Something about the Olympics and splash-backs
09.08.12, 6:41 pm

Olympics! Everywhere! I've been a complete pudding for the part fortnight, watching it until I feel square-eyed and slightly sick. I even found myself watching some dressage today (sneakily at work., please don't tell my boss) because we won the individual gold medal. And there were horses! Dancing to music! I have a feeling it's a lot more difficult than it looks. The best part was watching the Brit do her thing to The Great Escape and Land of Hope and Glory and the horsey commentator suddenly bursting out with, 'Oh my goodness, the music!' I guess for horsey people, watching horses do ballet to stirring patriotic music is the ultimate. It'd be like me having Martin Simpson play me a personal gig whilst I ate cheesecake or something.

So yeah, lots and lots of Olympics, except I missed the most epic night (Saturday night, i.e. the night that we won 3 golds in the stadium) because I had to go to a knobbing wedding where I didn't know anyone. Instead of watching Sheffield goddess Jessica Ennis winning, I had to drive over to the outskirts of Hull with the boy to see his friend, Paul, get married. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh � I did essentially come home the next day and watch the whole night on catch-up anyway. Still, the wedding itself was okay, and we soon made friends during the meal, and there was a ceilidh band too. I have finally danced enough ceilidhs to know the moves from memory, which is pretty brilliant. Less brilliant, however, is when we did a final huge Strip the Willow, which involves lots of spinning with different partners, and all the Scottish blokes seemed to see it as a competition to see how hard and fast they could spin the girls. Consequently, my upper arm is mottled with finger bruises from where they gripped me so tightly. I look like I've been assaulted. It's not a good look, and it was really bloody sore as well!

There was also a couple of excruciating chats about marriage, with drunk people asking me and James when we were finally going to get married. I don't know how to handle these types of conversation � I'm definitely not going to be the one to propose, so the ball's entirely in James's court. Trouble is, he's a total Cautious George, so it could be ten years before he even considers thinking about it. Life's a tricky bugger sometimes.

We bid on another house and lost it once again. My enthusiasm for moving house has kind've died a death; I'm getting tired of looking around lovely houses that I subsequently can't have. Work's pretty crappy, but I obviously can't talk about it here. Sometimes I feel a bit like I'm stuck in a rut, that I should be more ambitious, have more drive. I still love science, don't get me wrong; I just still get tired. I've never gotten back to my previous level before I became ill, and although I'm completely accepting of the level that I've dropped to, I don't think I would be able to cope with anything more pressured than what I do at the moment. I dunno, maybe I'm just wittering on about nothing.

We've bought a splash-back for the kitchen to hide the bad tiling job we've done behind the oven. It refuses to stick to the wall, so we've now buggered the tiles even further and have a huge sheet of metal covered in dried No More Nails just sitting on the kitchen floor. Another hideous weekend of DIY beckons. Boo.

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