A hat trick!

Well another good day at the office.  All went well, bloods were excellent, and treatment number 4 has been successfully administered. That means I’m one quarter way through my treatment.  I thought I might have gotten away with having to run the gauntlet of chairs this week, but no, I had to have my 10 second interview with the Professor to see how I am doing on my new low dose.  My mission next week is to get it down to 9 seconds.

Thanks to you all for reading this blog, I have had some very nice feedback on my ramblings.  One person reading, that I don’t know very well, said they were enjoying coming on my ‘journey’ with me every week.  I feel l should be on the X-Factor after hearing that and should have a good ‘back story’ in case I need it (talent is not compulsory!).  It made me think tho.  I don’t consider this a journey.  To me a journey is something that you discuss, plan, book and then eventually go on to enjoy.  And while there has been plenty of discussion about this, I certainly didn’t plan it, and I can’t exactly say I’m enjoying it.

My school colleagues will remember those terrible school tours we used to go on when were were small.  All squeezed on to a bus, with our packed lunches, the Nuns doing a head count every five minutes in case one of us had escaped, and keeping a close eye on us in case we enjoyed ourselves too much, and the bus driver singing ‘40 Shades of Green’, while keeping the bus at a steady 30 miles an hour, a bit like Keanu Reeves in Speed, without the bomb on board of course.  Although there may have been an explosion (by a Nun or a teacher) every now and then if somebody stood up when they shouldn’t have or said are we there yet?!

On one of these auspicious occasions, we went to visit Oliver Plunketts head.  Yes you read that right, there is a head, in a glass case, in a church in Drogheda, of a man called Oliver Plunkett.  Actually he was a Bishop, and was hung drawn and quartered by the English, for being a catholic, in 1681.  As they did.  For some bizarre reason his head traveled afterwards firstly to Rome, then to Armagh, and finally landed in Drogheda, where we as young and impressionable school girls were brought, by the Nuns, to see it on a school tour.  Sometimes my head goes places too, generally more exotic destinations than Drogheda, but usually my body goes along with it. 

On mature recollection this may have been the best tour that I was brought on, but that’s probably because I can’t remember any of the other places we were brought to.  Maybe I have erased them from my memory as the trauma of remembering them is just too much. 

I have heard recently of a trip to Edinburgh that I somehow missed, which sounds fascinating, something about a Scottish mouse, which turned out to be a rat, brought home in somebody's school bag.  Excitable teenagers caught between mounted police and rival soccer fans, sorted out by the Nuns!  This sounds like great material for a separate blog, but that's for another day when I find out all the gory the details. 

But even as I scoff at the memory of the head in the glass case, I still think I would rather be going there than coming here every week. Coming here is like Groundhog Day, of a school tour to the Holy Stone of Clonrichert!



So if it was all about the hair last week, then this week it’s all about the hats!

While I have several: 



I just can’t seem to get one to fit me right. I like this one, it’s kinda sparkly and quite versatile. I can have it three ways.   A hat trick!

1920's lady with Pearls!

as 'Winnie' (Mrs Browns friend)

Turn it inside out as a swimming cap!

(Sorry abut the terrible pictures, I can only blame my phone, or the subject material I have to work with)

But usually. mo matter what way it starts out, the hat ends up like this:

I didn’t realize I have such a skinny head, as it was always generously covered with hair up to now.  All the hats I have are slightly too big and end up slipping down over my face over time.  So I have set my sister a task.  She knit this hat, which is a perfect fit.

But unfortunately it's made from real wool and it's too heavy and I can’t sit about in it all day as I get too warm. So, her mission this week, is to find bamboo wool, a very soft light wool, to knit me a lighter version (or versions!) of this hat.  No pressure Deirdre!

I still can’t get used to my new look.  I’m like Sigourney Weaver in Alien.  Except I’m more Alien then Sigourney!  I get a fright every time I look in a mirror.  I’m thinking of turning all the mirrors in the house around, so that I don’t see myself if I walk by one.  Luckily I work from home and don’t have to think about what hat will go with what clothes I’m wearing every morning, and if I’m in the house on my own I don’t bother with the hat, I go bare headed.  Such a rebel!  I have to make sure I have a hat handy tho, as I don’t want to answer the front door and scare whoever’s at it! 

I’m sure I will get used to this look eventually and come to accept it even, but I’ll never like it.  Never!!

I’m sure Oliver Plunkett would LOVE to have my problems...