Someone, somewhere, is having a laugh.
At my expense.
There is no other explanation for why I currently have a head cold in the same week that I've had heat exhaustion.
We are not amused.
Average forecasted temperature in London over next five days: 26.6 degrees celsius.
Average forecasted temperature in Lanarkshire over next five days: 20.4 degrees celsius.
Maximum forecasted temperature in London over next five days: 30 degrees celsius.
Maxiumum forecasted temperature in Lanarkshire over next five days: 22 degrees celsius.
Current temperature in my room, at half past midnight: 31 degrees celsius.
Lowest temperature in my room, over past fortnight: 27 degrees celsius.
So. Not particularly surprising that I got heat exhaustion, really.
I'm Scottish. We're just not built to deal with this kind of heat.
Also.
NEVER ever living in an attic again.
Great in winter, not so great in summer.
By an entirely (un)scientific process, we have a winner.
Matthew Pennell - take a bow. You managed to get not just one, but two of the worst photos of me ever taken. Congratulations!
I hope you feel proud.
Dotjay was a very close second though, with this "lucky" shot of me looking like a deranged lunatic.
Both of which make me wish that there were some way to be able to invoke photoshopping on one's appearance in real time, rather than just after the damage has been done and the pixels are committed to memory card.
Cos really, wouldn't it be fun to, on a whim, be able to walk around bathed in a soft sepia glow like this?
Some of you might remember me writing a plea for help, on behalf of a colleague a while back, or me appealing for sponsorship for one of my colleagues who went sledding for Sam in January of this year.
Today is the one year anniversary of the accident which nearly killed Sam, and injured Kazumi.
One year on, his progress is nothing short of miraculous, but there's a long way to go yet. He needs round the clock care, and will need specialised treatment and equipment as he grows and develops.
A blog has been set up - stuff4sam - to track the various things we're doing to help raise money to buy him a special cycle and the other things we're doing to help cheer him, Neil and Kazumi up, and remind them that we're all still thinking about them.
Which is where you lot come in.
We want to say hi to Sam from as many places in the world as we can. Kind of like the postcards from the garden gnome in Amelie.
Wherever you are - grab a copy of the Hi Sam Poster PDF and print it out. Then take a picture of yourself holding it and either email it to stuff4sam@gmail.com or post it on your blog, linking to the stuff4sam blog, and drop them a line to let them know you've done it.
Of course, you don't have to just use the poster - anything you feel like holding up with "hi Sam!" written on it would be fine (but do remember that he's only 2, and where the bounds of taste and decency lie).
Faililng that, any money you feel like dropping in the bucket would be very much appreciated, and you can do this via the justgiving page.
Insomnia's a bitch.
Heat-related sleeplessness on top of insomnia is just not fair.
I got fed up trying (and failing) to get to sleep, so I got up and did a little spinning and there's definite improvement.
I really need sleep though, and soon. Sleep deprivation and the requirement to do lots of HTML and CSS coding really isn't a good mix.
Okay, I promise I'll stop with the fibre overload and -tastic post titles real soon. Honest.
But first, some showing off.
I made actual yarn. 2 ply and everything. Words cannot express how giddy this makes me.
First I continued on with the Wensleydale I'd been playing with last night.
Then I dug in the fibre stash and pulled out some merino, which was actually the first fibre I bought - last year at Ally Pally, when I bought my first drop spindle. I should have known it'd be a slippery slope.
Anyway, I found some deep blue that I bought (no idea why, not really my colour), and gave that a go, figuring I didn't care if I wasted it, so it stands to reason that I actually started to make reasonable yarn with it. Humph.
Then I pulled out some of the dark red I'd been playing with on the spindle, and after a couple of false starts, managed to spin some reasonable stuff out of that. Then I plied the two, making something which reminds me of a school tie, but progress is progress.
In other fibre news, my second sock pal got her socks. Carrie had been let down by her original sock pal, so I answered the appeal for socks in progress, and donated a pair which had originally been intended for my mum (but I explained the situation and she was fine with it, and I'll knit her an even better pair in due course) and so I'm really pleased that she's finally got them, they fit and she likes them.
... and last, but decidedly not least, I knitted some booties for Bernard.
How genius is this?
A squirty bottle with a fan on the top. Start fan, spray water. Water is misted by fan and cools and refreshes.
A personal air conditioning system, and for the princely some of one pound!
Fan-tastic indeed. Thanks mum! (who even put a couple of batteries in the envelope so I could use it straight away)
It is crappy and uneven, but it is recognisably yarn, spun with my own two hands (and one foot), on my brand, shiny, new spinning wheel.
Yay. I made yarn.
What's in the box?
An hour and a half of work til I allow myself to open it.
An hour and a half of very productive work later, and the box is open. Can you tell what it is yet?
All oiled up and ready to go...
And the final result...
It's a spinning wheel. A Louet S17, courtesy of P&M Woolcraft and put together with some help from Neil and Adrian from Hello Yarn who graciously emailed me her fabulous rewritten instructions.
It is very lovely and a fantastic piece of precision engineering. I am very pleased. Now I just need to learn how to use it.
There's a very good reason why I try and stay away from other people's cameras.
In fact, there's about 20 very good reasons currently floating around flickr, as a result of @media socialising.
Other people's cameras get one's odd, bumpy, freaky, wtf'y and downright oh-my-gawd! do-i-really-look-like-that? kill-me-now... side.
It feels wrong to let this event pass unremarked.
So.
I propose a vote.
View photos tagged with pixeldiva then view photos tagged with my actual name. If you're feeling very brave indeed (or haven't eaten in a while), you can even click to view the true horror in it's larger version.
Then come back here, and leave the url of the one you think is the worst in the comments.
The winner will be the one with the most votes, and will receive the coveted title of "worst photo of me ever" and thenceforth, I shall carry a large brown paper bag around with me, just on the off chance anyone has a stray camera with them at any public events.
Because sometimes, when you're very very tired, and very very cold (malfunctioning aircon), and have absorbed way too much migraine medication over the last few days, a bizarre kind of lunacy comes over you, and you find yourself taking photos of a line of smarties that just happens to look like the titular character of one of your favourite childhood books.
define
verb
What defines you?
I get up and get ready for work, feeling tired and a bit ill. Don't think much more of it, until I get on the bus, when the urge to throw up and the mental effort required to repress the urge overtake my ability to concentrate on my knitting. Feel like I should get off the bus, but I'm more than halfway to work now, and if I hang on a bit longer, there's a good chance I can vomit in the work toilets rather than in the gutter on Caledonian Road, which is the preferable scenario if there's vomiting to be done.
Get to work. Feel sick. Eat. Feel sick. Work. Feel sick. Take paracetamol for headache. Feel sick. Can't concentrate cos I feel sick. Go home. Feel sick. Flatmate cooks dinner. Feel sick. Eat it. Feel sick. Go to sleep (eventually). Feel sick.
Wake up. Feel sick. Get up and make it to Euston to catch a train to Birmingham. Feel sick. Attend day long meeting. Feel sick. Fall asleep on train home. Feel sick. Get bus home from Euston. Feel sick and contemplate getting off the bus, except for the vomiting in gutters thing. Get home. Feel sick. Force self to eat. Feel sick. Go to sleep (eventually). Feel sick.
Wake up. Feel sick. Get up. Feel sick. Leave the house. Feel sick. Get on bus and sit in shadier spot than Monday. Feel sick. Feel sense of deja vu. Feel sick. Make it to work. Feel sick. Eat toast. Feel sick. Take paracetamol for headache. Feel sick. Try to work. Feel sick. Struggle to put words in right order in sentences. Feel sick. Turn from dark corner to lighter part of office to talk to colleagues. Feel sick. Eyes go funny. Head feels like someone cracked open my skull with axe. Realisation dawns.
Go outside with colleague. Feel sick. Feel faint. Can't see. BRIGHT LIGHT!! LOUD!! Crap.
Go to chemist, ask if Imigran is available over the counter yet. He says no. Feel like crying. He sees face of woman on edge. Decides to check computer. Ah. Is available, but not immediately. Can I wait til 3pm? (No.)
Go back to desk. Feel worse. Try to stay quiet and in as little light as possible. Feel sick. Head hurts a lot. Peripheral vision not unlike water running down glass. Trippy, but annoying. Can't think straight.
Can't wait. Go home, via Boots, who have Imigran. Almost pass out as I pass workmen with jackhammers on Euston Road. Noise and light so intensely painful it brings tears to my eyes. Feel like I'm going to throw up on bus. Get home. Take Imigran.
Body starts to dissolve from outside in. Have to look to reassure myself that hands, feet, arms and legs are still attached. Who needs illegal drugs when the over the counter stuff is this trippy? Minutes later, feel completely separated from my physical form. Messages to hands and feet seem to get lost in translation. Close eyes and go to sleep.
Wake up. Don't feel sick. Headache gone. Yay. Bright light and noise still an issue, but less so. Fantastic. It worked.
Damn. Spoke to soon. Migraine returns in different form. Hold off as long as I can, take second dose of Imigran. Repeat trippy experience until sleep takes hold.
Wake up. Don't feel sick. Headache mostly gone. Get to bus, start to feel sick. Get to work, funny eye stuff back. Start to work, headache back. Tell myself I'll go home after meeting. Meeting time comes and goes. Realise I've got dates mixed up. Damn. Feel like death warmed up. Can't take any more over the counter Imigran for several hours. Phone doctor. Get appointment in 20 minutes time. Rush to GP surgery, get there 10 minutes late. Good thing it's nearly lunch. Get taken straight away. Get prescription for proper Imigran, in nasal spray form. Go to chemist. They don't have it. Go to other chemist. They do have it. Almost weep with relief. Get Imigran. Get home. Lie quietly til I can safely take another dose of Imigran.
Read instructions. Inhale nasal spray. Realise they were somewhat underestimating the "strange taste" part of explaining what will happen after you take it. Keep taking mouthfuls of ginger ale to get rid of the taste. Migraine goes away (again). Yay.
Boo. Migraine comes back (again). Can't take more Imigran so take other painkillers to help me go to sleep.
Wake up. Feel shit. Phone in to work. Take other painkillers again as can't take more Imigran yet. Go to sleep.
Wake up. Migraine faded to mild nuisance. Decide against wasting a nasal spray when I might need it more in days to come. Go back to sleep.
Wake up. Get dinner. Go for walk. Feel bit better, but light and noise still a problem. Cancel plans for weekend, as am no good to man nor beast. Go to sleep.
Wake up. Stay in darkened room with fan on all day, watching TV and using laptop only once brightness and sound turned down. Go to sleep.
Wake up. Stay in darkened room with fan on all day, watch Grand Prix. Feel exhausted.
So how as your week?
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
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