Of course the trouble with not going to school very often and using science lessons as fag breaks is that the opportunity to obtain a career within the medical profession is pretty limited for a girl like me.




In fact the reality of the situation is that I am currently facing two obtainable options. I could either look at becoming a surgeon, specialising in 'Operation,' (you know, the game where you use tweezers to take out body parts and if you put the wrong bits in the wrong places you get buzzed.) Or indeed i could consider option two, which is becoming a slutty nurse with a little assistance from the dressing-up section of Ann Summers. So you see, very limited options indeed.




Fortunately, however, i am pleased to announce that I have no huge desires to embark on a new career in the medical profession anyway, though I do have a talent for diagnosing my own medical problems.




And it is with this talent, coupled with a little internet research, that i have concluded to diagnose my current state of health. And it doesn't look good guys. Because I've decided to diagnose myself with the dreaded Swine Flu.




(Either that or I have a cold.)




As much as I'd love to have your sympathy right now, (I am a firm believer in the curing wonders of a touch of sympathy and a new pair of shoes – so please feel free to send shoes also,) – I probably don't deserve it. Because, Swine Flu or Common Cold, either way, I've probably bought it all on myself.




I've partied far too much in the last week or so. I practically drank both Jay and Corny under the table the other night (when we had an impromptu evening of fun, frolics and karaoke) and I've lived off a diet of Budweiser and chips for a few days too long, (such a classy bird am i!) - not exactly running around screaming, 'get me, get me' to any form of virus going, but not really giving my immune system the best possible chances either.




The very fact that I am even considering my immune system when i go out and let my hair down these days, probably indicates that I am too old for all this malarkey. Too old to be imitating Amy Winehouse's lifestyle, (though probably just old enough to wisely spend her money,) and too old to be assuming that my bod will bounce back to normality the morning after.




Well I have learnt my lesson and am suffering the affects now. Especially now that I *have Swine Flu.




Today I have on the sexy and alluring scent of Eau De Vicks, and I am popping Cold and Flu tablets like there's no tomorrow, (of course there might not be if I get much worse) – my nose is running (but it's okay cos I've bought some more toilet roll since my last blog) and I am generally feeling rough.




An early night, a little TLC and a cuddle from my two gorgeous men should be just the medicine I need. Your lovely messages won't go a miss either ;-)




P.S – I don't know if it's possible to diagnose oneself as a hypochondriac, but if it is, i think i am. (she says shamefully ...)

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When I was at school, the subject of Science appeared on my timetable merely to bridge the gap between the subjects that I, personally, found more stimulating. Like Drama and Lunchtime. Three times a week I was provided with the perfect period in which to smoke fags in the woods and re-do my make-up and thus my entire scientific knowledge could probably be written on the back of a shopping receipt.




Yes I know that H20 is the periodic code for water, (and J2O must, therefore be the code for juice, lol) and I know that gravity is the force to blame for the sagging of various body parts in the latter stages of life. I also know a little about genetics.




My knowledge of the human anatomy came directly from the problem pages of J17 and More magazine and I have never, ever dissected a frog, or any other animal for that matter.




Science bored the pants off of me and I wasn't about to waste what little time I did spend behind the school gates being bored. Perhaps if I could turn the clocks back I would have concentrated a little more, smoked a little less and saved some dosh on foundation and mascara, but then again perhaps if I'd have concentrated a little more I wouldn't be quite so open to non-scientific theories on life in general.




Astrology, alternative therapies and the paranormal are far more likely to gage my interest. I'm not really religious but I'd sooner buy into the story of Adam, Eve and the Snake than I would details of The Big Bang and Evolution. (Not just because I love a good old romance and a bit of nudity, I hasten to add,) I'm ashamed to admit that I am not intellectual enough to grasp the basics of evolution – I've always wondered, for example, if we evolved from monkeys, how come monkeys still exist? Surely they should be humans too? Or did only a percentage of monkeys evolve and the rest simply remained monkeys? You see? I am absolutely hopelessly clueless.




I particularly, whilst I'm on the subject, loathe Science Fiction as a form of entertainment. The entire concept of fusing Science, which by definition is based on fact, with fiction born from the minds of geeky teenaged boys, just doesn't do it for me. I think the two should be separated completely. Either we believe the men in the white coats or we take the imaginative route instead, thank you very much. (I don't mean to offend anyone here by the way, I've never actually seen Star Wars, but I've heard it is quite good and I know that Princess Leia was very beautiful with a fabulous hair-do!)




What I do love is the Supernatural. Not the programme, (which Jay watches religiously, I'm not a fan, though do tune in for the Sam and Dean deliciousness) but the idea of ghosts and angels and life after death never ceases to amaze me.




I am a firm believer in the existence of 'something else,' - not just because of my own, 'magic powers,' (which I won't tell you about for fear you'll think I'm even nuttier then you ever thought before,) but because I cannot comprehend the idea of one coming to the end of their lives and dying into absolute nothingness. (Ooooh I was half expecting a red squiggly line there but apparently 'nothingness' is actually a word.)




Without getting deep and meaningless and starting the 'life – what's it all about' age-old debate, (which one should only ever indulge in after taking drugs or drinking lots anyway, because otherwise it is too complicated a subject for the poor human brain to take on,) – I do have my own little theory and that is that I believe life is all about learning. You live, you love and you learn and when you die your soul carries the traits and the knowledge you've gained from one life, right on to the next. It's reincarnation, but not as we know it ;-)




I also believe that we have the ability to tune into other zones and thus that we can indeed communicate with those no longer living in the 'zone' we're in right now.




Some communicate with the powers of mind, some use ouigi boards, some go to spiritualists church's or mediums, some ring those ridiculously expensive telephone numbers in the back of magazines. But me? I use the powers of the almighty baby monitor . . .




Our house is old, (don't ask me how old, I haven't a clue,) it's a cottage built from stone and decorated by a blind person with very little patience, (I assume? Though that's pretty irrelevant anyway) – and very often one can feel the strange sensation of a kind of 'presence' in the place.




Some strange things have happened, objects have been moved. (I once came down the stairs to find the telly was tilted and facing a wall . . .) and then I went with my pal Tasha to a spiritualist church and guess what they told me? They said my house was haunted.




To be more precise they said that the spirit of a small child might just be lurking around the joint. A week later Jay found some peculiar old toys in our loft. (The little hairs on my arms are now standing to attention, how's yours?!)




So this was months and months ago and although a few eerie things have happened since, none quite so eerie as the episode the other night.




My hubby and I were laying in bed at about 3am, when the lights on our baby monitor suddenly flashed red, detecting movement in our sons bedroom. These lights were accompanied, not so strangely, by the sound of a baby crying. I wouldn't have batted a sleepy eye lid if it wasn't for the fact that our baby was at that moment in time laying in his fathers arms.




We've since heard a number of peculiar noises coming from Leo's baby monitor. The sound of a small child singing, (whilst my other small child was sound asleep,) - the hushed voices of adults talking, Country and Western music, you name it, it's been bought to directly to our bedroom via the monitor.




The simple explanation of course is that our monitor is simply picking up the signal from somebody else in the area, which is totally plausible as many a fresh baby has been born in the village and at least one of the families must have a monitor like ours, yet at 4 in the morning there is something a little scary about hearing a man who isn't my husband chatting away in my room. Lol

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