Tag: bad back

Back to bad backs

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

As if I hadn’t let it be known enough already, Day Five is done.  If somehow you are missing the social media bombardment announcing these things then you should follow me up and stuff, so I can be all up in your grill n stuff fo shure.

I have noticed, or more truthfully Louise has noticed, there are lots of spelling and grammatical errors in each day.  This is a symptom of writing it in my hotel room of an evening, in a bit of a rush.  Apologies, and I will try to do better as I hate that sort of sloppiness.  As ever, my desire to write a good trippy is exactly balanced out by the amount of time I cannot find to concentrate on it.

Last week I was away again.  I did three days in Marlow, enjoying the delights of the Prince of Wales.  This is not another royal scandal involving one of them with too much flesh on display, rather the executive level accommodation afforded to one of my lofty status.

I don’t enjoy being away to be honest.  At the moment though needs must, but hopefully after the next few weeks I can keep that to a sensible level.  It is doing nothing for my waistline I can tell you.  Thankfully the Price of Wales is low brow enough not to have the facilities or will to provide a full English breakfast.  No matter how good my intentions are the night before, if I wake up and have even half a chance of such a feast, I can only spit at the croissant as I trample folk to death en route to the bangers.  Again, that isn’t a Royal reference.

A yoghurt and some cereal are my start to the day, but it is at night where my waistline attracts further girth.  I have no issue with sitting by myself whilst eating. After all, I am still eating.  To be honest though, I’d rather just sit in the room, watch a bit of telly and relax, so I have taken to going to Sainsburys and getting some tea from there.  Something noodly with chicken, some salad, olives with feta and perhaps some chorizo, followed by a family bag of pretzels.  Yep, I’m a fat knacker and it must stop.

Next week I just have the one night away, and I am determined to do better.  I had resolved to “do better” this weekend too, but I’d only give myself a 6 out of 10 to be honest.

Louise is still suffering quite badly with her back, and despite some brief episodes of relief (again, no Princes involved) it hasn’t really improved at all.  Indeed yesterday we spent a few hours in A&E as the pain was so bad.  She literally could not sit, stand or lie in any comfort, and as you might guess, that isn’t any fun at all.

All that A&E could do was offer a leaflet on back pain and one dose of Diazepam.  Louise necked the tablet and battered the doctor to death with his bloody leaflet.  Hopefully things will improve over the next few days as she is desperate to get back into her hospital placement.

I had been looking forward to going to the pictures this weekend to finally watch the Batman film.  Yes, Bolton Cineworld are still showing it incredibly.  Mind you, Carrie only finished last week.  I did get to go to the cinema, but only to transport the girls there and back, as they went to watch the House at the End of the Street or whatever it is called.  Emily went with her friend Chloe and Rebecca with her friend that is a boy, Tom.  Their relationship is not yet officially confirmed as anything more than that, but they spend more than enough time together for us to guess that she may be playing it down slightly.

Of course, as Rebecca suspects, Louise and I were beamed down onto the planet just before she was born, and we’ve no experience of this sort of thing.

House at the end of the street
A vest for breasts

As far as I can make out the film seems to be entirely about that girl from the Hunger Games running around in a sweaty vest.  Well, I have no objection to that, and Bruce Willis built a career on it.

The girls thought it average though, and not as scary as they had hoped.  The fact that Emily slept suggests that this is an accurate review, as at the first sign of a scary film she can go weeks without closing her eyes.

Having ironed, cleaned, made the tea and generally been an all round great guy for most of the weekend, I now intend to enjoy my Sunday evening.  I worry for my intentions though as Emily has the remote, and is insisting on X Factor, which I can hear has just started.  Louise is in bed and Rebecca out with her not boyfriend.  I can feel a wrestling match coming on.

If there is visible bruising tomorrow then I shall do my best to conceal it.  I wouldn’t know how to explain them to work anyway.

I shall assume my position in my “Dad’s chair” and see if I can find anything worth watching, that is if I can see the bloody telly over the dog!

What's on telly?
What’s on telly?

Till the next time….

Jetlag, bad backs and talk of the Hulk’s entrance.

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

It’s been an odd week, and a long week.  It does seem like forever since our holiday, and I feel like I’ve done about twelve days at work this week.

The jet lag only seemed to linger over me until Monday I think, and I’m very glad that the girls had an extra day to recover as their body clocks were all over the place over the weekend.  Louise returned to the UK with a very bad back, and without stealing my own thunder for the latter parts of the trip report, she really struggled through the last few days of the trip.

So after seeing both the emergency and proper doctor on her return she’s been on horse tranquilisers in an attempt to kill the pain and stay mobile.

The girls have returned to school, and we’ve been told that Rebecca’s hair is “inappropriate”.  Yes I can see that a few strands of red hair is going to endanger the education of the entire school.  Good to see the teachers are concentrating on what is important.  We thanked them for their interest anyway.

Pink Dr Martens
Is there a doctor in the house?

Rebecca returned from the US in the unusual position of not having found anything substantial to spend her dollars (donated by grandparents) on.  So I spent them instead.  I did promise her that I would refund them in pounds on our return, so, with minimal delay, she claimed the funds this week, and purchased a pair of bright pink Dr Martens.  Out of spite I might just send her to school in them!

Work has been pretty busy too, and I returned to find that we’re undertaking a fairly major restructure, and it turns out they want me to do something different to what I have been for the past few….well, weeks.  Same sort of stuff, just more people to look after, and a bit more stuff on my plate.  I approach these things with the usual sense of gratitude, relief they think I’m worth employing and outright fear that I am going to make a right ricket of it.  We’ll see.

So, in my very brief blog earlier in the week I mentioned some sort of rant.  Thinking about it, rant may be a little strong.  Whilst doing multiple theme parks in Florida, I did come across a common behaviour by those inhabiting theme park establishments, and I thought that if I wrote my displeasure of it here, where a handful of people will read it, this is bound to fix the entire situation for the next time we return.

So, being fairly organised in my approach to these holidays, I’m also not bad at planning our route around a park “on the go” so to speak.  I don’t need a map of the parks anymore, and I have a good idea of what to do, not only next, but like some sort of theme park chess master, what the next couple of things will be.

I think, a good analogy here would be when I was learning to drive.  I used to go out of a weekend with my Dad, and only came close to death once really.  One thing my Dad told me has always stuck with me when it comes to driving, and it was this.

“Don’t just look at the end of your bonnet, lift your head up, and look down the road so you can see what’s coming and plan for it”.

I’ve always remembered this, and I do consider myself half decent at seeing things coming on the road, and being aware of upcoming muppetry from others before it happens.

So how is this relevant?  Well, as we approach an attraction, I already have everything I need.  So if we are using a Fastpass, I have them all out, in an attractive fan shape, ready for inspection.  I also take a good look at the entrance, and make sure I know which entrance is for Fastpass and which is for the unwashed.  I had (in the past when relevant) a decent idea if the girls were tall enough, and if the ride was suitable for them.

This means that we are through the entrance and into the queue or attraction with minimal fuss.

Entrance to the hulk
Beware the Hulk's entrance

What started to really bug me was the high number of folk who walked up to something, with all their party, usually double figures, and then proceeded to stand right in front of the entrance looking at the ride as if it was an alien ship just landed, or fishing out fastpasses, or trying to talk their way into the Fastpass line without any, or asking the CM inane questions like what time the three o’clock parade is, or arguing who was going to go on with Uncle Harold.

All this time, I am trying to navigate my way through this mini minefield, with my Fastpasses in fan, a large backpack attached to me and all the while tutting for England.

This ride entrance paralysis drove me insane.  For goodness sake, lift your head up, think about what will happen five seconds in advance, and don’t arrive at the entrance and then think it odd that the CM wants to see the Fastpasses stuffed at the bottom of your bag under four ponchos and three bottles of coke.

Then, when in the queue, don’t double back seven times to talk to a family member who hasn’t entered, to try to get them to come on, then expect to walk right back to where you were.  I only have so many tuts available to me in my lifetime, and I fear I may wear them out pretty soon.

Had I read this a few weeks ago I would have thought the writer an anal, control freak, who needs to just chill and go with the flow.  But remember this rant the next time you are in a park.  As you come up to a ride, watch out for the loitering nuisances blocking the entrance.  Kick them in the shin and tell them I sent you.

As rants go, that is quite tame I know, and it came nowhere near having a negative impact on the holiday.  Besides if I don’t get to tut and feel superior to someone a couple of times a day I get all grumpy.

So, I’ll crack on with the trip report as time allows, but it may be a while.  Work is about to ramp up to a whole new level of inconvenience, and one night this week I was astounded to find myself actually doing work at home, in the evening, after hours, not in the office, in my own time.  Did I make that clear?

Hopefully Louise’s back will improve too, as that seriously looked like anything but fun.

Till the next time….