Do you come here often?

My word! I haven't been on here since May! It was only because I followed a link to some chaps Antarctic blog page that I even remembered I had this.

Not sure why I stopped. Fairly sure it would have been something to do with a crushing sense of paranoia about my public image (hah!) and would anyone really be reading this and would you all think me odd and vain and stupid and...and...

However, I'm so over that. Not in a cocky way you understand but since May I have learned a couple of things.


1. No-ones interest in these things runs deeper than an idle coffee time curiosity unless you're like really famous or live in Antarctica for 6 months of the year [seethes with jealousy]
2. Shit happens. You cannot prevent it. Learn to deal
3. I do have willpower. It just needs exercising now and again
4. I was right.

And so, Bob (as I have named you - my one, mocha-drinking blog browser) sit back and prepare to be well, given something to do until the gritty chocolate-y bits at the bottom of the cup hit your throat and force you from your idle perusings and back to work.

The story so far:

Yadda yadda nervous breakdown, yadda recovery, downsizing, health kick, fresh food, lots of chickens, growing own veg, bit of running, quite a few mountains, more veg, more chickens...

Then the fox killed all the chickens (except Fred, Manchego and Hector) at 10.30am one fine summers morning while I'd popped out to work and ruined everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. I lost all interest in chooks and veg growing and yes, everything. I like to think of it as a mini-breakdown. Fred et al certainly had a mini breakdown and refused to come out of the coop again until a week ago when we finally got more chooks (we're stupid or determined, not sure which yet). These chooks however are protected by 45,000,ooo volts/98,00000000000 amps of good old electric fencing and yard lighting worthy of Alcatraz. Fred is so confident in said electric fencing that one swears he now crows 'bring it on brush-bum'. I turned to food, specifically cake. I made cake 24 hours a day. I made cake until even the local town got fat. I'm getting over it, the veg plot survived and I stopped eating but hey, more on this later.

[Bob - you've a bit of froth on your chin mate]

And so, from chickens to humans. 'Child', our errant 3.5 year old, is now a pupil at the prestigious and extraordinarily-difficult-to-get-to-in-on-time-in-morning/afternoon-traffic Private School. No, we're not rich (far from it), no I don't think he'll get a better education there and no, I don't harbour any hidden desire to drive a white Porche Cayenne Turbo whilst wearing a Lacroix jumpsuit and Coco bins. No, this is all to do with tradition. His father went (and mother and sister), his father before him etc and so Child now dons the red jumper of The Private School and joins the annuls of Horne History. I did have a major gripe about him attending Private School but have got over it since Child has been coming home with words like 'Bacteria' and 'Gastropod' and using them in situations he really shouldn't (e.g restaurant at weekend with entire family and Child announces in loud three-year-old voice he can't eat from that plate as it has Bacteria on it - cue entire restaurant pushing their plates away disgustedly). Hysterically good fun.

Husband (god love him, and I do with all my heart) has finally turned into one of his subsea creations and now pours himself a beer of an evening using a pair of HLK-MB4's (thats arms from an ROV Bob..) that he had retro-fitted. He has also developed a liking for stir fry and has (as we now cook seperately - explained later) created the same dish every evening for about a month now. I grant you, its very, very tasty and any progress in the kitchen beyond his previous favourite dish of 'Chicken Korma from a jar' is to be congratulated and encouraged. He is still extraordinarily patient and still apparently loves me as he serviced my landrover willingly only 2 weeks ago.

And I. What have I done in these few short months other than eat and take my grief out on the leeks? Well, quite a lot Bob actually. I'm still downsized and working at the deli and yes, I still enjoy it but recently..oh recently I've been a hankerin' after ships and large lumps of metal again. Husband is aware of this and is nervous now. I'm not pretty when stressed and ships stress me even if they are a part of my genetic make-up.

Daughter and Grand Daughter moved to Germany with Son-in-Law in July. I went to visit in September and decided I like North Germany even if it is flatter than Keiras chest. Its very pretty and full of odd things. I have learnt some german now so that I may converse with the grumpy old cow at the bakery in Walsrode.

Eldest Child has joined the Marines and sends home pictures of him covered in mud and posing in front of ironing boards with his rifle. I'm struggling to link Marine/fighting machine and Son/cute baby in my head but he is happy, which is all important.

Middle Son passed all exams and has returned to school for 5th and 6th year which I am very pleased about. I am also pleased that he is going to be racing with me on Nov 29th at Haddo (see running below).

And in the 'rest of my life' area things are going swimmingly well. Almost literally. I saw a photo of me and I am fatter in said photo than I was and this Will Not Do.

And so, 12 weeks of intense running, cycling, swimming, weight training, yoga, climbing and healthy eating later...I've lost a total of 2 inches from bust, 3 inches from waist, 3 inches from hips and some inches from arms and thighs. My thighs...lord my thighs...they are made of steel! Even in my incessant hilltramping days I did not have thighs such as these and Husband is mightily impressed (He even raised an eyebrow!). Running, in particular, has taken over my life again and now instead of dresses, I spend hours poring over Runners World magazine reviews for the newest and latest running shoe technology breakthroughs. I even joined Runnersworld forum so I could speak to other people who too have been shunned by their partners for going on and on and on and on about mileage/pace/reps and who don't look at you funny if you say 'fartlek'. But, in all seriousness, I feel magic. I feel like the old me - a bit creaky, a welcome sense of mild fatigue and always worrying about wether that is ITB syndrome or just pain because I've been doing a new yoga pose. I'm even considering Triathlon just to completely destroy my joints. Man, its good to be back!