take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Saturday, November 17, 2007


Astonishingly, people are still coming here. Not many people, admittedly, but people all the same. Of course, some of these are the people looking for a glossary of tennis club terminology, others are looking for pronunciation tips, but most of you come because you want to know how I'm doing. And that brings a little smile to my face. Thank you.

It's been a month since my last pathetic effort of a post, and a fair bit has changed. We have finally moved into our own house and we are loving it, although like any hundred year-old house, I can safely predict that, before long, it will become a money pit.

Which brings me onto the prickly subject of money. I have finally realised just what a financial disaster this year has been for me. Ten weeks off work with only statutory sick pay (I hadn't been at my new job for long enough to qualify for full pay), six and a half months of part time work, a house move, a car which had just about everything go wrong, two holidays, 3% stamp duty (ouch!) and the dramatic return of my social life have all taken their toll on my reserves, such that when I was offered an interesting looking job in the translation world (NOT as a translator, I hasten to add), after the most agonising weekend I have ever spent, I had to turn it down because it didn't pay enough. On that same day, I noticed an advert for a Systems Analyst not far from here, paying almost double the translation company position...

Alors me voilà, just about to jump back into the dull, meaningless (yet relatively lucrative) world of full-time software development. If my recruitment consultant (who has proved to be an idiot at most stages of this process) is to be believed, I have got the job, though I do not yet know on what terms.

So, where does that leave my so-called freelance translation business? Well, where do you think - simmering slowly on the backburner, exuding its tempting aromas from time to time while I cook my main dish on a more moderate heat...

My hair is now a good two inches long and I am stuck with the dilemma of whether to get it cut into a proper, short style or just leave it to grow. Big favours the latter, as he doesn't want anything to delay the return of my long hair, but I am finding it hard to deal with a style which is starting to look a little... well, mullety. Plus, I'm sure the texture has changed - coarser, possibly curly - which makes me wonder if it will ever get back to how it was...

Healthwise, I am doing fine (despite the refusal of any life assurance companies to offer me cover). Tapering off the steroids slowly, better sleeping (I don't have to get up in the middle of the night for a pee any more! Yay!) and the return of my periods are making me feel normal again, though the steroid-and-inactivity-induced weight gain is proving stubborn even faced with over fifty lengths, three times a week. I still find it hard to look at myself in the mirror...

Plus ça change?

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