Well, my body has an endless capacity to surprise (and disappoint) me.
I've just got back from another scan. The two follicles on my left ovary have grown to 18mm and 19mm. The two on the right (the third little one we saw on Saturday wasn't really visible at all) are stubbornly stuck at 10mm. As they haven't grown at all since Saturday, it looks as though the egg count we're looking at is two.
Given that the ones on the left are pretty much ready and the ones on the right don't seem to be growing, Nurse Perfect decided we might as well go ahead with egg collection on Wednesday. That's right - we were aiming for next Monday or possibly this Friday, and it now turns out that I'll be doing my trigger injection at 3:15 tomorrow morning and then going in for egg collection the day after tomorrow. I just hope DH can get the time off work at such short notice - he's on his way to work at the moment, so he doesn't know yet.
I'm kind of gutted that we might only get two eggs. On the plus side, that would be a whole lot better than none at all. And if they both fertilise, that's all we need. But I don't like the odds. Last time we had six eggs, of which five were suitable for injection, three fertilised and only two survived to transfer. That's a survival-to-transfer rate of one in three, and if we don't even get three eggs this time...
Well, let's just say I'm going to be doing an awful lot of praying over the next 48 hours. And probably also a lot of talking to my right ovary to try to persuade it to pull its finger out and start growing those follicles.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Birthday banquet
Well, I think DH enjoyed his birthday meal. Because we had some meat-eaters and some vegetarians coming, I'd decided to do a Chinese meal so that they could easily pick and choose which dishes they ate from.
During the afternoon I chopped, sliced and diced, until every surface in the kitchen looked like this.
During the afternoon I chopped, sliced and diced, until every surface in the kitchen looked like this.
I also made a chocolate birthday cake - it collapsed a bit in the middle, but nobody seemed to be complaining.
And I made DH's favourite pudding - a trifle. I don't know if you can tell from the photo, but the sprinkles on top are in the shape of dinosaurs - a little reference to the fact that he's seven years older than me.
And I made DH's favourite pudding - a trifle. I don't know if you can tell from the photo, but the sprinkles on top are in the shape of dinosaurs - a little reference to the fact that he's seven years older than me.
This is what the table looked like before we started. For starters, we had sliced tomato, marinated cucumber, and prawn crackers.
After we'd eaten all ten dishes and before I cleared away for pudding, this is what the table looked like - not too many leftovers, which is always good to see.
It was a great evening with some lovely friends, and now we're looking forward to taking the remains of the cake and spending some time with DH's parents. I must say, though, that I'm looking forward even more to getting home this evening and putting my feet up for a couple of hours...
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Progress
This morning's appointment went well. I have two 11mm follicles on the left, one 10mm on the right and two smaller ones coming up behind on the right. Hopefully that'll be enough...
I had my massive Cetrotide injection. Remember what happened last time? If anything, the swelling this time is bigger, and while I was walking round the supermarket picking up ingredients for tonight's feast, I was really wishing my trousers were considerably looser.
Still, we're moving forward, and I've now changed out of my bloodstained t-shirt (the injection site obviously bled for a little while...) and must start cooking.
I had my massive Cetrotide injection. Remember what happened last time? If anything, the swelling this time is bigger, and while I was walking round the supermarket picking up ingredients for tonight's feast, I was really wishing my trousers were considerably looser.
Still, we're moving forward, and I've now changed out of my bloodstained t-shirt (the injection site obviously bled for a little while...) and must start cooking.
Feeling like the Seven Dwarfs
... well, some of the originals and some of their mates. After only two (rhinoceros) doses of Gonal-F, I am now Sleepy, Grumpy, Spotty, Bloated, Sweaty, Weepy and Psycho.
And here's our schedule for the next few days.
Today I have to get to the clinic by 8:15 for a scan, then drop DH off for his first driving lesson (in a simulator so he can get used to the controls before having to worry about dealing with other traffic - I'm so excited that he's finally got round to booking it), do a whole load of shopping, pick DH up again, spend the afternoon peeling, chopping, slicing and dicing, make DH's birthday cake, wrap his presents, cook a meal for the six people who are coming round for dinner this evening, and then collapse into bed hopefully some time before midnight.
Tomorrow is DH's actual birthday, so I'll make him breakfast in the morning and give him his presents. Then we'll go to Mass and go straight from there to pick his parents up (20-odd miles away) and take them out to a restaurant for lunch. Back to their house for tea and cake (must remember to take the cake with us), then home in time to do my jab and collapse for the evening.
Monday - scan very early in the morning, followed by acupuncture, then a two hour drive to go to my best friend's mother-in-law's funeral, go to the wake afterwards and try to speak wise words to my goddaughter, who is apparently distraught at the loss of her grandmother, then two hour drive home in time to do my jab and collapse for the evening.
And then five days' work in four days over the rest of the week, as I don't have enough holiday left to take Monday as holiday.
And all this in the company of the New Improved Seven Dwarfs.
Well, at least I won't have time to sit around obsessing about whether this treatment's going to work...
And here's our schedule for the next few days.
Today I have to get to the clinic by 8:15 for a scan, then drop DH off for his first driving lesson (in a simulator so he can get used to the controls before having to worry about dealing with other traffic - I'm so excited that he's finally got round to booking it), do a whole load of shopping, pick DH up again, spend the afternoon peeling, chopping, slicing and dicing, make DH's birthday cake, wrap his presents, cook a meal for the six people who are coming round for dinner this evening, and then collapse into bed hopefully some time before midnight.
Tomorrow is DH's actual birthday, so I'll make him breakfast in the morning and give him his presents. Then we'll go to Mass and go straight from there to pick his parents up (20-odd miles away) and take them out to a restaurant for lunch. Back to their house for tea and cake (must remember to take the cake with us), then home in time to do my jab and collapse for the evening.
Monday - scan very early in the morning, followed by acupuncture, then a two hour drive to go to my best friend's mother-in-law's funeral, go to the wake afterwards and try to speak wise words to my goddaughter, who is apparently distraught at the loss of her grandmother, then two hour drive home in time to do my jab and collapse for the evening.
And then five days' work in four days over the rest of the week, as I don't have enough holiday left to take Monday as holiday.
And all this in the company of the New Improved Seven Dwarfs.
Well, at least I won't have time to sit around obsessing about whether this treatment's going to work...
Friday, 27 November 2009
Ah yes, now I remember...
The chief effect of Gonal-F
Is bringing on a mini-death.
The next few weeks I'll sleep and sleep
And in between I'll rant and weep.
Normality - it was good while it lasted. It took the first dose of Gonal-F precisely two and three quarter hours to remind me of the overwhelming sensation from the last IVF cycle.
Exhaustion.
Wake me up when it's all over...
Is bringing on a mini-death.
The next few weeks I'll sleep and sleep
And in between I'll rant and weep.
Normality - it was good while it lasted. It took the first dose of Gonal-F precisely two and three quarter hours to remind me of the overwhelming sensation from the last IVF cycle.
Exhaustion.
Wake me up when it's all over...
Thursday, 26 November 2009
Giving thanks
Happy Thanksgiving to all those of you who are celebrating!
We don't have a Thanksgiving holiday over here, either now or at any other time, but I think it's a wonderful holiday, so I'm taking it as a chance to reflect on some of the things that I have to be thankful for at the moment.
First, I'm thankful for my husband. I'd given up on ever finding someone to share my life with when I met him, and now I can't imagine my life without him in it. He is sweet, loving, hugely knowledgeable, totally undomesticated, and the more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him.
Second, I'm thankful that I have such a wonderful family and friends. They're a blessing in two ways - firstly, in the love and support that all of them give me, in good times and in bad. And secondly, even if DH and I end up never having children of our own, I have nephews, nieces and godchildren that I'm very close to. I still get to go to nursery school nativity plays, I still get the notes in wobbly five-year-old handwriting that say "I love you", and I still get the hugs from tiny little arms and the text messages from bored teenagers.
Third, I'm thankful that I live in an age and in a country where I have central heating, an automatic washing-machine, hot and cold running water and a reliable electricity supply. I spent several years in my twenties living without any of those things, and it made me realise what a luxury they are.
Fourth, I'm thankful that I live in an age where infertility is something that can be diagnosed and discussed. I can't imagine how hard it would have been just to keep trying and hoping as we were, month after month after month, until I went through the menopause and realised that it was all over. To know what the problem is and to have a chance, however slim, of overcoming that problem with the help of technology is a wonderful thing.
Fifth, I'm thankful for the internet. I'm hugely grateful for the connections that it creates between people on opposite sides of the world who are going through similar experiences and are able to realise that they're not alone and offer each other advice and support.
Equally, I'm grateful for the contact that it gives me with my own family. Only a century ago, if a member of your family emigrated to the other side of the world, you might have expected never to see them again. Two hundred years ago, it would literally take weeks even to exchange correspondence with them, and you could have nephews and nieces, or even grandchildren, that you never even knew about.
Now, I almost take it for granted that I can pick up the phone and talk to family in the US and South Africa. When each of my nieces and nephews was born, on three different continents, I was able to see photos of them the day they were born. And my youngest American nephews even think it's perfectly normal to be able to chat to us live through the computer screen and show us what toys they're playing with and what pictures they've just drawn, thanks to Skype.
Sixth, I'm thankful that I have a good job and a (reasonably) good work ethic and am able to earn enough money to be comfortable and enjoy all of these things. People who think money isn't important have obviously never been short of it, and I'm grateful that DH and I are not hugely extravagant and that we have built up enough savings to be able to make certain decisions without money being a major factor in those decisions.
And finally, because I have to stop somewhere, tonight I'll be doing my first jab of this second ICSI cycle, and I'll be thankful that the needle isn't bigger, and that I'm not needle phobic!
We don't have a Thanksgiving holiday over here, either now or at any other time, but I think it's a wonderful holiday, so I'm taking it as a chance to reflect on some of the things that I have to be thankful for at the moment.
First, I'm thankful for my husband. I'd given up on ever finding someone to share my life with when I met him, and now I can't imagine my life without him in it. He is sweet, loving, hugely knowledgeable, totally undomesticated, and the more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him.
Second, I'm thankful that I have such a wonderful family and friends. They're a blessing in two ways - firstly, in the love and support that all of them give me, in good times and in bad. And secondly, even if DH and I end up never having children of our own, I have nephews, nieces and godchildren that I'm very close to. I still get to go to nursery school nativity plays, I still get the notes in wobbly five-year-old handwriting that say "I love you", and I still get the hugs from tiny little arms and the text messages from bored teenagers.
Third, I'm thankful that I live in an age and in a country where I have central heating, an automatic washing-machine, hot and cold running water and a reliable electricity supply. I spent several years in my twenties living without any of those things, and it made me realise what a luxury they are.
Fourth, I'm thankful that I live in an age where infertility is something that can be diagnosed and discussed. I can't imagine how hard it would have been just to keep trying and hoping as we were, month after month after month, until I went through the menopause and realised that it was all over. To know what the problem is and to have a chance, however slim, of overcoming that problem with the help of technology is a wonderful thing.
Fifth, I'm thankful for the internet. I'm hugely grateful for the connections that it creates between people on opposite sides of the world who are going through similar experiences and are able to realise that they're not alone and offer each other advice and support.
Equally, I'm grateful for the contact that it gives me with my own family. Only a century ago, if a member of your family emigrated to the other side of the world, you might have expected never to see them again. Two hundred years ago, it would literally take weeks even to exchange correspondence with them, and you could have nephews and nieces, or even grandchildren, that you never even knew about.
Now, I almost take it for granted that I can pick up the phone and talk to family in the US and South Africa. When each of my nieces and nephews was born, on three different continents, I was able to see photos of them the day they were born. And my youngest American nephews even think it's perfectly normal to be able to chat to us live through the computer screen and show us what toys they're playing with and what pictures they've just drawn, thanks to Skype.
Sixth, I'm thankful that I have a good job and a (reasonably) good work ethic and am able to earn enough money to be comfortable and enjoy all of these things. People who think money isn't important have obviously never been short of it, and I'm grateful that DH and I are not hugely extravagant and that we have built up enough savings to be able to make certain decisions without money being a major factor in those decisions.
And finally, because I have to stop somewhere, tonight I'll be doing my first jab of this second ICSI cycle, and I'll be thankful that the needle isn't bigger, and that I'm not needle phobic!
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
At the starting gates
Thank you so much for all your good luck messages - they really meant a lot. Also, before I get started on my news, CONGRATULATIONS to Sonja, who got her BFP yesterday. I'm so chuffed for her - she has been so supportive to me while going through the most horrible experience in her first IVF cycle, and I couldn't be more pleased that her second cycle has been so successful. And of course, it also gives me hope that a BFP is possible even without perfect-looking embryos.
I went down to the hospital with some trepidation this morning, as I've had some twinges in my left ovary and was afraid there might be another cyst. I couldn't stand the thought of having to wait until after Christmas, especially as I would have been in exactly the same position that I was in when I had the cyst in September, where the lost time was the time that would have fitted in perfectly with work and once my body was ready to co-operate, work would have kicked off again.
Anyway, Nurse Perfect said my lining was coming away nicely and both ovaries were looking good. She could see the beginnings of two or three follicles on the left ovary, and although the right ovary was looking quieter, it also had the possible beginnings of a couple of follicles.
Technically, they count today as CD2, so she told me to start my injections tomorrow. I then picked up my SIX boxes of Gonal-F (a snip at £110 a box - I hope my family don't expect any Christmas presents) and set up my monitoring appointments - the first one will be on Saturday morning.
So now I need to ring my acupuncturist and see if I can get some appointments set up with him, and then tonight DH and I need to fill in all the forms again. There seems to be a new HFEA form since October, so that'll be a bit of excitement for us...
I still don't know how I feel about this cycle. I'm approaching it very differently - for a start, I haven't yet told my family (apart from one SIL who reads this blog - hi Jeannie!) that we're going ahead, and if I do, it'll probably only be one of my sisters and my parents that I tell. I'm preparing for failure already, and since if we get that far, my official test day is likely to be in Christmas week, I don't want to put a downer on everybody's Christmas.
My colleagues will probably know, as egg collection is likely to be the day of our department Christmas lunch, and they'll want to know why I'm missing it. And some of the neighbours might know, because we need them to witness our signatures on the HFEA forms. But they're not emotionally invested in this the way my family and close friends are, so a BFN for us in Christmas week won't impinge on any of their Christmas celebrations.
I also intend to keep as busy as possible (within reason) and give myself less time to dwell on what's happening. I know what to expect at each stage of the process, so I'll try to stay away from Google and rely on my memory of what I've already read and experienced for myself. And it's pretty easy to keep busy in the run-up to Christmas, so hopefully I won't get as obsessed as I did last time - I don't know if that had any effect on the result, but it certainly affected the emotional impact it had on me and contributed to the total meltdown I had and the difficulty I had picking myself up again afterwards.
So, bring on those horror-moans and let's get started!
I went down to the hospital with some trepidation this morning, as I've had some twinges in my left ovary and was afraid there might be another cyst. I couldn't stand the thought of having to wait until after Christmas, especially as I would have been in exactly the same position that I was in when I had the cyst in September, where the lost time was the time that would have fitted in perfectly with work and once my body was ready to co-operate, work would have kicked off again.
Anyway, Nurse Perfect said my lining was coming away nicely and both ovaries were looking good. She could see the beginnings of two or three follicles on the left ovary, and although the right ovary was looking quieter, it also had the possible beginnings of a couple of follicles.
Technically, they count today as CD2, so she told me to start my injections tomorrow. I then picked up my SIX boxes of Gonal-F (a snip at £110 a box - I hope my family don't expect any Christmas presents) and set up my monitoring appointments - the first one will be on Saturday morning.
So now I need to ring my acupuncturist and see if I can get some appointments set up with him, and then tonight DH and I need to fill in all the forms again. There seems to be a new HFEA form since October, so that'll be a bit of excitement for us...
I still don't know how I feel about this cycle. I'm approaching it very differently - for a start, I haven't yet told my family (apart from one SIL who reads this blog - hi Jeannie!) that we're going ahead, and if I do, it'll probably only be one of my sisters and my parents that I tell. I'm preparing for failure already, and since if we get that far, my official test day is likely to be in Christmas week, I don't want to put a downer on everybody's Christmas.
My colleagues will probably know, as egg collection is likely to be the day of our department Christmas lunch, and they'll want to know why I'm missing it. And some of the neighbours might know, because we need them to witness our signatures on the HFEA forms. But they're not emotionally invested in this the way my family and close friends are, so a BFN for us in Christmas week won't impinge on any of their Christmas celebrations.
I also intend to keep as busy as possible (within reason) and give myself less time to dwell on what's happening. I know what to expect at each stage of the process, so I'll try to stay away from Google and rely on my memory of what I've already read and experienced for myself. And it's pretty easy to keep busy in the run-up to Christmas, so hopefully I won't get as obsessed as I did last time - I don't know if that had any effect on the result, but it certainly affected the emotional impact it had on me and contributed to the total meltdown I had and the difficulty I had picking myself up again afterwards.
So, bring on those horror-moans and let's get started!
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Sorry Mother...
... I know you had high hopes, but I can now confirm that spending lots of time creating our own entertainment in our hotel room while we were on holiday has NOT resulted in a miracle pregnancy, despite the fact that we were totally relaxed, I was ovulating and all other environmental factors were as near perfect as they could be. Crappy eggs and sperm are crappy eggs and sperm however relaxed you are.
If AF arrives after noon, my clinic counts CD1 as the following day, so as AF turned up yesterday afternoon, today is CD1. I rang the clinic yesterday and spoke to Nurse Perfect, who booked me in for my baseline scan tomorrow morning. I'm hoping that in 24 hours I'll be germ-free, cyst-free and able to make a start on ICSI #2.
Wish me luck...
If AF arrives after noon, my clinic counts CD1 as the following day, so as AF turned up yesterday afternoon, today is CD1. I rang the clinic yesterday and spoke to Nurse Perfect, who booked me in for my baseline scan tomorrow morning. I'm hoping that in 24 hours I'll be germ-free, cyst-free and able to make a start on ICSI #2.
Wish me luck...
Monday, 23 November 2009
Sick
I hope DH has learnt something in the last week. It turned out that he didn't have Man Flu after all - he had a tummy bug. In case I look totally heartless here, I should point out that while this bug made him feel pretty miserable and do an awful lot of moaning and whining, it was never bad enough to incapacitate him - he never even suggested that he was too sick to go to work.
What I hope he has learnt is that when you don't live alone, you have a responsibility to maintain a level of hygiene when you're not well that bachelors apparently don't aspire to. Things like cleaning up after yourself and not "leaving it till later" (which when you no longer live in a bachelor pad becomes a euphemism for "leaving it for the wife to clean up" - particularly when you abandon it to go off to work and the wife is working from home that day).
I just wish his learning process didn't involve me getting sick. Especially when AF is imminent and if we aren't able to get started on this cycle we'll have to wait until after Christmas. I really hope this bug is out of my system by the time I have to book my baseline scan, because unlike him, I'm unwilling to risk passing it on to other people if I can help it. And if this cycle has to be cancelled because of it, I'll find it very difficult not to resent him over the next couple of months of waiting.
What I hope he has learnt is that when you don't live alone, you have a responsibility to maintain a level of hygiene when you're not well that bachelors apparently don't aspire to. Things like cleaning up after yourself and not "leaving it till later" (which when you no longer live in a bachelor pad becomes a euphemism for "leaving it for the wife to clean up" - particularly when you abandon it to go off to work and the wife is working from home that day).
I just wish his learning process didn't involve me getting sick. Especially when AF is imminent and if we aren't able to get started on this cycle we'll have to wait until after Christmas. I really hope this bug is out of my system by the time I have to book my baseline scan, because unlike him, I'm unwilling to risk passing it on to other people if I can help it. And if this cycle has to be cancelled because of it, I'll find it very difficult not to resent him over the next couple of months of waiting.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Making insomnia more fun
Insomnia Hour has been a regular feature of life for me for quite a while now, but last night I tried out my latest weapon against it. When it's under your pillow, you actually have to be lying with your head on the pillow to be able to hear it. I can't even hear it if I turn over in bed and move my ear away from where the speaker is - which means that DH should never be disturbed by it. And it doesn't feel lumpy under the pillow - in fact, I don't really notice it at all, which I suppose proves that I'm not a real princess.
One of the things that makes Insomnia Hour such a nightmare is when I get tense about irritating noises - DH snoring (fortunately, he's recovered from the Man Flu of earlier this week, so the moaning and "oooooh deeee-ar"s seem to have stopped for the moment), the rain cascading off the back roof in a torrent because part of our gutter blew away last week and I haven't fixed it yet, the loose tile on the dormer at the front flapping in the wind...
I also need something to take my mind off the thoughts that intrude in the middle of the night when it's dark and still, especially when I've woken from a disturbing dream. My subconscious seems to be particularly active at the moment, and although as soon as I wake up I know that it was just a dream, the panicky feeling often remains behind.
So being able to turn on my iPod last night and listen to a bit of mindless music to switch off the tenseness and the irritating thoughts without either getting tangled up with my earphones or disturbing DH was wonderful. It didn't cure the insomnia, but it certainly made it a whole lot more enjoyable.
One of the things that makes Insomnia Hour such a nightmare is when I get tense about irritating noises - DH snoring (fortunately, he's recovered from the Man Flu of earlier this week, so the moaning and "oooooh deeee-ar"s seem to have stopped for the moment), the rain cascading off the back roof in a torrent because part of our gutter blew away last week and I haven't fixed it yet, the loose tile on the dormer at the front flapping in the wind...
I also need something to take my mind off the thoughts that intrude in the middle of the night when it's dark and still, especially when I've woken from a disturbing dream. My subconscious seems to be particularly active at the moment, and although as soon as I wake up I know that it was just a dream, the panicky feeling often remains behind.
So being able to turn on my iPod last night and listen to a bit of mindless music to switch off the tenseness and the irritating thoughts without either getting tangled up with my earphones or disturbing DH was wonderful. It didn't cure the insomnia, but it certainly made it a whole lot more enjoyable.
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Lightbulb jokes
I've always enjoyed the series of lightbulb jokes - you know the ones, things like:
How many hippies does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Five - one to change the lightbulb and four to sit in a circle with a guitar and sing about how good the old one was.
How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Just one - but the lightbulb must really want to change.
How many husbands does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Only one, but it takes him three weekends and two trips to the hardware store.
How many surgeons does it take to change a lightbulb?
- None - they'd wait for a suitable donor and do a filament transplant.
How many computer programmers does it take to change a lightbulb?
- None - this is a hardware problem.
How many Englishmen does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Change it? What do you mean, change it? It's a perfectly good lightbulb - we've had it for 1,000 years and nobody has ever complained before.
How many members of the government does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
- None - they're too busy screwing the electorate.
And this week I discovered that we have our very own version of the joke:
How many infertile couples does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
(I'll put the answer in the comments box - but feel free to add your own answer if you have a good one.)
How many hippies does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Five - one to change the lightbulb and four to sit in a circle with a guitar and sing about how good the old one was.
How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Just one - but the lightbulb must really want to change.
How many husbands does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Only one, but it takes him three weekends and two trips to the hardware store.
How many surgeons does it take to change a lightbulb?
- None - they'd wait for a suitable donor and do a filament transplant.
How many computer programmers does it take to change a lightbulb?
- None - this is a hardware problem.
How many Englishmen does it take to change a lightbulb?
- Change it? What do you mean, change it? It's a perfectly good lightbulb - we've had it for 1,000 years and nobody has ever complained before.
How many members of the government does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
- None - they're too busy screwing the electorate.
And this week I discovered that we have our very own version of the joke:
How many infertile couples does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
(I'll put the answer in the comments box - but feel free to add your own answer if you have a good one.)
Friday, 20 November 2009
My husband understands nothing
Some time ago (approximately nine months ago, in fact), I was firmly convinced that I was pregnant. I had loads of symptoms, and I just 'knew' there was something different. I hadn't started charting my temperatures yet, so I didn't realise that I'd probably ovulated a day or two late - and when my AF was a day or two later than it had ever been before, I got very very excited about having a November baby.
I had a cycle buddy on the TTC board I was on - she was a couple of days ahead of me, and when she got her BFP we both looked forward to graduating to the 'Due in November' board together. We had both been trying for several months and had got to know each other quite well, always responding to each other's posts and giving each other support during 2WW after 2WW. (After she got her BFP, I never heard from her again - we're both still on the site, but I've been left behind and that's it. I know it shouldn't matter - I never even met her in real life - but somehow it did, and does.)
The day my AF showed up was the day DH came home from work and announced that his colleague had just found out his wife was pregnant. He went on and on about how excited this guy was, what great news it was, and how they'd had doughnuts in the office to celebrate.
When I finally got a word in, I snapped, "Well, that's nice for them. I'm NOT pregnant."
Every time he's mentioned this guy over the last nine months, he's talked about how excited the guy is about the baby. And every time, I've gently reminded him that I had hoped to be having a baby at the same time, and that that month my period was late was the month that I had the highest hopes that I had been successful (with the sub-text: "Please don't keep rubbing my face in it and reminding me about this pregnancy that I have no reason to know about but which happens to remind me of one of my biggest disappointments").
So why oh why oh why oh why did he forward the birth announcement to me from work yesterday, complete with not one, not two but THREE photos of the beautiful new baby of two people I've never met?
He really has no idea sometimes, and with this coming on top of a couple of things that have happened in the last couple of days that will remain between him and me but have staggered me in their selfishness and lack of consideration for me, he's got some serious apologising to do over the weekend.
I had a cycle buddy on the TTC board I was on - she was a couple of days ahead of me, and when she got her BFP we both looked forward to graduating to the 'Due in November' board together. We had both been trying for several months and had got to know each other quite well, always responding to each other's posts and giving each other support during 2WW after 2WW. (After she got her BFP, I never heard from her again - we're both still on the site, but I've been left behind and that's it. I know it shouldn't matter - I never even met her in real life - but somehow it did, and does.)
The day my AF showed up was the day DH came home from work and announced that his colleague had just found out his wife was pregnant. He went on and on about how excited this guy was, what great news it was, and how they'd had doughnuts in the office to celebrate.
When I finally got a word in, I snapped, "Well, that's nice for them. I'm NOT pregnant."
Every time he's mentioned this guy over the last nine months, he's talked about how excited the guy is about the baby. And every time, I've gently reminded him that I had hoped to be having a baby at the same time, and that that month my period was late was the month that I had the highest hopes that I had been successful (with the sub-text: "Please don't keep rubbing my face in it and reminding me about this pregnancy that I have no reason to know about but which happens to remind me of one of my biggest disappointments").
So why oh why oh why oh why did he forward the birth announcement to me from work yesterday, complete with not one, not two but THREE photos of the beautiful new baby of two people I've never met?
He really has no idea sometimes, and with this coming on top of a couple of things that have happened in the last couple of days that will remain between him and me but have staggered me in their selfishness and lack of consideration for me, he's got some serious apologising to do over the weekend.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Man Flu
What is it with men and colds? DH has an ever-so-slight sniffle, and you'd think the world was about to end. I told him last night that he's feeling so sorry for himself that there's really no room for anybody else to feel sorry for him.
Plus, if I was feeling as ill as he says he is, I would do something constructive like go to bed early and try to sleep it off - in fact, I would almost certainly be forced to go to bed early because I just wouldn't be able to stay upright. He, on the other hand, blew off some friends of ours for a long-standing arrangement we had because he reckoned he was too ill to go out - but when I got home at 10:30, he was still up watching the football (and forgetting to moan and groan until it was over and he'd turned the telly off).
And when he told me he wasn't going to come out with me yesterday evening and made big soulful eyes at me as he softly moaned, "I'm sorry to be so much trouble", it just made me laugh. I slept in the spare room last night, because I know from experience that when he wakes me up by moaning and groaning and occasionally muttering, "Ooooooooh deeeee-ar", it just makes me want to smother him with a pillow.
I know, I'm a heartless wife. But when the man has Man Flu, it's the woman who really suffers.
Plus, if I was feeling as ill as he says he is, I would do something constructive like go to bed early and try to sleep it off - in fact, I would almost certainly be forced to go to bed early because I just wouldn't be able to stay upright. He, on the other hand, blew off some friends of ours for a long-standing arrangement we had because he reckoned he was too ill to go out - but when I got home at 10:30, he was still up watching the football (and forgetting to moan and groan until it was over and he'd turned the telly off).
And when he told me he wasn't going to come out with me yesterday evening and made big soulful eyes at me as he softly moaned, "I'm sorry to be so much trouble", it just made me laugh. I slept in the spare room last night, because I know from experience that when he wakes me up by moaning and groaning and occasionally muttering, "Ooooooooh deeeee-ar", it just makes me want to smother him with a pillow.
I know, I'm a heartless wife. But when the man has Man Flu, it's the woman who really suffers.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Underwater shots
I was quite pleased with my new camera - it's a lot less bulky than the Intova and so slips very easily into a pocket or handbag. The zoom is perfectly adequate for the sort of holiday we were on, though I would have missed my Canon if we'd been doing any serious sightseeing.
The LCD screen is much better than the one on the Intova, and I really was able to see it quite well even in sunlight. It took a little bit of getting used to underwater, but the main frustration was that the screen dims after a few seconds with no buttons being pressed to save power, and if you're following a fish and trying to focus on it, you can get quite frustrated when the picture on the screen disappears at the crucial moment.
Once I was used to it, though, the main problem was that the fish wouldn't necessarily sit still and pose for me!
The LCD screen is much better than the one on the Intova, and I really was able to see it quite well even in sunlight. It took a little bit of getting used to underwater, but the main frustration was that the screen dims after a few seconds with no buttons being pressed to save power, and if you're following a fish and trying to focus on it, you can get quite frustrated when the picture on the screen disappears at the crucial moment.
Once I was used to it, though, the main problem was that the fish wouldn't necessarily sit still and pose for me!
Although a lot of the scenery reminded me of Hawai'i (another volcanic island with beautiful blue sea, where we spent our honeymoon), the fish were nowhere near as bright and colourful - but there were certainly plenty of them. At one point I was swimming amongst a school of fish and some of them started to nibble my toes, which freaked me out a little bit - though at least they weren't piranhas, and I still have the requisite number of digits.
Here are some of my favourite underwater shots from last week.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
A couple of holiday snaps
This was quite possibly the most relaxing holiday I've ever had. We ate lots of delicious salads (and other stuff), took long walks to the beach (which was 45 minutes' stroll away), lounged by the pool, read lots of books and I did a lot of swimming and snorkelling. This picture shows why you would want to stick to designated beaches and not just jump into the water at any point along the coast - though it was much calmer when the wind died down a couple of days into our holiday.
This was the beach we went to. Lanzarote is a volcanic island, and all the beaches have quite a lot of volcanic rock around them, which is great for seeing lots of fish but not quite so great on the feet. This place, once we figured it out, was ideal for us - DH settled down with his book on the rocky side, which was nice and quiet, while I snorkelled and swam, then when we were ready to leave I swam across the cove to the sandy side and met him there.
Being November, the sun never got too high in the sky and it had disappeared behind the hotel building by about 5:00 in the afternoon, after which we went up to our room and ... ummm ... made our own entertainment until it was time to go down for supper.
This was the view from our hotel room balcony. The picture's a little bit of a con, as I zoomed in on the sea and carefully filtered out the fact that between us and what you can see here, there was a car park. Also, to the left of the shot was a building site and to the right was another hotel. The camera's not really lying, though - the sea was the bit that my eyes focused on too!
Other than dressing to go into the hotel restaurant each morning and evening, I lived in a swimming costume, only occasionally putting on a t-shirt. From about the fourth day, I didn't even bother with my shorts when walking to and from the beach - so I don't know how we've managed to come back with such a mountain of washing!
Monday, 16 November 2009
Back to the future
Well, we got back late last night after an absolutely marvellous holiday - I'll show you some pictures later in the week and tell you more about it, but suffice to say that I have the best suntan I can remember having and we spent so much time relaxing in the sun that for the first time ever I ran out of holiday reading material. I also went for the longest I've gone in at least three years without touching a computer (unless you count the blackberry that only deals with my work e-mail - and I only checked that once a day).
This morning we finally had our review appointment with Mr No Nonsense. He said that our embryos weren't actually very good quality and it wasn't a huge surprise that they didn't take - I was a little annoyed about that, as there had been no earlier suggestion that they were anything other than good-looking little chaps. I read upside in the notes he was looking at and saw that they were both Grade 3 - if I'd known that, I might not have had such high hopes and then been let down so badly when it didn't work out.
Anyway, he said that as both my eggs and DH's sperm were pretty rubbish, he didn't think there was anything that could be done differently next time to get a better result. I asked about assisted hatching, and he said they do it quite a lot there and it wouldn't help in our case - it's not that my eggs have hard shells, but just that they're really poor quality. So that made me feel good about myself.
He said they would go along with whatever decision we made, although he did raise the issue of donor eggs. We said that given the low quality of DH's sperm, if we went down the donor route we'd probably go the whole hog and go for embryo adoption, but we weren't really ready to get into that yet.
If we do go for embryo adoption, we would have to go to a clinic abroad, but Mr No Nonsense confirmed that our current clinic could still do the scans and anything else that was needed for any part of the treatment that happened in the UK, which was reassuring.
He said it was a frustrating decision for us to make, as there's a very low chance of success, but not no hope. He put it at about 1 in 10, which is kind of what we were looking at the first time round. We said we still wanted to go ahead, so he sent us off to talk to Nurse Perfect, and as soon as AF shows up (should be the end of next week), I'm to ring her and we'll start the whole rigmarole again.
At the moment, I feel... indifferent is the best word I can think of to describe it. I was so devastated when the first round didn't work, and we've just spent a week basically nursing our mental and emotional wounds and getting ourselves back on an even keel. As I said to DH, I just can't enter into this again with the same hope that I had first time round, but if we don't have hope, what's the point in going through it all again and spending another £6,000 for the same result?
I wonder whether, now that I've got to the point where I'm able to contemplate the very real possibility that we will never be parents without instantly turning into a quivering, blubbering mess, I ought to just accept it and give up on this dream. I'm terrified of failing again and going back to where I was just a couple of weeks ago. But then, I'm also terrified of looking back in the future and regretting that I didn't give it my best shot.
I'm certainly going to approach this round differently - I'll try to be more realistic in my expectations, I'll try not to let it take over my life to the same extent, and I won't be telling as many people that we're actually going through it this time, because if I pretend to myself that it's not really happening, perhaps the reality won't hit me as badly.
So, that's me at the moment - old eggs, crappy sperm, but a great suntan.
Thanks for your visits and comments while we were away - I've read all the comments but not had time to respond or visit any of your blogs yet. I'm off to do that now...
This morning we finally had our review appointment with Mr No Nonsense. He said that our embryos weren't actually very good quality and it wasn't a huge surprise that they didn't take - I was a little annoyed about that, as there had been no earlier suggestion that they were anything other than good-looking little chaps. I read upside in the notes he was looking at and saw that they were both Grade 3 - if I'd known that, I might not have had such high hopes and then been let down so badly when it didn't work out.
Anyway, he said that as both my eggs and DH's sperm were pretty rubbish, he didn't think there was anything that could be done differently next time to get a better result. I asked about assisted hatching, and he said they do it quite a lot there and it wouldn't help in our case - it's not that my eggs have hard shells, but just that they're really poor quality. So that made me feel good about myself.
He said they would go along with whatever decision we made, although he did raise the issue of donor eggs. We said that given the low quality of DH's sperm, if we went down the donor route we'd probably go the whole hog and go for embryo adoption, but we weren't really ready to get into that yet.
If we do go for embryo adoption, we would have to go to a clinic abroad, but Mr No Nonsense confirmed that our current clinic could still do the scans and anything else that was needed for any part of the treatment that happened in the UK, which was reassuring.
He said it was a frustrating decision for us to make, as there's a very low chance of success, but not no hope. He put it at about 1 in 10, which is kind of what we were looking at the first time round. We said we still wanted to go ahead, so he sent us off to talk to Nurse Perfect, and as soon as AF shows up (should be the end of next week), I'm to ring her and we'll start the whole rigmarole again.
At the moment, I feel... indifferent is the best word I can think of to describe it. I was so devastated when the first round didn't work, and we've just spent a week basically nursing our mental and emotional wounds and getting ourselves back on an even keel. As I said to DH, I just can't enter into this again with the same hope that I had first time round, but if we don't have hope, what's the point in going through it all again and spending another £6,000 for the same result?
I wonder whether, now that I've got to the point where I'm able to contemplate the very real possibility that we will never be parents without instantly turning into a quivering, blubbering mess, I ought to just accept it and give up on this dream. I'm terrified of failing again and going back to where I was just a couple of weeks ago. But then, I'm also terrified of looking back in the future and regretting that I didn't give it my best shot.
I'm certainly going to approach this round differently - I'll try to be more realistic in my expectations, I'll try not to let it take over my life to the same extent, and I won't be telling as many people that we're actually going through it this time, because if I pretend to myself that it's not really happening, perhaps the reality won't hit me as badly.
So, that's me at the moment - old eggs, crappy sperm, but a great suntan.
Thanks for your visits and comments while we were away - I've read all the comments but not had time to respond or visit any of your blogs yet. I'm off to do that now...
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Visiting York
I went to university in York, and it's a wonderful place, beautiful and absolutely steeped in history. The main part of the city is still surrounded by the old Roman city walls, and you can walk most of the way round the city on the walls. The gates in the walls are known as Bars, and many of the streets are called Gates. One of the shortest streets in York has one of the longest and most curious names - Whip-ma-whop-ma-gate. In the spring, the slopes at the bottom of the wall are thick with daffodils.
Bettys Tea Rooms is a mini-chain which has six branches across Yorkshire. The main tea room that most people visit is on the corner of St Helens Square, in the main shopping area. It's pleasant enough, but it's a very busy corner and the place has huge windows which make it feel a bit like a goldfish bowl - if you're lucky enough to get a seat on the main floor. It also tends to get very long queues, and at times you have to wait a good while for a table.
The big tip here is that Stonegate, which is a lovely cobbled street leading up from St Helens Square to the Minster (another place that mustn't be missed if you're in the area - and if you can, take a pair of binoculars with you when you go in and don't forget to look up at the ceilings and upper windows), has another branch of the same tea room, called Little Bettys Cafe. This place is a much more unspoiled old building, with the main tea room upstairs. It serves exactly the same things as the main Bettys, but usually has much shorter queues and a better atmosphere.
The Castle Museum is a museum of everyday life, and is one of the best museums I've ever visited. It takes you from Roman times right up to today, and as well as the really ancient stuff, it has things like televisions and washing machines, so that you can see how household appliances developed over the 20th century. As a student at York, I was able to go in free of charge, and I went there often to browse the different collections.
The Jorvik Viking Centre recreates the sights, sounds and smells of Viking Britain and is probably worth a visit if you've got the time, but is quite expensive and tends to have quite long queues. I'd say it was more aimed at families with children than adults on their own, and the main part of the tour is over quite quickly - you go through on a sort of train and don't get to stop and look at things at your leisure.
If you're at all interested in trains, the National Railway Museum is well worth a visit. As well as the static trains that you can walk round and (many of them) climb on, there's a fully operating steam train on which you can take a (very short) ride. From the centre of town, the most pleasant way to walk to the railway museum is along the towpath by the river - I used to walk along that bit of the river every day in my lunch break when I worked on that side of town one summer, and would sit in the gardens by the City Rowing Club to eat my sandwiches.
York is just a couple of hours from London by train. A great money-saving tip is that if you book on Hull Trains from London to Selby, it's considerably cheaper, and you can then take a bus from Selby to York, which takes just under an hour. Definitely well worth a visit if you have a couple of days available.
Bettys Tea Rooms is a mini-chain which has six branches across Yorkshire. The main tea room that most people visit is on the corner of St Helens Square, in the main shopping area. It's pleasant enough, but it's a very busy corner and the place has huge windows which make it feel a bit like a goldfish bowl - if you're lucky enough to get a seat on the main floor. It also tends to get very long queues, and at times you have to wait a good while for a table.
The big tip here is that Stonegate, which is a lovely cobbled street leading up from St Helens Square to the Minster (another place that mustn't be missed if you're in the area - and if you can, take a pair of binoculars with you when you go in and don't forget to look up at the ceilings and upper windows), has another branch of the same tea room, called Little Bettys Cafe. This place is a much more unspoiled old building, with the main tea room upstairs. It serves exactly the same things as the main Bettys, but usually has much shorter queues and a better atmosphere.
The Castle Museum is a museum of everyday life, and is one of the best museums I've ever visited. It takes you from Roman times right up to today, and as well as the really ancient stuff, it has things like televisions and washing machines, so that you can see how household appliances developed over the 20th century. As a student at York, I was able to go in free of charge, and I went there often to browse the different collections.
The Jorvik Viking Centre recreates the sights, sounds and smells of Viking Britain and is probably worth a visit if you've got the time, but is quite expensive and tends to have quite long queues. I'd say it was more aimed at families with children than adults on their own, and the main part of the tour is over quite quickly - you go through on a sort of train and don't get to stop and look at things at your leisure.
If you're at all interested in trains, the National Railway Museum is well worth a visit. As well as the static trains that you can walk round and (many of them) climb on, there's a fully operating steam train on which you can take a (very short) ride. From the centre of town, the most pleasant way to walk to the railway museum is along the towpath by the river - I used to walk along that bit of the river every day in my lunch break when I worked on that side of town one summer, and would sit in the gardens by the City Rowing Club to eat my sandwiches.
York is just a couple of hours from London by train. A great money-saving tip is that if you book on Hull Trains from London to Selby, it's considerably cheaper, and you can then take a bus from Selby to York, which takes just under an hour. Definitely well worth a visit if you have a couple of days available.
Saturday, 14 November 2009
Random acts of kindness
There are some things you see every day that you just come to expect - commuters don't talk to each other, bus drivers are grumpy, if a pedestrian or cyclist gets in the way of a London driver they're liable to be hooted at, people don't give up seats on the Tube any more...
So that makes it all the more refreshing when someone behaves in an unexpected way - and last week I saw something which put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
Being early November and the clocks having gone back, it was dark and miserable by the time the evening rush hour began. I was leaving the office and heading for the station along a busy London street.
As I walked, I noticed that the traffic lights ahead of me were red. There was a cyclist at the front of the queue of traffic, and behind him was a bus. Suddenly, one of the lamps fell of the cyclist's bike, and as it hit the floor it sprang apart into several pieces.
The cyclist scurried about trying to pick up the pieces of his lamp before the traffic lights changed, but he was too late and had to rush to the side of the road, wheeling his bike with one hand as he clutched a few broken pieces of his lamp with the other.
I saw all this almost without registering it, but then felt very sorry for the cyclist as I heard the inevitable hoot of a horn.
For once, though, it wasn't a motorist getting impatient with a cyclist. It was the driver of the bus, and he was beckoning the cyclist over and pointing to a large part of the cycle lamp which lay on the road in front of him. He was also resolutely keeping still and preventing the traffic behind him from moving, so that the cyclist was able to run forward and pick up the last piece of his light.
It gave me a warm glow to see the consideration that this bus driver gave to the cyclist - all the more so, probably, because of the treatment that I've had from bus drivers in the past over seven years of cycling wherever I went in London.
It also made me think - that small act of courtesy probably made the cyclist's day. Just seeing it happen made my day. It's so easy for each of us change the course of someone's day - for better or for worse - without even realising it.
So that makes it all the more refreshing when someone behaves in an unexpected way - and last week I saw something which put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
Being early November and the clocks having gone back, it was dark and miserable by the time the evening rush hour began. I was leaving the office and heading for the station along a busy London street.
As I walked, I noticed that the traffic lights ahead of me were red. There was a cyclist at the front of the queue of traffic, and behind him was a bus. Suddenly, one of the lamps fell of the cyclist's bike, and as it hit the floor it sprang apart into several pieces.
The cyclist scurried about trying to pick up the pieces of his lamp before the traffic lights changed, but he was too late and had to rush to the side of the road, wheeling his bike with one hand as he clutched a few broken pieces of his lamp with the other.
I saw all this almost without registering it, but then felt very sorry for the cyclist as I heard the inevitable hoot of a horn.
For once, though, it wasn't a motorist getting impatient with a cyclist. It was the driver of the bus, and he was beckoning the cyclist over and pointing to a large part of the cycle lamp which lay on the road in front of him. He was also resolutely keeping still and preventing the traffic behind him from moving, so that the cyclist was able to run forward and pick up the last piece of his light.
It gave me a warm glow to see the consideration that this bus driver gave to the cyclist - all the more so, probably, because of the treatment that I've had from bus drivers in the past over seven years of cycling wherever I went in London.
It also made me think - that small act of courtesy probably made the cyclist's day. Just seeing it happen made my day. It's so easy for each of us change the course of someone's day - for better or for worse - without even realising it.
Friday, 13 November 2009
Visiting London
When I was growing up, I hated London. It was big, loud, grey and overcrowded, and the people were grumpy. I swore that whatever I did, and wherever I ended up, I would never ever live there.
So in 1996 I moved to London, and over the 10 years that I lived there, I learnt to love many things about it. It's still big, loud and overcrowded, but there are unexpected pockets of green among the grey, and London's parks, both large and small, are one of its best features.
As for the grumpiness of the people... well, yes, I have to admit that's still true - especially during rush hour in the summer, when the sweating commuters in their uncomfortable suits are trudging out of the office in their finely-timed daily slog to catch the overcrowded 17:53 and find their way blocked by crowds of excited tourists who are taking each other's photo in front of a real live Tube station.
But London is also steeped with history and full of theatres, shops, museums and restaurants. You can sample the cuisine of pretty much any country in the world here if you know where to look - DH meets up with a friend of his quite regularly after work, and they're working their way through the alphabet, trying a different cuisine every time they meet. So far they've done Austrian, Belgian, Caribbean, Deutsch (I think that was cheating a bit, and they could easily have done Danish instead), Estonian, Filipino, Greek and Hungarian. I think Indonesian is next - Indian would just be too easy.
During the Second World War, road signs and station names were removed throughout the country so that if the enemy landed, they wouldn't be able to find their way around. I don't think it occurred to the powers that be that the enemy might have brought maps with them.
Anyway, when you arrive in London, you may occasionally have the impression that the War is still on and we're still trying to confuse the enemy. You'll be following a signpost to something, and just when you think you must be getting close, there'll be a fork in the road and there's no sign to tell you which way you should be going.
The first time you use the Tube, it can be hard to figure out where you're supposed to go and how everything works, but amongst all the grumpy commuters there's usually someone friendly who will give you a hand.
The big secret about London, though, is that most of the places you want to visit are actually very close together. A lot of people never realise this, because places that are only a couple of hundred yards apart might be on separate Tube lines and involve three changes of train and a whole lot of hassle.
If you do like the canny enemy and invest in a London A-Z, you'll realise that Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic one), Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Downing Street, Buckingham Palace and the London Eye are all within easy walking distance of each other. When I was living in London and had regular visitors from overseas, I worked out a walking tour which took in all the major sights, including all the above plus Tower Bridge, the Tower of London and a couple of other places, in a single day.
So in 1996 I moved to London, and over the 10 years that I lived there, I learnt to love many things about it. It's still big, loud and overcrowded, but there are unexpected pockets of green among the grey, and London's parks, both large and small, are one of its best features.
As for the grumpiness of the people... well, yes, I have to admit that's still true - especially during rush hour in the summer, when the sweating commuters in their uncomfortable suits are trudging out of the office in their finely-timed daily slog to catch the overcrowded 17:53 and find their way blocked by crowds of excited tourists who are taking each other's photo in front of a real live Tube station.
But London is also steeped with history and full of theatres, shops, museums and restaurants. You can sample the cuisine of pretty much any country in the world here if you know where to look - DH meets up with a friend of his quite regularly after work, and they're working their way through the alphabet, trying a different cuisine every time they meet. So far they've done Austrian, Belgian, Caribbean, Deutsch (I think that was cheating a bit, and they could easily have done Danish instead), Estonian, Filipino, Greek and Hungarian. I think Indonesian is next - Indian would just be too easy.
During the Second World War, road signs and station names were removed throughout the country so that if the enemy landed, they wouldn't be able to find their way around. I don't think it occurred to the powers that be that the enemy might have brought maps with them.
Anyway, when you arrive in London, you may occasionally have the impression that the War is still on and we're still trying to confuse the enemy. You'll be following a signpost to something, and just when you think you must be getting close, there'll be a fork in the road and there's no sign to tell you which way you should be going.
The first time you use the Tube, it can be hard to figure out where you're supposed to go and how everything works, but amongst all the grumpy commuters there's usually someone friendly who will give you a hand.
The big secret about London, though, is that most of the places you want to visit are actually very close together. A lot of people never realise this, because places that are only a couple of hundred yards apart might be on separate Tube lines and involve three changes of train and a whole lot of hassle.
If you do like the canny enemy and invest in a London A-Z, you'll realise that Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic one), Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Downing Street, Buckingham Palace and the London Eye are all within easy walking distance of each other. When I was living in London and had regular visitors from overseas, I worked out a walking tour which took in all the major sights, including all the above plus Tower Bridge, the Tower of London and a couple of other places, in a single day.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Springtime in England
Sonja's thinking of coming to the UK next year, and wants to know when would be a good time of year to come. Here are my thoughts, but I know there are other Brits who read this blog, and I'm sure she'd appreciate your thoughts too if you want to leave a comment.
You can NEVER guarantee the weather over here, but we quite often have good weather in late spring or early autumn. This year we had an absolutely rotten summer, but we had mini-heatwaves in both April and May, and September and October were also very pleasant. Spring is beautiful in many of the tourist areas, with places like Bath and York absolutely bursting with daffodils. The colours of autumn are also beautiful, especially once you get out of the cities.
If you want to avoid peak travel times, try to avoid Easter. All the schools are off for two or three weeks then, and we get loads of visitors from the Continent as well – London is crawling with huge crowds of German, Spanish and French teenagers for a couple of weeks at Easter, and for quite a lot of July and August.
Good Friday and Easter Monday are national holidays, so lots of places will be shut. We also have national holidays on the first and last Mondays in May. Most British people spend the majority of their time on those bank holidays sitting in their cars in traffic jams, because everyone tries to head for the same places as soon as they have a day off work. This is particularly true if the sun is shining, when everyone packs a picnic and tries to head for the beach.
Different local authorities have slightly different dates for school holidays, but with Easter falling on 4 April next year, I would avoid the first two weeks of April. Some schools don’t go back until 20 April.
Also, try to avoid half-term, which is usually the last week of May or first week of June – again, the schools are off then (just for a week), and tourist areas can get very crowded. Most local authorities have already published their term dates online, so you could google the dates once you’ve sort of decided on them, just to make sure you’re not hitting any school holidays.
Another time of year when rain is almost guaranteed is the last week of June and first week of July. This is Wimbledon fortnight, and almost invariably the tennis is disrupted by rain. We quite often get some good sun in between the rain showers - and therein lies the biggest problem with a holiday in England. If you're here in the summer, you need to pack shorts, t-shirts, long trousers, sweaters, a raincoat and a brolly and be prepared for all eventualities.
Maybe this is why I think late spring or early autumn are the best times to come - when the sun is shining, both seasons are beautiful, and it's all the more appreciated because the sunshine is not guaranteed.
Come here for the history, the beautiful countryside, the theatres, the famous British sense of humour, to listen to our cute accents, even for the food - but don't come here for the weather.
You can NEVER guarantee the weather over here, but we quite often have good weather in late spring or early autumn. This year we had an absolutely rotten summer, but we had mini-heatwaves in both April and May, and September and October were also very pleasant. Spring is beautiful in many of the tourist areas, with places like Bath and York absolutely bursting with daffodils. The colours of autumn are also beautiful, especially once you get out of the cities.
If you want to avoid peak travel times, try to avoid Easter. All the schools are off for two or three weeks then, and we get loads of visitors from the Continent as well – London is crawling with huge crowds of German, Spanish and French teenagers for a couple of weeks at Easter, and for quite a lot of July and August.
Good Friday and Easter Monday are national holidays, so lots of places will be shut. We also have national holidays on the first and last Mondays in May. Most British people spend the majority of their time on those bank holidays sitting in their cars in traffic jams, because everyone tries to head for the same places as soon as they have a day off work. This is particularly true if the sun is shining, when everyone packs a picnic and tries to head for the beach.
Different local authorities have slightly different dates for school holidays, but with Easter falling on 4 April next year, I would avoid the first two weeks of April. Some schools don’t go back until 20 April.
Also, try to avoid half-term, which is usually the last week of May or first week of June – again, the schools are off then (just for a week), and tourist areas can get very crowded. Most local authorities have already published their term dates online, so you could google the dates once you’ve sort of decided on them, just to make sure you’re not hitting any school holidays.
Another time of year when rain is almost guaranteed is the last week of June and first week of July. This is Wimbledon fortnight, and almost invariably the tennis is disrupted by rain. We quite often get some good sun in between the rain showers - and therein lies the biggest problem with a holiday in England. If you're here in the summer, you need to pack shorts, t-shirts, long trousers, sweaters, a raincoat and a brolly and be prepared for all eventualities.
Maybe this is why I think late spring or early autumn are the best times to come - when the sun is shining, both seasons are beautiful, and it's all the more appreciated because the sunshine is not guaranteed.
Come here for the history, the beautiful countryside, the theatres, the famous British sense of humour, to listen to our cute accents, even for the food - but don't come here for the weather.
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