole room in stitches with his rather dodgy humour, but also do a passable impression of Elton John. The food and wine was delicious and the guests were entertaining, so the night passed quickly and enjoyably with the only drawback being the mile-long walk back home in the absence of a taxi, causing my foot to swell up like a balloon this morning (and there was me thinking I might be able to start running next week).
Having made it to bed after midnight for 3 nights in a row though, and having kids pottering into our bedroom seeking the parental trampoline somewhere between 6 and 6:30am each morning, I am now thoroughly exhausted and am actually looking forward to the opportunity my swollen foot gives me to take it easy for a couple of days. By the end of which I will no doubt be climbing the walls. I just can't win with me!
On Saturday I spent most of the middle of the day searching for accessories for the black tie event on Sunday. I don't know why it's so difficult and time-consuming looking for strapless bras; it annoyed me intensely. Maybe what I was really looking for was a shapely pair of boobs, but I didn't find any of those either.
I also searched in vain for some earrings that would match with a necklace I bought long ago. And though Selfridges has a large Speedo section on the first floor, where I purchased new goggles (I won't give up on the Triathlon hope until the last minute), that doesn't include any women's swimwear, so my quest for a swimsuit was also fruitless. Which is fine I suppose, since my toe is still not up to the job.
Saturday afternoon we were invited down to flat 1 for tea with our neighbours which proved interesting and stressful. Interesting because it's always fascinating to peek inside someone else's flat in the same building and see how different they have made it. In this case, it was quite old-fashioned in decor, and served to reassure us that high ceilings do not a more spacious flat make, but it would certainly be lovely in summer to possess 2 buildings' width of balcony overlooking the garden. Not wide enough for table and chairs really, but abundant in plants and flowers and fresh air. It was stressful because after 20 minutes the children ran out of patience and wanted to gallop around the flat wreaking havoc. And the flat was not amenable to that sort of diversion, being abundant in delicate ornaments and dried flower arrangements; and the couple, though gracious, were not experienced with 2 high-energy youngsters. I was quite embarrassed at the behaviour of the kids at the end of it, and was happy to escape as soon as was polite.
The babysitter arrived at 7:15 and we briefed her on the new challenge of Jody and Miles sharing the bunk bed (we promised Jody that she could go on the top bunk when she turned 4), and we left for what was supposed to be a leisurely dinner followed by the theatre, but by dint of a very large thunderstorm which served to book up all the available taxis in, it seemed, the whole city, turned into a rushed burger round the corner from the New London Theatre before the performance.
Blue Man Group was entertaining but perhaps not as innovative or impressive as either of us expected. At some points I was wondering what we'd wasted our money on, but at others I was in stitches with the rest of the audience. In terms of my [limited] experience of unconventional theatrics, Cirque du Soleil beats it hands down. Nevertheless, as a night out, it was relaxing and enjoyable so I shouldn't complain.
On Sunday morning we did some eBay photography of cot and cotbed now that the kids are in the bunk. It's less emotional to get rid of the final vestige of baby furniture, than a pain in the neck. Especially as, on checking current eBay prices for equivalent items, we're looking to lose a fair bit of money on the sales. It's almost not worth the bother, only we don't have a fire on which to burn them.
I had a quick dash to John Lewis to remedy the earring situation and buy presents for an afternoon kiddy party, and then went out for lunch with some neighbours and their 3 boys at Zizzi's, whose pizza went down a treat with the kids, both in watching its creation and in consuming the end result. And then it was time for the party in the garden square which was one of the most well-organised and impressive in my experience, with make-up artist, bubble magician, candy-floss man, bouncy castles, champagne and elaborate party food spread. Wow.
And after that I barely had time for a strong coffee before getting ready for the black tie do at The Dorchester in aid of the Toni and Guy ward at King's College Hospital. The theme of the evening was renowned musicals, and we had renditions of all the most famous West End show hits sung by many famous West End actors and actresses. Highlights were a talented rendition of Over the Rainbow by an 8-year-old, and auctioneer Bobby Davro proving that he can not only have the whole room in stitches with his rather dodgy humour, but also do a passable impression of Elton John. The food and wine was delicious and the guests were entertaining, so the night passed quickly and enjoyably with the only drawback being the mile-long walk back home in the absence of a taxi, causing my foot to swell up like a balloon this morning (and there was me thinking I might be able to start running next week).
Having made it to bed after midnight for 3 nights in a row though, and having kids pottering into our bedroom seeking the parental trampoline somewhere between 6 and 6:30am each morning, I am now thoroughly exhausted and am actually looking forward to the opportunity my swollen foot gives me to take it easy for a couple of days. By the end of which I will no doubt be climbing the walls. I just can't win with me!
lara : 12:04
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Friday, June 22, 2007
The cleaner is here again. My friend is right; she's a human bulldozer. I'm intimidated by her speed and efficiency. And impressed too, I think. Hopefully her ironing style is a little less abrupt, but we'll see.
I've been swimming in a sea of self pity this week. The leg has been getting me down because (silly me) I expected it to have healed up by now. The site of the bruise is improving after diligent haematoma-massage in the evenings, but it's still a bit sore and swollen, especially if I overlook the resting during the daytime like I have been doing. The cut is giving me a lot of grief because it refuses to heal up, being in the exact place that my little toe bends when I walk. If I don't see improvement after the weekend I'm going to brave the doctor and see what can be done, although I can't imagine them being able to do much other than re-stitch it, and seeing as the surrounding skin is disintegrating nicely, I'm not sure even that is an option. I'd put another pic up in my photo section, but I'd like people to continue visiting!
I've been tired too. When Roj doesn't come home in the evenings I languish in front of the telly and can't motivate myself to do the hour-or-so of clean-up that the day inevitably brings. So I end up watching the news and then embarking on the housework and making it to bed just before midnight. Which is not ideal considering the pitter patter of little feet is usually heard at 6. I must revise my schedule, but while I'm not managing to exercise, it seems pointless to bulk up on sleep.
I'm shelving the idea to swim though, this weekend. I don't think I should expose the swimming pool to my toe or vice versa. I'll decide whether to brave the weights room on Sunday morning, but there's so much else to do that I may depressingly procrastinate once again. It doesn't help to have been in conversation this week with more than one person who's keeping up a healthy schedule of training. My brother, for instance, has recently completed 5 hard-core 100-plus-mile bike challenge rides in 5 weekends, one of which he won and all of which he gained elite times for. I am writhing in green jealous envy. And Dave is keeping up an admirable schedule of open water swimming, running and training for his triathlons this year. Is that not what I'm supposed to be doing?
I get very obsessed about this stuff. Had you noticed?
Things aren't all bad though. I'm looking forward to seeing a few good friends next week, some of whom I haven't been in touch with for ages. I sent a birthday email to one of them the other day, and when she rang back she informed me she had another baby 6 weeks ago ... and I didn't even know she was pregnant! We've got a busy weekend lined up, of social stuff, kids parties and a charity black-tie dinner thing that we're allegedly co-hosting a table at. Roj assures me that the guests are all young and dynamic and entertaining but I can think of better things to be doing (involving DVDs and a bottle of red wine) on a Sunday night. We're also going to see Blue Man Group on Saturday night, after years of Roj insisting that we do. I don't know what to think about it really, but I suppose it's better than staying in with a DVD and a bottle of red wine ..............
I've been swimming in a sea of self pity this week. The leg has been getting me down because (silly me) I expected it to have healed up by now. The site of the bruise is improving after diligent haematoma-massage in the evenings, but it's still a bit sore and swollen, especially if I overlook the resting during the daytime like I have been doing. The cut is giving me a lot of grief because it refuses to heal up, being in the exact place that my little toe bends when I walk. If I don't see improvement after the weekend I'm going to brave the doctor and see what can be done, although I can't imagine them being able to do much other than re-stitch it, and seeing as the surrounding skin is disintegrating nicely, I'm not sure even that is an option. I'd put another pic up in my photo section, but I'd like people to continue visiting!
I've been tired too. When Roj doesn't come home in the evenings I languish in front of the telly and can't motivate myself to do the hour-or-so of clean-up that the day inevitably brings. So I end up watching the news and then embarking on the housework and making it to bed just before midnight. Which is not ideal considering the pitter patter of little feet is usually heard at 6. I must revise my schedule, but while I'm not managing to exercise, it seems pointless to bulk up on sleep.
I'm shelving the idea to swim though, this weekend. I don't think I should expose the swimming pool to my toe or vice versa. I'll decide whether to brave the weights room on Sunday morning, but there's so much else to do that I may depressingly procrastinate once again. It doesn't help to have been in conversation this week with more than one person who's keeping up a healthy schedule of training. My brother, for instance, has recently completed 5 hard-core 100-plus-mile bike challenge rides in 5 weekends, one of which he won and all of which he gained elite times for. I am writhing in green jealous envy. And Dave is keeping up an admirable schedule of open water swimming, running and training for his triathlons this year. Is that not what I'm supposed to be doing?
I get very obsessed about this stuff. Had you noticed?
Things aren't all bad though. I'm looking forward to seeing a few good friends next week, some of whom I haven't been in touch with for ages. I sent a birthday email to one of them the other day, and when she rang back she informed me she had another baby 6 weeks ago ... and I didn't even know she was pregnant! We've got a busy weekend lined up, of social stuff, kids parties and a charity black-tie dinner thing that we're allegedly co-hosting a table at. Roj assures me that the guests are all young and dynamic and entertaining but I can think of better things to be doing (involving DVDs and a bottle of red wine) on a Sunday night. We're also going to see Blue Man Group on Saturday night, after years of Roj insisting that we do. I don't know what to think about it really, but I suppose it's better than staying in with a DVD and a bottle of red wine ..............
lara : 13:52
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Monday, June 18, 2007
The party was good. 30 minutes to go and I didn't have anything left to prepare, which is pretty amazing and also testament to the help I received from Nana, Mormor and Roj. It was fairly manic while it happened - amazing how fast 2 hours can disappear, especially when you have expert entertainment in the shape of Silly Millie the clown. The kids were completely transfixed for the duration and she was amazing value. There's no way I could handle an indoors party with so many kids on my own, so the entertainer was a brainwave.
My concern about capacity needn't have existed either; ample space for 25-odd kids and as many parents. And the sitting room floor worked ok as the lunch table too, with much less resulting mess than anyone anticipated.
And my mum's Pimms is now making a reputation for itself. Many a parent who came in expecting a cuppa was enticed into a glass or two of the gorgeous stuff, and many a parent was slightly wobbly as they left. I'm sure it had something to do with Roj falling asleep on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon; he claims it was jetlag after his US business trip but we knew better.
Jody was excited about the party, but took it in her stride and behaved pretty well (barring the odd present-obsessed moment). She got very overtired at the end of the day but that's hardly surprising - so did we!
The balloons remain in the sitting room for a while, to brighten up this rather dull day. Miles is sleeping off the effects of the party (not the Pimms though, honestly), and I am taking a rare opportunity to sit down and catch up with some correspondence. I am now eagerly awaiting delivery of Jody's birthday present though, in the form of the Cnoc 16 from Islabikes. I will coerce my kids into an enjoyment of cycling from a very early age, come hell or high water. And the funky pink streamers that Nana bought to fix to her handlebars should help (the bike being emphatically not pink).
Busy weekend ahead, but I am now hatching plans to get into the swimming pool if I can. I'm definitely not up to running for a little while but I can't stand this sedentary life much longer. Even if I have to resort to upper body weights at the gym, I have to do something.
My concern about capacity needn't have existed either; ample space for 25-odd kids and as many parents. And the sitting room floor worked ok as the lunch table too, with much less resulting mess than anyone anticipated.
And my mum's Pimms is now making a reputation for itself. Many a parent who came in expecting a cuppa was enticed into a glass or two of the gorgeous stuff, and many a parent was slightly wobbly as they left. I'm sure it had something to do with Roj falling asleep on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon; he claims it was jetlag after his US business trip but we knew better.
Jody was excited about the party, but took it in her stride and behaved pretty well (barring the odd present-obsessed moment). She got very overtired at the end of the day but that's hardly surprising - so did we!
The balloons remain in the sitting room for a while, to brighten up this rather dull day. Miles is sleeping off the effects of the party (not the Pimms though, honestly), and I am taking a rare opportunity to sit down and catch up with some correspondence. I am now eagerly awaiting delivery of Jody's birthday present though, in the form of the Cnoc 16 from Islabikes. I will coerce my kids into an enjoyment of cycling from a very early age, come hell or high water. And the funky pink streamers that Nana bought to fix to her handlebars should help (the bike being emphatically not pink).
Busy weekend ahead, but I am now hatching plans to get into the swimming pool if I can. I'm definitely not up to running for a little while but I can't stand this sedentary life much longer. Even if I have to resort to upper body weights at the gym, I have to do something.
lara : 13:50
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Friday, June 15, 2007
For the first time in my life I have a cleaning lady. She's here now, manically swooping through my apartment armed with duster and Mr. Muscle. I'm so conflicted. It's wonderful to follow her around and see the place transformed a bit, into something resembling decent. Heaven knows how she can do something in 2.5 hours that takes me a day. But I hate sharing my Friday afternoon with someone else. I really love my quiet hours alone in the flat, and I'm not going to get them with this whirlwind running around the place. Also I need to get over the anxiety that she's going to use bleach on the carpet and Viakal on the LCD screen. It's her job and she comes highly recommended, so she knows what she's doing (or she ought to), but her reluctance to use the methods to clean that I prefer (for example, e-cloths), sets off alarm bells in my head.
I shall relish the liberation for a while I think, and then reconsider when my leg has fully recovered and I'm more inclined to bend down to find those hard-to-reach places where dust abounds. It's a huge help to have someone do this for me, but I'm not sure I want to stick with it. The control freak in me that likes to do everything herself is fighting with the control freak in me that likes to have everything sparkly clean. And I'm having to surpress the urge in both of them to follow Margaret around with a pair of white gloves and a magnifying glass. Scary business this handing over of responsiblity.
The lift broke last night. I knew it would happen. In fact I haven't yet phoned the elevator company but must do so in order to get the thing working by the weekend. I hardly expect the parents of 25 kids to lumber upstairs with their clobber. Never mind leaving buggies in the hallway for the duration.
It's also rubbish and recycling day today, so I had to hobble downstairs with all the rubbish bags, hobble back up, then hobble back with Jody so that she could go to school with Adam this morning. I'm not sure that the doctor had stair-climbing in mind when he told me to rest my leg, but needs must when the devil drives. I've discovered though, that no-one else in the building will take responsiblity for the lift. You'd think that the person who breaks it would ring the elevator company to notify them so they can send out an engineer, but it always ends up being me.
I managed it to toddler group this morning though, without my crutches. It was my first foray without them and I was satisfied with the result; a little aching but nothing I wouldn't expect by this time of the day. I fully anticipate being able to take Jody to nursery next week (albeit in the car, probably), and make the short little walks around the area that our schedule requires. I'm not up to running after Miles in the playground yet though, so I'll give it another week or so before I attempt that. And I'm sitting on the fence as far as the triathlon goes too, until I start running and feel my limitations. Good though, to see progress in such a short space of time. Just hope there are no plateaux ahead.
I shall relish the liberation for a while I think, and then reconsider when my leg has fully recovered and I'm more inclined to bend down to find those hard-to-reach places where dust abounds. It's a huge help to have someone do this for me, but I'm not sure I want to stick with it. The control freak in me that likes to do everything herself is fighting with the control freak in me that likes to have everything sparkly clean. And I'm having to surpress the urge in both of them to follow Margaret around with a pair of white gloves and a magnifying glass. Scary business this handing over of responsiblity.
The lift broke last night. I knew it would happen. In fact I haven't yet phoned the elevator company but must do so in order to get the thing working by the weekend. I hardly expect the parents of 25 kids to lumber upstairs with their clobber. Never mind leaving buggies in the hallway for the duration.
It's also rubbish and recycling day today, so I had to hobble downstairs with all the rubbish bags, hobble back up, then hobble back with Jody so that she could go to school with Adam this morning. I'm not sure that the doctor had stair-climbing in mind when he told me to rest my leg, but needs must when the devil drives. I've discovered though, that no-one else in the building will take responsiblity for the lift. You'd think that the person who breaks it would ring the elevator company to notify them so they can send out an engineer, but it always ends up being me.
I managed it to toddler group this morning though, without my crutches. It was my first foray without them and I was satisfied with the result; a little aching but nothing I wouldn't expect by this time of the day. I fully anticipate being able to take Jody to nursery next week (albeit in the car, probably), and make the short little walks around the area that our schedule requires. I'm not up to running after Miles in the playground yet though, so I'll give it another week or so before I attempt that. And I'm sitting on the fence as far as the triathlon goes too, until I start running and feel my limitations. Good though, to see progress in such a short space of time. Just hope there are no plateaux ahead.
lara : 14:16
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Tuesday, June 12, 2007
OK. So leg news is good. I saw the specialist again yesterday, who checked out my MRI slides and said that, as he suspected, it was just severe bruising and nothing requiring further treatment. However he thoroughly reprimanded me for not resting it enough, and not following to the letter his prior instructions for recovery. And then he berated me for taking out my own stitches because the cut had opened up a bit and he was worried I might get an infection. His parting words were "I think we need to take this a bit more seriously," and I almost thought he was going to add "otherwise I'll have no choice but to send you to the headmistress." I was smirking through the whole thing (much as I used to do when told off by my teachers in the olden days!), but I don't think he saw the funny side.
Anyway, the nurse steri-stripped my toe and dressed it again (back to baths for me), and the doc ended by saying that I could come back and see him if necessity arose, but he expected that if I was more careful, I should be back to running in a minimum of 6 more weeks (sigh), and swimming probably sooner than that.
And because I'm a good little girl I sat with my leg up from about 7:30 til 10:30 last night, packed it in ice like a couple of pounds of fresh tuna, and for my diligence was rewarded with much less pain and swelling this morning. So I'm quite enthused by the diagnosis and particularly by my sense, for the first time, that things are improving. So much for the bulge of severed muscle then, Dr Sherif ... more like a great big haematoma.
In a stroke of utter madness on Thursday night (at about 3:30am), I also decided to go ahead with Jody's party next Sunday but to make it 'easier' on myself, I decided not to have it in the park, where I would be forced to walk around all afternoon and ship various party paraphernalia from car to park and back again, but in the flat. In the flat. Just picture the scene for a minute will you, of 24 three-to-five year olds causing havoc in a not-very-big flat, between 19 and 37 adults milling around, and 12 additional siblings ranging in age from 6 months to 3 years. Bedlam is what it's going to be. And no amount of childrens' entertainers, careful planning, copious food-making or anything else is going to convince me otherwise.
But I don't want to be precious about this flat, and part of our desire to move somewhere bigger was so that we'd finally have the ability to do some entertaining. Trial by fire though, I think they call this.
Anyway, the nurse steri-stripped my toe and dressed it again (back to baths for me), and the doc ended by saying that I could come back and see him if necessity arose, but he expected that if I was more careful, I should be back to running in a minimum of 6 more weeks (sigh), and swimming probably sooner than that.
And because I'm a good little girl I sat with my leg up from about 7:30 til 10:30 last night, packed it in ice like a couple of pounds of fresh tuna, and for my diligence was rewarded with much less pain and swelling this morning. So I'm quite enthused by the diagnosis and particularly by my sense, for the first time, that things are improving. So much for the bulge of severed muscle then, Dr Sherif ... more like a great big haematoma.
In a stroke of utter madness on Thursday night (at about 3:30am), I also decided to go ahead with Jody's party next Sunday but to make it 'easier' on myself, I decided not to have it in the park, where I would be forced to walk around all afternoon and ship various party paraphernalia from car to park and back again, but in the flat. In the flat. Just picture the scene for a minute will you, of 24 three-to-five year olds causing havoc in a not-very-big flat, between 19 and 37 adults milling around, and 12 additional siblings ranging in age from 6 months to 3 years. Bedlam is what it's going to be. And no amount of childrens' entertainers, careful planning, copious food-making or anything else is going to convince me otherwise.
But I don't want to be precious about this flat, and part of our desire to move somewhere bigger was so that we'd finally have the ability to do some entertaining. Trial by fire though, I think they call this.
lara : 18:30
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Monday, June 11, 2007
Wow. My little girl is 4 today. It seems a lifetime ago when I was sitting at home in New York with a brand new baby I'd just given birth to that morning. I was sore and stunned and didn't know half of what the future held.
And now that defenceless little bundle is an energetic plucky confident little girl, all leggy and lean and excited by what life has in store for her. All cynics should spend a day with Jody. Hard to be bitter and twisted when faced with such determined optimism.
Happy Birthday little sweet pea.
And now that defenceless little bundle is an energetic plucky confident little girl, all leggy and lean and excited by what life has in store for her. All cynics should spend a day with Jody. Hard to be bitter and twisted when faced with such determined optimism.
Happy Birthday little sweet pea.
lara : 22:46
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Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Had my MRI this afternoon but have to wait until Monday to get the final diagnosis, which is a bit of a pain. Specialists shouldn't be allowed to go on holiday ever.
He didn't think I'd severed completely through anything though, when I saw him yesterday. He says I have reasonable strength and mobility in my foot and therefore it's unlikely. He reckons there's probably nerve damage though, and I'm going for a nerve conductivity test to see whether that's permanent or not. I'm allowed to weight-bear as far as is comfortable but my concern is that because a large part of my lower leg is completely numb, I might be doing extra damage without actually being able to feel it. So I'm taking it relatively easy, although I'm happy to hobble forlornly around the flat feeling sorry for myself. By the end of which my foot looks like a purple inflated rubber glove. Nice.
Glad my mum's here. Am happily putting off the thought of organising myself next week when she's not. I have offers to ship Jody to and from nursery but since I can't even push the buggy around, I have no idea how to entertain Miles during the daytimes. I can just about make it down to the garden, but I know we'll both be climbing the walls if we have to spend most of our time in the flat. Eurgh. Maybe I really should look to employ a part-time nanny. And postpone Jody's birthday party. And cancel my entry to the London Triathlon. Sighhhhh.
He didn't think I'd severed completely through anything though, when I saw him yesterday. He says I have reasonable strength and mobility in my foot and therefore it's unlikely. He reckons there's probably nerve damage though, and I'm going for a nerve conductivity test to see whether that's permanent or not. I'm allowed to weight-bear as far as is comfortable but my concern is that because a large part of my lower leg is completely numb, I might be doing extra damage without actually being able to feel it. So I'm taking it relatively easy, although I'm happy to hobble forlornly around the flat feeling sorry for myself. By the end of which my foot looks like a purple inflated rubber glove. Nice.
Glad my mum's here. Am happily putting off the thought of organising myself next week when she's not. I have offers to ship Jody to and from nursery but since I can't even push the buggy around, I have no idea how to entertain Miles during the daytimes. I can just about make it down to the garden, but I know we'll both be climbing the walls if we have to spend most of our time in the flat. Eurgh. Maybe I really should look to employ a part-time nanny. And postpone Jody's birthday party. And cancel my entry to the London Triathlon. Sighhhhh.
lara : 19:14
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Sunday, June 03, 2007
Well we're back, and what a fortnight it's been! I eat all my words about Egypt - it was a fantastic and super-safe venue for a family holiday and I have to say that the staff - both Mark Warner and Hilton Dahab - were some of the most welcoming and efficient I've come across. Jody was in tears last night on the Gatwick Express saying she wanted to go back to the beach. She loved the Kids' Club so much that she sometimes chose to go there instead of play with us in the sea, which is telling. Miles is a little more reserved and for a while in the middle he would cry heartbreakingly every time we left him at the childcare centre, but we attributed this to a poorly tummy which he suffered for a few days, since his enthusiasm for Jenna and his little 2-year-old buddies returned as soon as his appetite did.
The weather was, as you'd expect from 2 weeks in the desert, hot. Lovely hot. Goodness it was nice to get into a bikini and lie on a sunbed for a while, soaking up that sun. I'm not much of a sunbather, but what little chance we had was very relaxing. We also took a big plastic double canoe out a couple of times for a trip round the neighbouring reef, but when we got told to stay within sight of the centre and wear life-jackets at all times, the fun disappeared a bit. We went out on a Dart 16 once in light afternoon winds, but found it a little repetitive going back and forth playing it safe with no trapeze and not really knowing the capsize point.
Anyway, we were mostly too busy windsurfing. About 75% of the time we had winds of force 4 or above, often throughout the whole day. We've never been to a centre where the windiest time is the morning (we've usually had to stick around the beach wondering whether we were in for a blast or not), but this made for excellent planning, since you could get up early knowing it was going to be a windy day having seen the trees swaying outside your window, have a big breakfast for sailing, get out on the water at 9.15am and be happy to come in again 3 hours later to pick the kids up, being we-haven't-been-windsurfing-for-5-years knackered by then. Then you could just monitor the situation over lunch, return to the beach after kids' club drop-off at 2:30 and go back out for another hour or two before the wind disappeared for the day. And if it wasn't windy by 9am we knew there'd be nothing all day and so didn't get our hopes up and didn't have to hang around all day wondering. Excellent.
The windsurf location was fair to good, depending on ability. For me, sailing in a curved bay in the shelter of a sandbar was a perfect environment for practicing those elusive carve-gybes. Dahab has an offshore wind which in most circumstances is a bit hairy, given how hard it is to sail upwind on a short board, but in Dahab you could sail out from beach to sandbar and walk upwind to regain your position. The only downside to this is that during the windy mornings there were a million beginner lesson groups from the other Dahab clubs cluttering up the sandbar (they didn't sail much, they just attempted to beachstart, failed and then moved back to the shallows to contemplate life and discuss how windy it was before trying again. Of course I've been there, but never in a flock, and never so oblivious to the sailing patterns of those around me).
The biggest problem with the location was the inconsistency of the wind. Because the beach area was fairly built-up, albeit with Egyptian-style low buildings, there were quite a lot of holes in the wind so you could go from a blasting force 6 to a force nothing in no time whatsoever. You could see the lull coming on the surface of the water, but if you were hooked in and planing, you just had to bear off and hope your board speed could get through it. You could sail outside the sandbar though, if you wanted to. The wind was much more consistent out there in appropriately named 'Speedy', and the only downside was the lack of sandbar on which to rest. Roj spent a bit of time out there, but the only trip I made out culminated in a bout of screaming expletives followed by a tedious attempt to pick through the sea urchins to the sandbar and over, to reach the relative ease of the enclosed bay.
I think Roj found the area a bit samey and not very testing, but that's just a reflection on our abilities. While I need flat water and an easy location to practice my technique, he, having been sailing for a monstrously long time and perfectly able to complete a fully-planing carve gybe in almost any scenario, wants more of a challenge. But he did concede that as a complete package, Dahab was pretty perfect, which makes for a repeat trip in the near future I think.
That is, if my leg recovers.
True to form I had a stupid accident on the last Thursday out there which resulted in me being wheeled around in a wheelchair for the last 2 days. I'd gone out on a 4.5m sail and the Kombat 96 to take advantage of the amazing winds which had been in for the day. There were few people out on the water and I was just having a ball trying to improve the commitment of my sailing stance. Suddenly though, there was another windsurfer in front of me, and she wasn't a mile away, she was right up close. I still don't know how she got there, because it's pretty difficult for a windsurfer to escape your attention. Roj thinks she must have been steaming upwind and emerged from behind my mast, but why she didn't see me either, if that was the case, I don't know. It certainly took me by surprise to see her there, and despite having thought through the starboard rule (the right of way on the water) several times on the trip, it took me a second to work out that she had right of way and that I should therefore bear away. In that second though, I can only assume that she thought I wasn't going to respond at all, and so she - who should have maintained her course so that I could move around her - bore off at exactly the same time. By this time I could practically see the colour of her eyes, but we then did what would naturally happen to anyone, and both responded immediately by going upwind. It was ridiculous really ... it was like one of those situations where you approach someone in the street and both politely move aside to let each other pass, but move the same way a couple of times and then smile to acknowledge your silly little dance as you pass. Only this time the stakes were higher because we were both hooked in and planing at full pelt in what was probably a force 5 and therefore doing between 15 and 20 knots apiece. And with a yelp from the other girl and a sharp crack as windsurfing kit hit windsurfing kit, we were both in the water and I was trying to get my head far enough under that nothing was going to hit it. It all happened in a few seconds and then we were there looking at each other and asking each other if we were alright. I thought I was fine to start with, but very quickly I knew that I'd hurt my left leg near the ankle. She was unhurt but clearly completely freaked out by the whole thing and when I asked her to get up on her board to hail the rescue launch, she looked even more alarmed and, strangely, vanished like a shot. To the point that I expect she got back to shore and didn't even mention it. Roj and I think she might even have been an instructor at one of the other clubs (she had no club logo on her kit), unwilling to face any kind of issue over how the crash unfurled. Not that she was responsible. We both were, to an extent. But she should have stayed there when she knew I was hurt, to make sure I was OK and not massively haemorrhaging blood into the Red Sea.
So there I was alone, waving like mad for the rescue launch, already in shock because of the drama of the collision and with a leg that I didn't even dare to look at. I watched as the Club Mistral launch went straight past me, but circled back to take me on board and finally I got a look at my injury. Just above the ankle bone on the side of my left leg was a strange channel in the flesh, parallel to my foot, and though the skin was unbroken, it looked like something had taken a big bite out of me (the doctor said later he thought at first I'd been bitten by a shark). Above the channel was a huge swelling the size of my fist. I knew my leg wasn't broken because I just didn't have that sort of pain, but it was clear from the deformity that something was wrong. I was also bleeding from the sole of my foot, but I didn't care about that.
Amazingly the doctor was in the launch that picked me up, off to have a ride in the launch after morning surgery. He prodded at my leg a bit and when I screamed at him, explained who he was. We sped back to shore and I got relay-carried to his clinic by the guys all around, and then the doc started trying to push the big lump back down my leg while prepping the cut on my foot for stitches. And I was succumbing to shock by shaking and sobbing quietly as I tried to explain to the Mark Warner manager what had just happened, even though I wasn't yet clear on that myself, while willing Roj off the water and to my side. And then I was being told to sit in bed for the rest of the trip and go to A and E as soon as I returned to England for an emergency operation to re-attach my muscle which had been severed at the point of impact. So it was my muscle then, that the doc had been trying to massage back into place.
It took me a while to come through it. I'm not very good in situations like that. I get all flaky and squeamish and I was in shock from the collision for the rest of the afternoon. And I still can't get out of my head the implications of being immobile for the near future.
I went to St. Mary's A&E this morning, but the doctor who saw me there was so confused by the look of my leg and what the Egyptian doctor claimed was the problem, she actually got on the phone (within my earshot) to a more alert colleague and said "This Egyptian doctor says A or B muscle has been damaged, but it's a while since I've done anatomy; what does B muscle do again? Shall I just send her home?" Not very confidence-inspiring. They've made me an appointment at their foot and ankle clinic on Thursday but since the Egyptian doctor said that the most important thing was for me to get seen as quickly as possible after our return, I'm shelving the St. Mary's appointment and going for a private appointment tomorrow early morning, where hopefully they will have a clue as to what has gone on. I'm still hoping I won't have to have an operation ... being on crutches for a few weeks is inconvenient enough without the added pain of recovering from surgery. But we'll see.
When we went back to the Egyptian doctor's clinic the day after the accident, Roj asked him what the worst accident had been in that resort, to which he gave a wry smile and produced a little plastic bag from his cupboard. We looked at the brittle white strands in the bag and said "Ah, coral," but he said that no, it wasn't coral. On closer inspection it appeared very clearly to be a diminutive skeletal hand which, it transpires, he had amputated from a 19-year-old Swiss girl some 3 years prior after she had been attacked by a shark in the buoyed-off swimming area 10 metres from the shore. Sharks had come to feed more frequently in the area, he said, after a plane went down at Sharm-el-Sheikh 3.5 years ago. Apparently that was the doc's party trick - some people later said "did he show you the hand?" - but it was quite macabre at the time, and I was secretly pleased I wasn't going back in the water that day.
Anyway. Enough of this melodrama. Suffice it to say that the holiday - barring a stomach bug which kept me in bed for a day, and the fairly dramatic accident at the end - was excellent and I'll definitely be pushing for a return to Dahab. I'm a bit annoyed that carve gybes remain so elusive, despite my approach being nothing if not well-practiced. I guess it took me a little while to get back into the swing of it though, and I'll just be more determined next time. Happily the kids enjoyed most of their time there, and we still took them out of club and spent enough time with them that it didn't seem too self-centred. Every night the nannies set up a system whereby you could take your sleepy (or in our case sleeping) babes up to the childcare centre to be watched over while you went out to eat, and despite the difficulty of carrying heavy youngsters up to the centre after a full-on day of muscle-tiring windsurfing, the arrangement suited us very well. Miles autonomously made some successful visits to the toilet, negating my belief that he'll be 5 before it's worth encouraging him to potty-train, and Jody delighted us with her enthusiasm for the sea. All in all a top holiday, most things considered.
The weather was, as you'd expect from 2 weeks in the desert, hot. Lovely hot. Goodness it was nice to get into a bikini and lie on a sunbed for a while, soaking up that sun. I'm not much of a sunbather, but what little chance we had was very relaxing. We also took a big plastic double canoe out a couple of times for a trip round the neighbouring reef, but when we got told to stay within sight of the centre and wear life-jackets at all times, the fun disappeared a bit. We went out on a Dart 16 once in light afternoon winds, but found it a little repetitive going back and forth playing it safe with no trapeze and not really knowing the capsize point.
Anyway, we were mostly too busy windsurfing. About 75% of the time we had winds of force 4 or above, often throughout the whole day. We've never been to a centre where the windiest time is the morning (we've usually had to stick around the beach wondering whether we were in for a blast or not), but this made for excellent planning, since you could get up early knowing it was going to be a windy day having seen the trees swaying outside your window, have a big breakfast for sailing, get out on the water at 9.15am and be happy to come in again 3 hours later to pick the kids up, being we-haven't-been-windsurfing-for-5-years knackered by then. Then you could just monitor the situation over lunch, return to the beach after kids' club drop-off at 2:30 and go back out for another hour or two before the wind disappeared for the day. And if it wasn't windy by 9am we knew there'd be nothing all day and so didn't get our hopes up and didn't have to hang around all day wondering. Excellent.
The windsurf location was fair to good, depending on ability. For me, sailing in a curved bay in the shelter of a sandbar was a perfect environment for practicing those elusive carve-gybes. Dahab has an offshore wind which in most circumstances is a bit hairy, given how hard it is to sail upwind on a short board, but in Dahab you could sail out from beach to sandbar and walk upwind to regain your position. The only downside to this is that during the windy mornings there were a million beginner lesson groups from the other Dahab clubs cluttering up the sandbar (they didn't sail much, they just attempted to beachstart, failed and then moved back to the shallows to contemplate life and discuss how windy it was before trying again. Of course I've been there, but never in a flock, and never so oblivious to the sailing patterns of those around me).
The biggest problem with the location was the inconsistency of the wind. Because the beach area was fairly built-up, albeit with Egyptian-style low buildings, there were quite a lot of holes in the wind so you could go from a blasting force 6 to a force nothing in no time whatsoever. You could see the lull coming on the surface of the water, but if you were hooked in and planing, you just had to bear off and hope your board speed could get through it. You could sail outside the sandbar though, if you wanted to. The wind was much more consistent out there in appropriately named 'Speedy', and the only downside was the lack of sandbar on which to rest. Roj spent a bit of time out there, but the only trip I made out culminated in a bout of screaming expletives followed by a tedious attempt to pick through the sea urchins to the sandbar and over, to reach the relative ease of the enclosed bay.
I think Roj found the area a bit samey and not very testing, but that's just a reflection on our abilities. While I need flat water and an easy location to practice my technique, he, having been sailing for a monstrously long time and perfectly able to complete a fully-planing carve gybe in almost any scenario, wants more of a challenge. But he did concede that as a complete package, Dahab was pretty perfect, which makes for a repeat trip in the near future I think.
That is, if my leg recovers.
True to form I had a stupid accident on the last Thursday out there which resulted in me being wheeled around in a wheelchair for the last 2 days. I'd gone out on a 4.5m sail and the Kombat 96 to take advantage of the amazing winds which had been in for the day. There were few people out on the water and I was just having a ball trying to improve the commitment of my sailing stance. Suddenly though, there was another windsurfer in front of me, and she wasn't a mile away, she was right up close. I still don't know how she got there, because it's pretty difficult for a windsurfer to escape your attention. Roj thinks she must have been steaming upwind and emerged from behind my mast, but why she didn't see me either, if that was the case, I don't know. It certainly took me by surprise to see her there, and despite having thought through the starboard rule (the right of way on the water) several times on the trip, it took me a second to work out that she had right of way and that I should therefore bear away. In that second though, I can only assume that she thought I wasn't going to respond at all, and so she - who should have maintained her course so that I could move around her - bore off at exactly the same time. By this time I could practically see the colour of her eyes, but we then did what would naturally happen to anyone, and both responded immediately by going upwind. It was ridiculous really ... it was like one of those situations where you approach someone in the street and both politely move aside to let each other pass, but move the same way a couple of times and then smile to acknowledge your silly little dance as you pass. Only this time the stakes were higher because we were both hooked in and planing at full pelt in what was probably a force 5 and therefore doing between 15 and 20 knots apiece. And with a yelp from the other girl and a sharp crack as windsurfing kit hit windsurfing kit, we were both in the water and I was trying to get my head far enough under that nothing was going to hit it. It all happened in a few seconds and then we were there looking at each other and asking each other if we were alright. I thought I was fine to start with, but very quickly I knew that I'd hurt my left leg near the ankle. She was unhurt but clearly completely freaked out by the whole thing and when I asked her to get up on her board to hail the rescue launch, she looked even more alarmed and, strangely, vanished like a shot. To the point that I expect she got back to shore and didn't even mention it. Roj and I think she might even have been an instructor at one of the other clubs (she had no club logo on her kit), unwilling to face any kind of issue over how the crash unfurled. Not that she was responsible. We both were, to an extent. But she should have stayed there when she knew I was hurt, to make sure I was OK and not massively haemorrhaging blood into the Red Sea.
So there I was alone, waving like mad for the rescue launch, already in shock because of the drama of the collision and with a leg that I didn't even dare to look at. I watched as the Club Mistral launch went straight past me, but circled back to take me on board and finally I got a look at my injury. Just above the ankle bone on the side of my left leg was a strange channel in the flesh, parallel to my foot, and though the skin was unbroken, it looked like something had taken a big bite out of me (the doctor said later he thought at first I'd been bitten by a shark). Above the channel was a huge swelling the size of my fist. I knew my leg wasn't broken because I just didn't have that sort of pain, but it was clear from the deformity that something was wrong. I was also bleeding from the sole of my foot, but I didn't care about that.
Amazingly the doctor was in the launch that picked me up, off to have a ride in the launch after morning surgery. He prodded at my leg a bit and when I screamed at him, explained who he was. We sped back to shore and I got relay-carried to his clinic by the guys all around, and then the doc started trying to push the big lump back down my leg while prepping the cut on my foot for stitches. And I was succumbing to shock by shaking and sobbing quietly as I tried to explain to the Mark Warner manager what had just happened, even though I wasn't yet clear on that myself, while willing Roj off the water and to my side. And then I was being told to sit in bed for the rest of the trip and go to A and E as soon as I returned to England for an emergency operation to re-attach my muscle which had been severed at the point of impact. So it was my muscle then, that the doc had been trying to massage back into place.
It took me a while to come through it. I'm not very good in situations like that. I get all flaky and squeamish and I was in shock from the collision for the rest of the afternoon. And I still can't get out of my head the implications of being immobile for the near future.
I went to St. Mary's A&E this morning, but the doctor who saw me there was so confused by the look of my leg and what the Egyptian doctor claimed was the problem, she actually got on the phone (within my earshot) to a more alert colleague and said "This Egyptian doctor says A or B muscle has been damaged, but it's a while since I've done anatomy; what does B muscle do again? Shall I just send her home?" Not very confidence-inspiring. They've made me an appointment at their foot and ankle clinic on Thursday but since the Egyptian doctor said that the most important thing was for me to get seen as quickly as possible after our return, I'm shelving the St. Mary's appointment and going for a private appointment tomorrow early morning, where hopefully they will have a clue as to what has gone on. I'm still hoping I won't have to have an operation ... being on crutches for a few weeks is inconvenient enough without the added pain of recovering from surgery. But we'll see.
When we went back to the Egyptian doctor's clinic the day after the accident, Roj asked him what the worst accident had been in that resort, to which he gave a wry smile and produced a little plastic bag from his cupboard. We looked at the brittle white strands in the bag and said "Ah, coral," but he said that no, it wasn't coral. On closer inspection it appeared very clearly to be a diminutive skeletal hand which, it transpires, he had amputated from a 19-year-old Swiss girl some 3 years prior after she had been attacked by a shark in the buoyed-off swimming area 10 metres from the shore. Sharks had come to feed more frequently in the area, he said, after a plane went down at Sharm-el-Sheikh 3.5 years ago. Apparently that was the doc's party trick - some people later said "did he show you the hand?" - but it was quite macabre at the time, and I was secretly pleased I wasn't going back in the water that day.
Anyway. Enough of this melodrama. Suffice it to say that the holiday - barring a stomach bug which kept me in bed for a day, and the fairly dramatic accident at the end - was excellent and I'll definitely be pushing for a return to Dahab. I'm a bit annoyed that carve gybes remain so elusive, despite my approach being nothing if not well-practiced. I guess it took me a little while to get back into the swing of it though, and I'll just be more determined next time. Happily the kids enjoyed most of their time there, and we still took them out of club and spent enough time with them that it didn't seem too self-centred. Every night the nannies set up a system whereby you could take your sleepy (or in our case sleeping) babes up to the childcare centre to be watched over while you went out to eat, and despite the difficulty of carrying heavy youngsters up to the centre after a full-on day of muscle-tiring windsurfing, the arrangement suited us very well. Miles autonomously made some successful visits to the toilet, negating my belief that he'll be 5 before it's worth encouraging him to potty-train, and Jody delighted us with her enthusiasm for the sea. All in all a top holiday, most things considered.
lara : 19:01
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