Bloody knees!

What is it with me and knees? Why when I am in my 40s have I clattered them on two separate occasions – having had no problems like this between being, oooh, about 10 and 42?!

Last time I was slightly tipsy. I fell over and scraped them, clattered them on the ground, made lots of covert whimpering noises and even went to the minor injuries unit a week later due to the fear of having cracked something. See my post here if you really want to know more.

This time I was doing something equally stupid. Not prancing out in the garden. Noooo. This time I was doing handstands. In my flat. In my flat with wooden floors. Obviously without a mat down. Why would I do anything so sensible as take precautions when practicing handstands?

This was on Thursday. My current knee state is as follows:

  • Bloody sore;
  • Uncomfortable (acutely so) in any low lunge, kneeling or on knees position (yoga before you ask);
  • Bruised;
  • Bloody sore; and
  • Probably not cracked.

I am an adult

Yep. I am an adult. To be fair I was doing wild kicking up against the wall handstands because I want to manage a press handstand this year. It’s a goal. A yoga goal although I am convinced this will be handy for a numerous array of other purposes.

I don’t even think I am too old to be doing this type of activity. Your 40s are technically like your 30s. When I was really young I always assumed no one made it past around 35. Now I am in my 40s I think no one makes it past 90 or at least not gracefully. Don’t all 90 year olds dribble a little?

So yeah…handstands. Yep…scraped and clattered knees. Even a few whimpers as I hugged them while rolled into a little ball on my living room rug for a good 10 minutes after. It didn’t take long for my whimpers to turn into giggles. The whole situation is amusingly ridiculous.

Tomorrow I’m going to be practicing handstands again. Without any kind of padding. Slightly mad I know. But why not live a little dangerously, stupidly, and definitely not gracefully.

Photo by Lucrezia Carnelos on Unsplash

Getting chatted up

If you chat someone up then you are (according to the dictionary) speaking to them in an informal way because you are sexually attracted to them. Another example might be “he came on to me”.

Some people don’t believe me (you know who you are!), but I never really know when I am being chatted up unless it is pretty obvious. The pretty obvious ones seem to always be in the most un-obvious of places. Even then I sometimes only realise what happened a little later; usually when people are laughing at my account of the situation.

Do other people always know? Tell me how please! Is it a wink? That could just be a tick you know. A slight touch of the arm? They could just be one of those tactile people. Or are you like me and someone literally has to chase you around a building or matter of factly state that they like you (in a sexual not freindly way) to get your attention on the fact they just might fancy you?

For someone who thinks they are really good (I am really good) at figuring out other peoples behaviours I have a massive blind spot when it comes to myself. At least I can laugh at this deficiency. After telling my ‘chatting up’ story this week I figure why not share a couple of them!


An odd heading – yes. An even odder situation – definitely. Oh gawd if anyone who knows this person reads this I am really screwed as it was recently.

What the hell. So……

I went to a funeral of friend of mine who lost someone close. He gave me the details and so I was there. My intention? To show support to him as a friend, to sit in the back, quietly pay my respects and then leave quietly after giving him a wee nod.

I should put a disclaimer on this one. I am not 100% sure this was a chat up but in a dark humorous kind of way it probably was. Maybe… was. If it wasn’t then it was just weird.

I was quietly waiting to go in when I got a tap on the shoulder. Hi are you here alone he said. Trying to be polite (whilst answering an obvious question) I said yes. The chat continued. I find it awkward chatting during sombre events which my face probably conveyed but he persisted. Initially this seemed ok as it was the usual how do you know such and such, this is how I know such and such.

Until…. “So what is it you do?”

Stop right there. Was it just an awkward question? A tick? A wink? The next statement floored me. When I said what my job was the response was “I am in batteries”. Quite honestly what do you do with that statement. Trying not to laugh given the situation I said…after quite a long and awkward silence…”oh”. There was more awkward chat. I managed to run away to the back of the church.

Was it a chat up? In a slightly reluctant way I think yes. This probability was increased somewhat when my mate messaged me later to say thanks for coming. He ended with a “I heard you met x”.

Thankfully I know he would find this funny. But why me?!!! Maybe it was just an awkward conversation.


Longer ago. A meeting is even worse than a funeral in my book. Work relationships are just not a thing for me. Wonderful that others have met their ‘one’ at work. I just never touch work people. Its like a rule in life.

At the end of a meeting a man who was probably a good 15 – 20 years older than me asked me to go for coffee. My first response was if you want a coffee I’ll go make you one. His response was awkwardly “no….would you like to go for a coffee”. Eh? Stop! Oh shit!!! He repeated this a few times before the penny dropped.

Whilst the penny was dropping he obviously decided he needed to be direct. He said he was asking me out.

My response was equally obvious. “No”! I repeated this a few times before the penny dropped with him. The worst and most funny thing about this was that he actually asked me why I said no. WTF! So in an equally funny and not funny way I said that he was not my type, that he was far too old for me, and I would never want to date him. No point at that point of trying to be subtle.

Having missed out the unattractive comment that was on the tip of my tong I thought I did well. He said “Oh well…I am glad I asked”. I, for the record, wasn’t.

On my return from the meeting a colleague noticed my ghostly white and pretty shocked face. He took me aside to make sure I was ok. I told him about the incident. The only (and best response) he could give was to actually roll on the floor laughing whilst trying to belt out Dionne Warrick’s ‘heartbreaker’. Git! Funny git though. Whenever I see him he still sings this.

Just the two

I have more. Not in a – I get chatted up lots way. Just in a.. that was a bloody awkward and hilarious situation in life. Actually if I do get chatted up more I wouldn’t notice it. Going back to my original question, how do you know!!?

Missing Fish Slice

That is not a photo of my cooker, my one is more normal looking. It is now official that no one should let me near to any cooker including my own. Hobs I am fine with but the oven though always creates a disaster. This disaster involved a missing fish slice.

As a (very long) side note I am not a 100% sure that is what you call it. I sometimes call it a spatula but realise this may be a baking implement. It was a plastic one, not a metal one but I still think it should be called a fish slice. Oh gawd – yes I am an adult. I am over 40 and I am still rubbish at anything cooking related. To be honest it is a failing in life I couldn’t care less about.

It would help if I was in a relationship with a chef. Although I dated one once and am convinced he dumped me for my disinterest in anything cooking related unless it involved eating his food. That sentence could have ended completely differently but I should also note a rising (stick that word at the end and it also applies!) disinterest in him….I would have dumped him if he hadn’t done it first. Just saying.


I lost my fish slice a fee weeks ago. I found this fact really perplexing. Where can a fish slice go?! I spent numerous occassions pondering this. My kitchen is small. My flat is not massive. I didn’t (I was pretty sure) take it out the kitchen. Why would I? Despite this logic I searched a bit around the rest of my house before giving up due to the impending doom of insanity at my actions. How would I explain this one to any psychiatrist when they took me away.

So I gave up searching and assumed it was lost with no explanation. I logically put this in the ‘oh well’ category of life’s little mysteries.

Until…. I used my oven. A rare event (did you read my baking post) and one that usually involves disaster. Due to an even more rare event as I do weirdly eat pretty clean (just involving hob things). A pre-packed meal. I was tired and needed macaroni so in to the oven went the supermarket meal.

The macaroni was good. Moorish and just what I needed to refuel. The oven however seemed a little off. It was a bit smokey. I think this happens sometimes. Does it? Does anyone else’s oven smoke a little on occasion? Is that a cooking thing?

On investigation I found something unusual. A blob of what looked like plastic. On inspection of the said blob I couldn’t figure it out (honestly I am really quite sharp minded at work!). After dinner and a bit of sofa chilling realisation struck. It was that bloody fish slice. Back I went and found the slice bit of the fish slice at the back of the oven. It must have just been the handle that melted.

Why I put my fish slice in the oven is a mystery. Why I didn’t take it out is another one. But I now just think that there is a really good way to avoid any repeat of this. Just don’t use the oven. Ever. Not even 6/7 times a year. So I am now done with the oven and have bought a new fish slice. If. Big if…I ever leave it in the oven again this one is metal 🙂

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Big Spiders

When it starts getting colder we seem to start seeing more of these furry, frightening, fearsome fiends. I am trying not to swear but they are bloody massive. This post might give you some tips to deal with them. Disclaimer – nothing actually works (according to me). However bash on and give the advice a try.

Don’t be scared of the spiders

I read one of those sanctimonious posts on Facebook the other day. It said that spiders in autumn were just looking for somewhere cosy to stay. That they wouldn’t eat you and that they wouldn’t have spider babies that would overrun your home.

No! According to this rubbish bit of information spiders just camp out for a bit and then head on back into the big wide world in spring.

What an absolute load of bollocks. I found myself nodding along initially. Thinking ‘awww the poor wee things’, they just want to be in the warm. Then I faced the reality of my reaction every single time I see one in my house. A reaction I had this week when trying to take a relaxing candlelit bath.

Spiders will eat you…possibly

I saw the spider. It was on the side of the bath (outside bit). By the time I spotted said furry fiend it was too late. I was in the bath and spider removals require cardboard, a glass and at least a little bit of clothing to get them as far away from my flat as possible. So I ignored the spider with some logical thinking. It was hardly likely to get in the bath with me.

All going well. Hair washed. Relaxing done. I grabbed a towel and started to dry myself. Then boom! The spider was on the towel! I’m not a screamer. But these situations call for screaming. Until you realise that the screaming is pointless.

The spider was already flung into some corner of the room. Which is fine…except…I couldn’t see where it went. So for the rest of the night I still had to cope (no screaming involved) with the fact that the bloody great big spider was still hanging out in my house. It’s now two days later and I still have no clue where it is.

Some absolutely rubbish advice

The results of any google search on this topic are somewhat dubious. Hence my lack of belief in any action other than the catch and chuck out method. But here they are anyway. If these work for you please let me know. I might think you are slightly mental but I will be impressed with the commitment.

  • Vinegar and Water spray
    • Apparently you find the cracks where they get in and just spray them. Why I don’t know. But advice also warns you that this may be an issue for any surface as vinegar might damage it. I would be more concerned at the smell.
  • Oil (peppermint)
    • Again find the cracks and spray. I should say here that anyone who knows where the spiders get in is spending far too long staring at walls.
  • Citrus or a Cat
    • Just not together as cats don’t like citrus. I used to have a cat. She ran from spiders too.
  • Conkers
    • The only one I actually believe with no logical reason as to why. Especially considering the only place I know where to get these is in the woods. The woods are surely where there are millions of spiders. Hmmmm.
  • Cleaning
    • I seriously question this advice. It is only for folk who like cleaning. I don’t.

When nothing else works just tell em!

I’m sorry spider population of Edinburgh. If you are cold please head on to the next flat. I don’t need any spider mates. I certainly don’t want to eat any of you whilst sleeping. Did I say above how much I find spiders super scary? If not I hope you got the point.

Photo by Егор Камелев

Yoga Pants Disaster: Nearly

We all need good workout bottoms / pants / leggings right? If you are like me and your backside goes through phases of expanding and decreasing (woohoo the latter for me right now), then getting the right pair is important. This week my favourite yoga pants failed me…but it wasn’t as disastrous as it could have been.

Near Miss

I got back from class on Thursday. A pretty tough vinyasa. Heading straight to the shower I peeled off my yoga pants only to find a hole in them. Yep…a hole! Pants! Quite literally. This hole was in the worst place possible especially since my choice of actual pants that evening were, shall we say, brighter than my black yoga pants.

So back on they went; I spent about the next ten minutes sticking my backside in the air whilst trying to ascertain if I could see anything through them in the mirror. Basically a second workout.

I don’t know why I bothered. If someone had seen my pants (which is unlikely when the whole class is in down dog) they never shouted out ‘you’ve got pink pants on’. A quick memory scan and, nope, my yoga teacher never giggled at any stage whilst passing me.

A review of the hole…it was tiny. But it was along the seam of my backside and so unfortunately my yoga pants, my favourite ones, are now relegated to the ‘only when doing hiit sessions at home’ pile.

How do you replace your favourite yoga pants?

I spent the rest of the evening looking at new yoga pants (yes I have already failed in my Second Hand September). My conclusion. Far too many to choose from and prices vary wildly.

I looked at the branded Lululemon and Sweaty Betty ones. Whilst lovely they are really expensive with my favourite ones in each coming in at £108 and £85 respectively. Who pays that for yoga pants!? Ok quite possibly me but it was a Christmas present for my sister last year. I’ll need to check with her how they are holding up. Maybe they are worth the money, they are lovely.

I also looked at the Dharmabums one. The brand (not affiliated in any way) has aims consistent with sustainability and recycling. Great! But still around the £50 mark. I don’t mind this price tag as much but my favourite yoga pants where plain black, high waisted and with a lovely feel to them. Not too thick but not thin enough to worry about the see through thing that sometimes happens with yoga pants. I am not sure this makes sense but I kind of get the price tag with the patterned ones. I just don’t fancy buying patterned yoga pants until I get my body into that sculpted goddess type shape (I may never buy patterned yoga pants).

Yes I bought the exact same ones

This might sound mad…given they got a hole in them…but I replaced them with exactly the same brand and style. Why? Well loads of reasons.

My yoga pants were only £19.95. They have lasted a year. I have used them loads. Minus the recent hole, they have been really hard wearing and have withstood a whole lot of yoga. So surely it’s not too mad to get an exact replacement.

When you want the exact same thing it usually involves dissapointment. Brands move on and I often find the thing I want is discontinued (this happened with my favourite Dune loafers). So how pleased was I that these ones were still being sold on Amazon. So my disaster has been averted. I have bought the same ones….again.

I’ll give the link below. I do have an Amazon affiliate account so if you did happen to purchase them via clicking on this image I would get a small commission (if I ever do get some money from this type of thing I would likely buy a second pair…that would probably take years).

The funny thing

I got an email from IUGA today after they were delivered. They must have read my mind as this was a ‘tips and care instructions’ email. Handy, I thought, given my last pair. Maybe not. The instructions advised washing with cold water to avoid break down of performance fabrics. Well this won’t be happening in line with their additional comment that warm water is more effective at cleaning. Yes….I will wash inside out and not alongside rough denims etc. But I won’t accept point 4 on the email which was not to use fabric softener. Apparently it contributes to losing the wicking property over time (whatever that means) and “also causes a nasty lingering odour to develop”. Eh?!!

Yes I did go and sniff my old pair (not in a weird way…in a testing out the point way). No there wasn’t a nasty odour (thankfully!). The only thing worse than having a hole in your yoga pants at yoga class would be a nasty odour. At just under £20 I will take my chances on them lasting a year whilst not following the advice. Do the dearer ones give you this kind of advice?

Anyway…now I am back in my ‘favourite’ yoga pants I can breath easy again…whilst also feeling suitably comfy and sculpted :-).