Monday, 8 February 2010

Moscow, again

A wind of slavic melancholy is blowing across the frozen steppes of Uccle today. I feel I need a large, droopy moustache to do it justice. Maybe a pipe. Certainly vodka. I imagine it looks a little like Antonia's fantastic film. If you are in the mood for uplifting, feeling a little fragile and in need of light entertainment, click away now. Maybe go and read this article, which I really enjoyed. That lady would not allow herself to get mired in moustache wearing gloom.


The icy spiritual chill is probably partly attributable to my deciding I need to lose some weight this week. Yes, just this week, I find the urge passes very rapidly regardless of whether I obtain results or not. I bought Elle Belgique on the strength of its quixotic cover promise of a one week detox, only to cast it aside at the first mention of 'bouillon'. Screw bouillon. I favour more radical methods, like, having a bath at dinnertime so that I get too sleepy and dazed to bother with food, or not leaving my desk all day. No, you are quite right, voices of reason. This is not sensible behaviour for a former bulimic. But then neither is mainlining cupcakes and peanut butter Chunky KitKats, which has brought me to this point. And to these chins.


Is this a sign of poor mental health? Yes, probably. It usually is. I am a little sad and a lot anxious. Work is tricky, family members are distressingly far away when I want to be round the corner and of some use to them, progress on writing projects is nil and the future seems to sit on the horizon like an ominous Brussels raincloud. On top of that, I had such a hard time saying goodbye to the boys today, especially as half term means I won't see them for a fortnight. Things have been so busy and fraught over the past few months, that I haven't really had time to miss them. I do now, even though things haven't really calmed down that much. A bit like coming off anti-depressants, the effect of spending less time with them didn't hit me immediately, but it has crept up, insidiously. I am in withdrawal and it's hard. I'm in London for most of this week, and that's a quick, radical fix - busy, gregarious, with time spent squeezing my niece and nephew. But I live here, and I will for the foreseeable future. I need to find better ways of coping. I need to get out and get over myself, and I sort of am. Just, not on Siberian Mondays.

I looked at my hand this morning when I reached the office and saw this:


Not the mysterious blue waffle infection.


The pattern of green dots that Fingers for mysterious reasons all his own, drew all over his hand and arm this morning, had transferred to me. Transferred because he won't let go of my hand, nor me of his. He barely let go of me all weekend, and today I feel like I have a limb missing.


God, how depressing (incidentally, I am very sorry but I am too much of a miserable chaotic bastard to cope with Cruel biscuits this week, so Vicious Valentines are off). I'll try and perk things up a little soon, rather than dragging you down in a swirl of Tchaikovsky's 6th and facial hair. If I'm still this miserable tomorrow you have permission to brain me with the nearest samovar.


(And no, I don't know what the fuck is up with the oddly large font.)

24 comments:

jessica said...

Oh dear oh dear. If internet silliness can help in any way, I offer up this little lovely series of drawings, "Better When Warmed":

http://www.theawl.com/2010/02/drawings-in-a-hurry-better-when-warmed

Maybe it's true and you just need warming. Or a sidewalk heart.

Lisa-Marie said...

oh fuck. If you actually want to lose bit of weight, have soup, and occasionally reward yourself with a cupcake.

It must be fucking awful when they go away. My husband went away on a business thing today,and I'm 24 hour nannying for the next week, so I won't see him till Friday, and I cried a shitload. I can't imagine what it's like when it's your children. I send you hugs, and next week, I will make and post you an uber-batch of offered shortbread.

Anonymous said...

Hope this sadness lifts soon and you start to feel better, because you deserve to be happy.
Absolutely love your blog and your beautiful writing.
anon-one

Em said...

Oh dear. Please put down the pipe. Your gorgeous boys will be back to you soon - and everything will be right again.

Wish i could drop off some magic salty caramels that make chins disappear. Perhaps you'll find some in London...

Enjoy. And look after yourself.

WrathofDawn said...

Do not apologize. It is not natural for a mother to be separated from her children for extended periods of time. I know this from personal experience.

I know this is too far in the future to help, but the enforced separations do make the empty nest easier to tolerate, I've found.

Chins up!

Sorry. Couldn't resist.

connie said...

Dear girl - February's a shit month. Try to eat a good diet - a good home-made muesili with some fruit and low-fat yoghurt for breakfast. Good sandwich with lean protein for lunch and lots of vegies and lean meat for dinner. Lovely glass of wine with the dinner. Do this and your innards will be happier and healthier and you will be too. And remember that March isn't far away and that...all will be well.
Recipe for the muesili:
pkt flaked almonds
pkt sultanas or other dried fruit (chopped)
pkt Kellogs Guardian (one of the best cerials)
pkt rice flakes
small pkt coconut
pkt porridge (rolled oats)

Throw everything into a big plastic bag - go outside to mix it all up - I've had the lot over the kitchen on occasions. Put in container and Bob's your uncle you've got a great muesili. Half a cup in a bowl with some fruit and yoghurt on top and you've got a great breakfast. Love Connie

redfox said...

When things feel specially grey and Eastern European Cold War ish around me, I sometimes find it helps to pretend that I am in a John LeCarre novel. Cloth coats and cartons of cigarettes and Moscow rules.

the polish chick said...

screw bouillon! it's one step up (or down, depending on your perspective) from the cabbage soup diet. fuck it, fuck it up the bum, fuck it up the bum with a syphilitic cock. and that's all i have to say about that.

LaurenR said...

This is a hard time in your life. It's okay that it feels like crap! Poor thing. Just be good to yourself.

Jessica said...

First, I'll point out that statistically this is one of the most depressing weeks for people around the world. Definitely get yourself some extra daylight if you can, it helps (though I know it's rare to actually *see* the orb here.)

Second. I'm with you. Fuck bouillon. As a recovered anorexic, I find myself vigilant against getting bigger but also against becoming extreme, but I am hurt when the wii tells me on a drowsy morning that my "wii age" is 40 or something, simply because my balance hasn't kicked in. It's hard not to take things personally sometimes, so I try not to. -Do not take the chins personally, nor half-term.

If the knee of doom isn't acting up too badly, again - going out for a walk and a little half-daylight will help. Believe it or not, sleeping more is actually an excellent way to lose chins too, (less cortisol floating around in the blood = less of your body holding on to things it doesn't need.)

If you find yourself mysteriously in a situation with something in your mouth you know isn't good for you... put it down, or in the garbage. You may either spit out the mouthful or swallow it. But no throwing up, ok?

Lastly, this quote, painted on a ceiling beam struck me while sitting in a pub on my trip. "Melancholy is the pleasure of being sad." Sometimes dressing up like stoic Russians is ok, just remember that it's still you under the moustache.

There, there.

Anonymous said...

Don't forget an excellent fur hat to go with the mustache!

LĂ©onie said...

It's funny that in one comments box you can go from a muesli recipe to the phrase "fuck it up the bum with a syphilitic cock"...

Sending you lots of love from drizzly Manchester. Hope things are sunnier soon. xxxx

Mya said...

Having never been a fan exactly of bouillon,I'm beginning to feel rather sorry for the stuff!
I always find a bowl of pumpkin soup rather cheering - or Borscht might be more appropriate - but don't stain your moustache.
I really hope you feel better soon...I know that little boys can leave quite a vacuum.
Mya x

Sarah said...

Uggh - nothing useful to add but tons of sympathy. I especially know the too-far-from-loved-ones feeling & it's brutal. Sounds like the last few months are catching up with you, the bastards. Am sure London will be a big boost. And spring will soon be upon us, with many baby animals for mood fixing...

frau antje said...

Sounds like this mood will have you not only aware of stains on your clothing, but eating your guts out over them. I do worry about you drinking watered down vodka from ox intestines though, especially in London.

Oh well, can't be helped. It's ok. You're doing fine.

Persephone said...

Okay, I'm sure someone has already sent you the link, but I was listening to CBC Radio this morning and they mentioned this and I immediately thought of you. If you've seen it already, ignore me studiously, but if not, a possible project for the weepette?

Chantal said...

Just many of these: ((((hug)))) and all the good stuff people have posted above. I hope London behaves itself for you xx

gretchen said...

oh dear that is hard. but then on the plus side: no children to pick up after or feed, more free time to just be. lets enjoy that thought for just a moment. and please don't "be" anything but our dear belgian waffle, just as you are. you're wonderful. right now. really. no matter how many chins you have...

Margaret said...

God, why must February suck so?? Did you know that every single person in the world has been thinking he needs to lose weight today? Do you know why? Because of the suckiness of February. It's all February's fault! You don't need to lose weight--February does. February should be two days long, and then it should be March, which is bearable because it's practically April. Do not give in to February. Fuck it up the bum with polish chick's syphlitic cock.

the polish chick said...

um, for the record, i am not, nor have i ever, actually been the registered owner of a syphilitic cock. just so you know. but if i did, i'd rent it out by the hour, cause that thing would come in handy.

Jaywalker said...

I'm glad you cleared that up Polish Chick; I am sure the bouillon and February are too.

Hey wasn't this all full of pathos and sadness? How the fuck did we end up talking about syphilitic cock rental? I love you all.

the polish chick said...

this is what happens when i get let in the room.

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