Yesterday: thirty-six lengths.

Of which, twelve non-stop.

Mostly breaststroke (I might remind you that I could barely do a single length of this stroke four weeks ago).

I can't believe how much I've improved.

And that's before I even had my first swimming improvement session with my private tutor.

And you know what? I really enjoy it. It feels good.

It took me a long time to enjoy running, and even then, I was never entirely sure that I was enjoying it. Certainly not all the time. I usually dreaded a run beforehand, encountered highs and lows during and relief and euphoria afterwards. Of course, on balance, I miss it. I miss the fresh air, the unjumblement of the mind, the clearing of the lungs, that satisfying buzz in the muscles.

But I really look forward to my swims. The pleasurable sensation of moving through the water. The tangible feeling of wellbeing afterwards.

One of the many things I've envied in others, one of the many things I thought I just couldn't do, one of the many things that scared me: I'm now doing it.

Not particularly fast, not particularly well, not particularly stylishly.

But I'm doing it.

For once, I'm very, very pleased with myself.

Exhibit A

I receive a voicemail message from an estate agent.

"Hello, this is a message for Ms Anx. I'm calling from the office of [estate agent] in [town several miles away from Southampton]. I know you registered with our Southampton office, but I wondered if you'd consider a property in [town several miles away from Southampton]. It's on a new development called [some stupid new-development type name] and [bla bla bla bla bla]..." by which point, I'd stopped listening.

You see, when we'd registered with [estate agent], we had been careful to provide them with a printed list of our details, financial arrangements and requirements for a house.

Under the list of "must haves", the very first and most prominent item was:

"Within walking distance of [Big's school] - i.e. one and a half mile radius"

Big's school is in Southampton. Hence, our registering with Southampton agents.

Further down the list was:

"Older property"

Oh dear.
(Though at least he didn't describe the property as "all up together...")

Exhibit B

I receive a letter from our Mortgage company.

"Dear Ms Anx and Mr Big

I am writing to you as we have been notified by your insurance company, [stupid insurance company], that they have not received the renewal premium for your buildings insurance.

To update our records we require you to send us a copy of your policy schedule to the above address noting [stupid mortgage company] as a joint policyholder and a minimum sum assured of [some random amount that we've just made up which seems to bear no relation to anything]. Please make sure that your mortgage account number is clearly stated so that we can update our records.

Under the terms of the Mortgage Deed, you must ensure that continous insurance is in place. Please give this matter your urgent attention.

An administration fee of £25.00 is charged to all customers who change their insurance providers. Please arrange to forward this amount to us with your new insurance schedule.

If you have any queries on this matter, please contact us on the number below, quoting your mortgage account number.

Yours sincerely

[printed name in silly font, supposed to be a signature]

[name of probably non-existent person]"

An interesting letter to receive when you consider that the mortgage in question was paid off in full three days before the date of the letter and the insurance policy was only cancelled after confirmation that the mortgage had been paid off and that the insurance company were informed of the reason for the cancellation (i.e. we neither own nor live in the property any more).

A double whammy of incompetence, both from the mortgage company itself and the insurance company for "telling on us".

Needless to say, I shan't be paying their £25.00 administration fee.

Exhibit C

I receive a letter from the company handling our new mortgage application.

"Dear Ms Anx and Mr Big

[bla bla received mortgage application bla bla bla]

We require the following information:

The National Insurance number for Ms Anx
The National Insurance number for Mr Big

[bla bla bla]"

I can actually picture these very pieces of information being written down by our mortgage advisor as we sat in her office filling in the application form. How they failed to get passed on, I have no idea, but I'm guessing the word "incompetence" may come into it.

Before:



After:



What a difference several months and a cytotoxic drug make!

---

nb: my hair is not actually green. The light was a bit funny... honest!

... I bring you an unordered list of utter guff including the excessive use of exclamation marks.

• I am very rich! That got your attention, didn't it? Are you my bestest friend now after years of indifference? I can see you, sidling over... Yes, having finally sold the old house but not yet having finished buying the new one, my bank account is straining under the weight of all that equity. It won't last, of that I can assure you.
  
  
• We have found a new house (alluded to above)! It is Edwardian and is semi-detached which probably means I'm middle-class or middle-aged or middle-something.
  
  
• I seriously considered purchasing a Mock Tudor house! I saw sense in the end, mind.
  
  
• Everyone is trying to destroy my car! When I say "everyone", of course I mean "a few individuals". Not only did "they" break the glass bit of the driver's side mirror, but "they" also knocked the passenger side wing mirror completely off its hinge and "they" left a nasty dent in the driver's side wing. "They" being a selection of individuals in different towns at different times. This is the car that I tried to sell earlier in the year, but no-one would buy apart from email correspondents whose names and usage of the English language were suspect to say the least.
  
  
• According to the lady at the gym, I am borderline obese! I also have an elite level of fitness! All at the same time! Yes, I was confused too...
  
  
• My hair is now about 1cm long all over! I look like a pinhead with an enormous arse! But - and this is quite a good "but" - it's all there; my hair is definitely growing back. Due to the reluctance of a previous hairdresser to hack it all off at my request, I did spend several weeks with a kind of dual hairstyle: very short hair (the new stuff), alongside a comedic chin-length bob of such wispiness that I looked like a Guy (out of "penny for the Guy") where someone got bored of sticking strands of hair on. Now, with the help of a hairdresser with no hacking-related qualms, I just look like a feminist.
  
  
• This morning, at about 6:30am, I swam 455 metres! A couple of lengths of which were swum without a break in between! Some of which were swum entirely using the breaststroke without my getting bored halfway and switching to crawl! This, though it may not seem like it, is progress.
  
  
• I have done more socially in the past month than I had over many, many months in my previous residence! To which, the only possible response is: "Yay!"