Coming to America

If you are still reading from my first blog post – thanks!! If you are a new reader then welcome!

It has been a wee while now since my last blog post… I’m not sure if any of you can relate but when you have a chronic condition you find yourself readjusting all the time. I was in a wee bubble there where work was busy but I was still winding down at the appropriate time and remembering to drink enough water and take my meds and do yoga and all that nice stuff. Then it got a wee bit busier and sure I was starting to forget the water and not do yoga and that is the EXACT TIME you should be doing these things! It’s just a wee reminder to me that I always need to make sure I am making time to keep myself on the wagon! You are no use to anyone anyway if you are bringing out the worst of your condition by neglecting the things that keep it under control. Anyway on to the main bit…(can you tell I’m easily distracted and go off on tangents..)

The Start of the Middle

So the sleepy story continues – thanks to anyone who took the time to read my first post!My old history teacher used to start her lessons with only a whiteboard marker in hand and ask ‘what year were we on?’ someone would chime in ‘1914 miss’ ‘ah yes…this was the year that marked the beginning of the first world war..’ and she would rhyme off everything that happened that year for the lesson (absolute lady and genius, I owe my A-Level to her!) So I suppose in the same fashion…we left off at the secondary school era…

The Beginning

My earliest memory is of Christmas Day, I am awakened by my older sister who informs me that it is 1pm, Santa has been and it’s DEFINITELY time to get up. I think I was about 3 or 4 years old at the time. My other siblings (five of them) have been up since dawn, my brother has claimed the tv (the fecker) and has probably had a good poke at my Santa presents too. I was gonna bracket some more jibes about him at this age but it was too long so here it is: NOTHING was sacred with that boy, no I will never forgive him for eating my Easter eggs circa 1998 because I was sick. I had a special SPICE GIRLS egg, that kinda stuff wasn’t your standard old Cadburys but down his gob it went and when I was better I had no Easter eggs left to eat the little shit.