Mine has taken a turn for the worse. I arrived back from England with a raging sore throat and a slight sexy huskiness of voice, this morning I introduced the last school programme of the year at the Nature Park sounding like a broken piano, and now I have no sound at all. Completely gone. I also feel rather worse, though I shouldn't really garner any sympathy for this since I have spent the afternoon wandering around small and interesting shops in Steveston with Lori, Jo, Beth and Kimberley. The rather random picture is of a carefully planted thicket of trees outside the Tate Modern on the South Bank.
Also randomly, my blog just published itself in mid-sentence. So many ways to silence me.
One of the things which I find unnecessarily rude and abusive at Christmas, is receiving cards addressed to some fictitious female version of my partner's name. I don't have the same surname as mine, let alone the same Christian name, so why is it that at Christmas, people have some kind of Dickensian lapse? If they do it deliberately to annoy me then they are successful, but why bother to send a card and mention the Season of Goodwill in order to wind someone up? Bizarre, bizarre, bizarre.
It rained last night and a little more of the snow has disappeared. As we walked around town today, we noticed an abundance of cars with crushed wings and bonnets.
Another thing that bugs me a lot is that when people can't get you on your mobile phone, instead of then texting you, they leave a voice message. People just don't seem to text here. On the other hand maybe we text too much in England, it was certainly a classroom curse at Mayhem.
But it's useful. My mobile phone in England was dying and I couldn't bring myself to buy a new one for the short amount of time I am there, but most communication was held together by texts. I had almost forgotten some of the functions on my phone. The day I had the strange French stuff, my sister texted me because she was eating skate with a friend and couldn't remember what it was in French. Don't you hate when that happens? But my point, which I almost lost there, was that predictive text couldn't cope with the French without being reset and I had forgotten my little shortcuts.
Ah well. Now that I've finished being a lady of leisure for the evening, I can curl up on the sofa and do some serious TV watching.
5 comments:
finally, an area of expertise for me, having had larnyx difficulties twice last year.
One, don't whisper and two, don't clear your throat, despite the temptation.
Three, calcium tablets in water are said to help.
please be better by monday.
- Karen
Hot Toddy's cure everything, as does chicken soup.
Nearly all my communicating is done via text or email. I hate answering the phone or even having to talk on it.
I will try Karen, especially as I know how guilty you're feeling about inadvertently organising your housewarming while I was out of the country.
Yer right Sleepy, however, who makes chicken soup for the chicken soup maker? Kev did just make a really good Greek salad though.
hope your voice returns soon. Re: housewarming party. No guilt actually. Others couldn't make it either. And as I mentioned to Sleepy, you've done a zillion things without me. I do have lots of lovely chips left though. The butter tarts are all gone. Feel better and oh yes, gargle. With warm salt water.
- Karen
Schnee... No Guilt? Blow her out mate!
Greek salad may help. Not enough research has being done on the healing power of Feta!
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