Yesterday morning – Saturday on the Easter Bank Holiday weekend – The Bloke and I were awake early. It was a rare day where both of us had the entire day to ourselves, so I suggested that we take advantage of the beautiful weather and go out somewhere.
The conversation about a day-trip to Solihull quickly turned into a trip to Worcester. We got ready and got on the bus…
… and ended up in London.
Yesterday after I had posted I took a look through the general blog… and oh my gosh it needs seriously updating.
However, when I was scrolling down my sidebar I noticed this:
I must have hit the 1.5 million view mark recently, and completely missed it.
Holy cow.
You know where you suddenly look up and there’s a realisation of being present for the first time in what seems like forever?
That happened to me last week. I woke up, checked my phone and realised that it was 7.00am, The Bloke had gone to work, it was light outside and suddenly it was the second week in March. I know that there was a February at some point, but I don’t seem to have fully acknowledged it.
It has been over two months since we moved house and things have been interesting.
We finally have a sofa that was delivered yesterday (seriously, UK residents DO NOT order from SCS), and up until that point The Bloke and I had spent a considerable amount of time since January slumped on an air mattress on the floor of the living room. Getting on and off that thing resulted in a fit of giggles on more than one occasion, particularly when my 67 year old mother visited and sat on it. The actual sitting part wasn’t too bad, it was more watching her attempt to get back up again in a manner that Buster Keaton would be proud of.
Comedy gold at its finest.
Mum has visited on several occasions since the start of the New Year. A few days after we moved, we had tickets to see a Rat Pack concert that we had booked last year, so once she had had the tour of the new place, we went and stayed in a hotel in the city – there were boxes everywhere and nowhere for her to sleep, so it made more sense to go and stay close to the venue. It was nice walking through the Mailbox and the canal at night with all the lights – one of my favourite places in Birmingham.
I have visited Marco Pierre White Steakhouse Bar & Grill a number of times over the years, and even had the opportunity to interview the man himself back in 2019. I like it – it has always been a place to visit for spectacular views of the city and a nice cocktail in a relaxed atmosphere. I’m a big fan of several of the dishes – my favourite dessert in Birmingham was the Chocolate Mousse from MPW.
However, the prestigious restaurant, situated on Level 25 of the Cube, has recently undergone a refurbishment, and we were offered the chance to have a sneak peak at the new changes and get a taste of the new menu. As I was unable to attend, I sent a friend in my place to have a look…
There’s nothing like moving house to remind me that I have the upper body strength of a toddler and I’m insanely unfit.
Brace yourself. This is a long one.
The Bloke and I moved house at the beginning of January. It’s been a long time (I think about eight years!) since our last move and not one that we had planned on – our landlord suddenly suggested late last year that he was thinking of selling the house, leaving us in the precarious position of potentially being given notice and needing to find somewhere new in a very short amount of time, in an area that is very much in demand. We decided to take ownership of the situation and found somewhere ourselves, and struck lucky with a beautiful property not far away.
As you may be able to tell from my previous post, the end of 2023 is not the relaxed and restful time that I had hoped for. We’re in the process of moving house, we’re up to our eyeballs in boxes, and I’m more than a little anxious about everything that we need to do over the coming week.
Consequently, and after everything else that we have had to deal with, it’s difficult not to look back on this year with a level of negativity.
2023 has been tough. My mum spent the first four months of the year in and out of hospital, The Bloke’s auntie passed away, my father died, my workload has been insane and on more than one occasion I have had to start putting my foot down and set boundaries with a few people who have made constant demands on my time and energy while being rude and dismissive in the process – something that has gone on for far too long. The year has felt like a constant battle and I’m tired.
However, in times like this I turn to the opening pages in my Bullet Journal, titled ‘Memories and Highlights.’ It’s one of my favourite things – a double page of all the great experiences that The Bloke and I have had throughout the year.
And despite the nonsense, the double page is filled.
This year we’ve seen over thirty shows at five different theatres. My favourites were Rock of Ages (which I think we’ve seen four times now), SIX (which has been on my list for a long time), Sinatra at The REP, and The Bodyguard.
I’ve seen the term ‘Twixmas’ thrown around a lot over the last week. Apparently meaning the period between Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve, it has represented a feeling of nothingness – Christmas is over, many are off work (or at least, have had a few days off) and it’s often a time of relaxing and recovering from the festivities before preparing for the start of a new year.
My ‘Twixmas’ usually involves a little bit of work, lots of sleeping, eating snacks and watching movies. This year, however, we’re up to our eyeballs in boxes, packing tape and bubble wrap.
Because we’re moving house. Next week.
Great.
“At the beginning of December I’m going to go all out with the Christmas decorations,” I said to The Bloke last month.
We’re moving house at the beginning of January and so it is going to be the last Christmas we have here. I had every intention of making a huge effort – Christmas over the last few years has been haphazard and last-minute and both The Bloke and I have felt like we’ve just gone through the motions rather than actually feeling festive and celebrating.
And then at the beginning of December I got covid. I’ve been pretty careful at trying to stay as safe as possible, but I met up with a friend at the end of November and must have picked it up on the bus on the way home – there were lots of people coughing and spluttering and because it was minus temperatures all the windows were closed.
On Friday night I logged off and sank back into the couch. Last week wasn’t particularly bad, but it was certainly intense in the sheer volume of work that appeared on my daily lists. While everything got done I was left feeling mentally and physically exhausted.
Additionally, my sleep patterns have been all over the place (thank you, peri-menopause), and this has resulted in lots of my working hours being conducted through what has felt like a hazy fog behind my eyeballs recently.
Working for myself has a number of positives… in theory. I don’t have an awful daily commute, I can set my own hours, choose who I work with and I don’t have a micro-managing, passive-aggressive line manager to deal with (of which I have experienced many). While these are all things that I appreciate on a daily basis, I have found that as my client base has grown, an increasing level of fear has accompanied it…
Isn’t it strange how, when you find yourself in a difficult situation, the universe seemingly steps in and shows you the direction in which you need to go?
I discussed recently about the challenges that The Bloke and I have faced this year, particularly with the death of various family members and my mum being ill. We’re both tired and a bit stressed, we both struggle with depression and anxiety on occasion and both of us have found ourselves getting through the day on autopilot when things have got really tough.
Suzie Speaks 
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