So you know what that means… I had to buy a hat!
(I’m THIS happy! …if I could jump that way anyway! Oh well, I can on the internet! )
So I was all geared up and ready to go (being a ‘Hippy’ requires organisation to the highest degree; for example, ensuring you have all the right medication; CHECK. Water to take said medication; CHECK. Food, yep you guessed it, for the medication! CHECK. The list goes on… I imagine it’s like carrying round a ‘nappy bag’ if you have kids, for all your supplies. But mostly, instead, it’s just full of drugs!)
But my attitude towards this, is “sod it, I’m not missing out, I just need to be MORE prepared” (or more CDO as *Himself calls it… It’s like OCD, but in alphabetical order; because that’s how OCD I am!). There used to be a time whereby I would just constantly rest, a prisoner to my DDH (Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip/s), in order to just get myself to work each day. Those days are gone! Yes, it’s harder. God, YES, it bloody hurts… but damn it, I have to LIVE! (…aaaaand…. breathe….!).
I feel (and bet I look!) so crappy on the inside, I like to at least look good on the outside, so I try and make an effort… so why shouldn’t I buy a hat! (It takes me an age to ‘try and make an effort’ by the way, because of being in lots of pain, and then the meds, this makes me slower. After making all that effort and looking relatively ‘normal’ on the outside, people have a tendancy to think there is nothing wrong with you – just because I suffer with a health condition, I’m supposed to look ill…? It’s caused problems for me in the past, especially when pulling up in a disabled car parking spot… but anyway, that’s another angry story!)
So… the HAT!
Then we have the travelling! Sitting for longer than half an hour in the car (you can imagine, I’m such a joy to sit next to on a flight!) causes pain, seizing up and all other wonderfully difficult issues that when I try to stand and walk, I have (picture it!), what could only be described as a John Wayne-esque style walk! So *Himself and I have to allow MUCH more time to get somewhere, so we can stop, I can stretch out my limbs, or ‘damage limitation’ as it should be known.
So we arrive at our B&B, thankfully, Himself carries the case (…and in a stereotypically female fashion, I’ve packed enough to last a week… for 3 days! and that’s on top of the usual ‘Hippy’ hoardings) to our room on the first floor, which is up some (because of course it is…) incredibly steep stairs. All ‘Hippies’ know that moment, where it feels like the WORLD is watching you as you’re taking what feels like a LIFETIME, trying to negotiate the climb of one step at a time. *Himself, seeing my perturbed expression at the thought of the impending climb and being very supportive, has gotten himself into the usual ‘I’ll cushion you if you fall’ stance (I love that man!) that he does when I’m ascending/descending stairs. Then, cue the typically expected questions from the B&B owner of “oooh, are you okay? What have you done?” (My least fun hobby, explaining myself! I went through a phase of making up wild explanations as to why I was walking gingerly, like I’d pooped my knickers… one was I’d been in a motorbike stunt accident. Yeesssss, I know, it’s not a very nice thing to do, to make up such horrible things, but seriously, it gets to the point whereby it starts to get boring! But the Gent in question ACTUALLY believed me though! :O I don’t do it anymore… promise )
So after all that, now to whip my pretty dress on (Ha, that’s hilarious, like I could ‘whip’ anything on! Getting dressed is often a negotiation!) to get to the races. But oh, the beautiful shoes… with the heel Was that really a good idea….?
*Himself = love of my life, live-in Partner and ‘Hippy’ widower