So Kim and I came home from our purse finding mission to rapturous applause…from me! It still counts. I am so grateful to Kim for finding what I had hidden…from myself as it turned out.
We came home Thursday, and were greeted by this little cutie.
I have this thing where I like the idea of being collected from the airport by a driver holding up a name card. I’ve no idea why, it just seems so fancy.
Chris is always fulfilling my dreams, I have the shoe collection to prove it.
But I didn’t expect him to stand at the airport with a sign just to make me smile.
It turns out it’s actually really hard work. He was accosted by many and various travellers asking him if he was there to collect them. and some demanding that he was definitely their driver…
…he assured them he absolutely definitely wasn’t (seeing as he isn’t a driver, just a cute husband fulfilling his duties), but they were pretty insistent, one even demanded he call his boss to confirm that he was indeed their driver.
I’m thinking the boss of a construction company doesn’t really want phone calls from members of staff’s irate ‘wanna be customers’…just a feeling, I can’t be totally sure.
Anyway, they weren’t happy he wasn’t there to collect them, but I really was. :)
I got home Thursday, unpacked, washed the travel washing.
…Then Chris phoned at 1.30pm Friday and asked if I fancied booking a hotel in London for the night, seeing as we were going up there to meet friends for dinner and a show…no, I haven’t turned over a new leaf, I still despise show shows. But we had been invited to see a stand up comedian, I hadn’t heard of him before but what’s the worst that could happen?
So I quickly packed a bag for the evening and waited for my driver (Chris) to pick me up and whisk me off to London.
Dress from Nicole Farhi, Shoes from Chanel, Bag from Valentino.
What would I probably wear if I didn’t have to take into account of risk of poo leaks? ~ jeans I imagine.
Day in day out, I would have thought.
But as that isn’t the course life took me, I prefer to wear safe clothes. Dresses being the safest of the safe. Yes, there’s still some risk of a leak, but it’s greatly reduced by wearing loose ones.
Thankfully I love a frock…I appreciate it must be a right pain in the bum if you are not the frocky type.
I find it a small price to pay for still being here, I poo in a bag attached to my abdomen. I enjoy the ease and carefree nature of stoma owning (caveat to that - I am very happy-go-lucky with it until someone tries to take away my supplies. I found that out the hard way).
I make cancer survival, and the collateral damage of said cancer look easy. And that is because I find it ridiculously easy. I love life, I love living it. I love adventures and capers. I am very lucky because I am fit and well enough to do anything I choose to.
And if I have to poo in a bag to carry on doing it all, so be it, I’m at peace with the situation.
It’s not like that for everyone, I really wish it was.
I can show the world that dressing well is possible (in my opinion), but I can’t make people feel at ease with their own bags and bodies. I really wish I could.
One way to make people feel normal in a very un-normal situation would be to make stomas less shunned, hidden, generally secretive and negative.
Make it part of the school curriculum, learn about different ways bodies can sometimes go wrong, and the fascinating ways we can fix some of those issues. I actually think stomas are an incredible feat of engineering. Who thought “I know what we can do, let’s cut them open, pull the bowel through the hole, turn it back on itself and stitch it to the abdomen, cover with a bag of some sort, and bobs your uncle, we made a stoma!”
Make ostomy provisions in toilets, make stoma supplies purchasable over the counter, speak about stomas in general.
A friend sent me this photo of a sign in Madrid airport, and it made my heart sing!
Make stomas mainstream, and then, just maybe people won’t be so freaked out by them.
(I appreciate being told you need a stoma is shocking and traumatic. I know I was struck dumb with horror at the idea. But I was incredibly ignorant. I had no knowledge of what life would look like. My expectations and my reality are very very different).
It’s very easy and very simple to achieve greater awareness, if we just make it part of normal life.
Anyway, off we go to London, we booked a hotel literally at the last minute, so the selection available wasn’t great.
We got the location we wanted, but the bed was the smallest I’ve ever seen in my life, lucky we like squishing together. :)
The meal was delicious, the company was great, the comedian (Gary Delaney) was hilarious! We loved it!
Proper cheeks aching from laughter. There is no better feeling than laughing with friends. Note to self, must do more.
And for me, everything circles back to the fact that I can only go and do this stuff because of my stoma…and my friend who bought the tickets of course. ;)
We had no plans, no where to be on Saturday, so we had a lie in in the tiny bed, and then Chris booked us into breakfast at The Brassiere of Light in Selfridges. It’s a cracking place.
Beautiful decor, great food…I mean, that’s all I’m looking for really.
Dress from Monsoon, Shoes from Gucci, Bag from Tracey Emin x Longchamp (from about a hundred years ago. I saw it sitting there in my dressing room and thought she could do with a day out)). (Tracey Emin herself now has stomas due to cancer).
What you looking at?
This f***ing massive Pegasus mainly! :)
I ordered a rather healthy berry smoothie, which lacked a little something something until I added the cream from Chris’s coffee to it.
…which I probably wouldn’t have done if I had known how much we were going to eat that day.
Starting with breakfast at Selfridges. We moved on to lunch at Harrods…
Interspersed with shopping…so a bit like the Very Hungry Caterpillar book, only with more leather goods and no lollipops.
The reason I went there was to buy a strap for my watch, which will take 4 months to arrive, after the date I order it, which won’t be until the 17th July, because Italy is closed until then. Hahahahhahahah. No, I have no idea what that’s all about. Seeing as Italy’s factories have always closed for summer, you’d think they would have worked out a way round it by now.
No matter, I’ve marked the 17th in my diary, to order it then.
And who doesn’t love an excuse to go to London. ;)
After a wonderful day of shopping and eating…we really should get round to adding in a gallery or two, for some culture, there are so many to choose from in London, it’s shameful not to, let me work on it.
Then we headed back to the hotel, collected our case and headed home.
We walked towards Holborn tube station, as we’d parked At Stratford again ~ cheaper, safer, far less window smashing robbing bastards.
On the walk to the station we saw My Old Dutch Pancake shop. (Little known fact about Chris, he spent many summers enjoying the delights of Holland… And his very favourite things from then are Chocomel and poffer jes)
And although we were full to the brim. I suggested we stop for some, as we’re unlikely to be passing again anytime soon, and so we did!
And that ladies and gentlemen is how you live for the now!
Stuff more food in, even when properly full, because you might not get a chance to again. Live with no regrets.
The cause of his delight… these little tiny pancake bites with syrup. If you haven’t tried them, you really should. You don’t need memories of Dutch holidays to enjoy them, I have never been to the Netherlands, and I loved them too. :)
We didn’t have dinner Saturday night. I just wanted to mention that we were finally full. ;)
Top from Kate Spade, Shorts from Tesco. Shoes from Manolo Blahnik.
I wanted to get a few things for the garden, at the local garden centre. My garden is actually looking half way decent at the moment so I want to keep up the momentum.
It was 30 degrees and we did feel a bit lethargic, so Chris suggested we have lunch there.
So we had a carvery Sunday lunch at Wyvales! Hahahahah
Our tastes are nothing if not eclectic. :)
Harrods for lunch Saturday, a roast at the local garden centre Sunday. And this is another of my recommendations for living happily - do what ever makes you feel good.
And if that happens to be a Sunday roast from a garden centre then so be it. There are no rules to happiness. Grab every opportunity you can.
I also bought a lavender plant and some compost so really it was a great day out. :)
Chris had a meeting in Milton Keynes on Monday, so I decided to hitchhike a lift, and while he went to his meeting, I went shopping.
Do I ever tire of shopping I hear you ask ?
What do you think!?! :) hahahah
Anyway, I’m going through a bit of a regeneration, a bit like Dr. Who but with less time travel and Daleks.
I keep asking myself “what do 50 something’s wear?”
It’s not causing me any angst. I’m just questioning whether anything needs to change or not.
I read an article in the Daily Mail (I know, I know, what did I expect), in which the writer felt there were many and various no nos for the over 50s.
You’d have thought from reading it that we’re a bunch of shrivelled up, hobbling old crones.
…Rather than the vibrant hotties that some people are.
I couldn’t care less if someone wants to wear white, pleather hot pants and a bra top at 50, 60 or even a hundred.
What other people wear is no concern of mine.
But I want to make sure that I look good, classy…and yes, I loathe to say it, but age appropriate (urgh! I shuddered uttering those words).
I don’t like the idea of there being an age limit for clothing. But society being what it is, in reality there is… if we choose to abide by it or not is entirely up to us.
Dress from Tesco, Shoes from Hermes, Bag from Goyard.
I spent my entire spree questioning whether a 50 year old should wear the selection of dresses I’d chosen to try.
And really all I could come up with was if she ******* well wants to she can you stupid woman!
On that note, on Wednesday I wore a short in the length dress, even though I’m long in the tooth.
Dress from French Connection, Shoes from Gucci
I am sorting through some of my old clothes. I am considering what looks good still.
It’s not a midlife crisis, it’s more of a midlife reevaluation.
I’m selling loads of them on Vinted, I only started my Vinted journey on Monday, and so far I’ve sold 20 odd items.
It’s pretty easy to do, but I will admit I got my daughter in law to coach me through the whole process to start with. So I’m very thankful for her help.
I’m clearing my wardrobe of things I don’t wear, can’t wear due to them not fitting, or never wore but foolishly bought it anyway.
It’s not a great business model for me personally; pay a fortune for the clothes and sell them for pennies. But that said, selling them is freeing up wardrobe space. And raising money for my new wardrobe of crimplene dresses, tabards and house coats. :)
Keep well, do what makes you happy. See you soon xx