More for my amusement than that of anyone else, I note my current theory-ette...
As the Doc regenerates, both Rose and Donna grab him and are combined with him (partially or completely), thus making him somehow into a three-for-the-price-of-one entity.

Strange what the mind comes up with when it should be going bye-byes.

Blimey, I love this flat!!

I'm gleefully, blissfully happy here now.  There are still a few boxes and bags to sort out, but nothing that can't wait its turn until my back is better.  I now have some spiffy venetian blinds at the windows, easier to regulate the light than the pre-existing roller blinds, and am planning on having some curtains eventually, to soften the edges a bit and make the place more snuggly in winter.

The flat is exceptionally well sound-proofed and also very well insulated, and I barely notice my neighbours most of the time.

Saying that, they've noticed me...

Unfortunately (at the time), although fortunately (with hindsight), my cat Teasle decided to parade around on a window ledge and was spotted by the president of the residents' committee.  Yea verily, the shit did hit the fan, initially.  A week ago, after putting my "case" to him and another few residents, the committee have decided that Teasle can stay with me for the rest of his fluffy life, provided that I neither add to nor replace him.  This suits me fine, and who knows, by the time my pudden pops off, there may be a whole new pet-friendly committee.  Well, pigs may fly, too, but, as I said, who knows?

The upshot is that my mental health is improving now.  I hadn't realised how much of a strain the move and the cat-related stuff had put me under, having become used to sleeping patchily and feeling constantly edgy.  The feeling of relief and well-being is almost tangible, and I'd make a fortune id I could bottle it and sell it.

My back is still another story.  I pulled it way back at the start of April and have been off work ever since.  The stiffness usually seems to wear off during the day, but the sciatica is bloody vile and seems to be ever-present.  I don't like taking painkillers, but I give in eventually, when I can't find anywhere sensible to put my right leg, short of unscrewing it and leaning it in a corner to hurt by itself.  I've now got a TENS machine from Boots, and have tried it once for about two hours.  It did seem to give some relief, so I shall have another go tomorrow.  I suspect it's going to be heavy on the batteries, so I'd better find out which box they're in...

No - not me doing it - I can't make it across the road without wanting a sit-down - but  a work colleague of mine  needs sponsorship urgently .

His Justgiving sponsorship page is here:http://www.justgiving.com/coast-2coast

He's a really lovely bloke (blimey, wish I was 25 years younger than I am now!) and he's off on this walk soon (June 20th), so anyone with a bit of spare dosh, please go to his page and sponsor him! Tell your friends, too!!

Many thanks.

I'm online as of today - just sorted through 841 emails that had been accruing.
There is no way that I'll ever catch up with my f/list, so if there's something that I ought to know, please tell me in comments or send me a link. 
Now to start getting back to "normal" again!

Right, I now have a phone line and it works.  I still have no internet, until at least May 21st (dammit!!) and am once again borrowing Jan's computer to do stuff this afternoon.

Teasle 1.0 safely installed and more or less sorted.  He responded in the usual "Aaaagh!  Run and hide!" way that was expected of him, but allowed me to carry him around and show him the flat.  By the end of the afternoon, he knew where the food and water were, and had found the litter tray successfully.   Thank heavens for the useful Feliway diffuser that I plugged in, it seemed to calm him down just as it was supposed to.

He's being a noisy little sod, though, especially at about 1.00am, when all things are otherwise quite silent.  He's been threatened with mittenhood on several occasions, but that makes not one scrap of difference to him.  Friday gave him pause (paws?) for thought, though, as Not only were my decorators finishing things off, but some furniture arrived and Jan came over, so he was a bit flummoxed and hid in my bedroom for the duration.

Meanwhile, my back is still mostly buggered and my pore brane is bung-full.

Back at some point when I get properly online in the comfort of my own abode.  Whenever that is...

Just borrowing a bit of internet access from my pal Jan to say that BT have been a bunch of incompetent f*ckwits and have managed to leave me without a landline until May 16th and without broadband until late the following week.  And that's if they get it right this time.  They got my account mixed up with the woman I bought the flat from , who was with TalkTalk, and who has obviously decided to go back to BT, thus scuppering all my hard work and costing me a fortune in phone calls and time spent chasing things up on my mobile...  Also, the redirection message they put on my old line gives a completely erroneous number.  What jolly fun.

Still, I am all moved in and 3/4 unpacked now.  The flat is fab and vewy, vewy quiet at night.

Tomorrow, Hazel is coming over and we'll get Teasle back and attempt to get him into the flat without attracting attention.  Wish me luck.
I just hope he doesn't start going funny from residual paint fumes, stress and whatnot.  I just hope he doesn't do anything smelly where he shouldn't or yell the place down either.  Worrit worrit worrit.

This move is either going to be the best thing I've done in ages, or one of the worst mistakes of my life.

 Which door has the tiger behind it, and which one conceals Johnny Depp?

Tonight I feel so safe in my old flat that I'm soooo tempted to call the whole thing off and put the new flat back on the market tomorrow.  (Cue enraged mob of pals, with torches and pitchforks, who've had their ears bent ad inf. and ad naus. about this bloody flat since last November)

I feel very alone tonight because Teasle's not here.  My mates are busy and I'm feeling quite shaky - almost on the verge of tears but never quite going over the threshold into a good weep.  My back is rebelling and my hormones haven't decided whether or not I'm actually going to have a result from their team this month.
 
It's the end of an era.  I've known this flat since my uncle first bought it in 1984, so when I moved here it was already a very familiar place.  The house I left to come here was also a familiar place before we moved in.  Dave and I bought it from a friend in 1992 - and I'd said to this guy back in the early 80s (at his Shakespearean-themed house-warming!) that if he ever sold the house, I would want to buy it. 

So, stepping now from the oh-so familiar to the relatively unknown. 

All the enthusiasm I had for the new flat has vanished today. 
Russell (general excellent handy-chap) rang to tell me that the fridge was safely installed (after a bit of a tussle with the door-frames).  "You don't sound like yourself, buddy.", said he.  "That's because I'm a hologram.  The real Sarah is hiding under the sink, curled up in a foetal position, rocking slightly and hugging her teddy."

There still seems to be rather a lot to do before the men come in the morning.  I suspect late to bed and early to rise will be the order of things.  Hazel says she'll come over as early as she can to bolster the flagging spirit and help load up the car with the emergency supplies that we'll need for the first day or so, as she's staying with me for a couple of days to help me settle in and sort stuff out. 
One lot of emergency stuff went back with Russell this evening - a bag of coffee and tea things and a full bag of booze (2 x Cava, 2 x Chardonnay, 1 x Hendricks Gin, 1 x tonic) - and some occasional tables for him to put together when he's finally shifted all the rubbish from the balcony...

Damn I wish the gin wasn't in the other flat...
 

I should be ferreting madly in drawers and chucking out loads of useless crap.
I should be stripping the spare bed and trying to haul my case onto it to pack for The Move.
I should be trying to get limescale off my dish-drainer.
I should be shifting odds and ends from where they are to where they need to be.
I should be putting together the "survival kit" for tomorrow (kettle, coffee, remotes, booze etc.).
I should be doing a metric ass-load of stuff before collapsing in a wibbling heap tonight.

But I'm not.

I'm sitting at the computer writing displacement rubbish, having just seen Teasle off to Mypetstop posh cattery ("Pet Resort & Care Centre"!). 
I'm waiting to find out whether or not my new fridge-freezer actually makes it into the new flat without all the doors having to be taken off first. (UPDATE: doors are just ok, but the radiator in the kitchen has to come off temporarily...good job handyman is there to see to it....).
I'm scratching the back of my head because the stress hives have started.
I have sciatica and backache and feel vaguely nauseous.  Possibly a chorizo-chipolata sandwich was not the best idea for brekker.

Why did I think that moving was a good idea?  Haven't I learnt my lesson yet? I've moved 10 times in my adult life, since leaving home at 20, and each damn move has been bigger and more complex than the last.  I realise that 10 times is small beer to some, but it's a big thing for me.

And (Waly! Waly!) no Internets for me from about 8am tomorrow until some time on Thursday - possibly 10pm.

EEK! 

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7367385.stm

Two Lumps: Drat!  : I love the Two Lumps strip and have made a few icons from it over time.  This one is a good one for when things have gone wrong, but is more for mild annoyance than  for OMFGWTFBBQ!!1 when everything is going to hell in a handcart. The webcomic is at: http://www.twolumps.net/ and is well worth checking out, especially if you're owned by a cat.

Lovely Dave: My lovely late husband Dave.  He died nearly 5 years ago at just 42 from pancreatic cancer.  He was an artist, musician, cat -wrangler, my lover, my best friend, a charmer, a Taurean and still missed.  I use this icon usually for my yearly "In Memoriam" post, or if he ever needs a post all to himself for some reason....

Semaphore Scout:  He spells out "madcatwoman" if you watch him for long enough.  I got him from a long-forgotten site where you could make dinky little scouts spell things out. Sightings of this icon are rare, for no real reason other than he's a bit bland.

Venus: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venus_of_Willendorf  She is my body type, but with a bigger bust (though mine is definitely adequate IMHO!). She's the closest any of youse lot are going to get to seeing me bare-ass nekkid.  Another rarely-seen icon, for baring my soul about body things, or replying to posts about same.

Nothing On My Mind:  I don't remember whence this came.  I think I stole it, uncredited, from someone in my early days on LJ, when I didn't understand that there are ways of doing things politely!  Really for times of depression.  But I don't generally post when I'm really depressed.

This is an icon meme (via heartmart)
If you haven't done it yet - there is still time! Here are the rules:
1. Reply to this post, and I will pick five of your icons.
2. Make a post in your own journal and talk about the icons I chose.

Stolen from just about everywhere/everyone.

Seated one day at the organ computer, thinking in a vague fashion about the need to stagger off to my pit, it having gone past 1am without my noticing , the merry banter of the local yoofs outside the shops below my flat turns into crash, bang, wallop, tinkle-crash, and an alarm going off.
So, that's how I end up sitting here posting at nearly 2am, on account of there being some necessity to wind down again.
The Police have been and gone, coming as a result of my call - proves the system works - and a rather lush one came to see me to get some details.  The St Gemma's Hospice charity shop downstairs has been broken into, which is a helluva shame.  It's a good little shop and I often end up buying unnecessary but decorative things.  I suspect that one of my friends would be semi-naked were it not for the excellent clothes she finds in there (well, it's supposedly posh round 'ere, innit, so good second hand gear.).  The local scum usually have a go at the branch of Threshers at the other end, and I generally seem to sleep through that.  Would that it had been their target tonight...

So, off to bed soon, hoping that I drop off quickly because I have to be up and dressed for the Tesco chap tomorrow morning at 9.  Since I pulled a back muscle, the getting up and dressed bit takes rather longer than normal - I seize up in the night, so I can't bend easily, and hobble about the flat like a spavined duck until I begin to un-kink enough to begin the job of getting a leg in a pant.  My friends have swapped my usual firm mattress for the medium one from the spare bed, which has helped to some extent, and my GP has given me a med cert for two weeks.  Apparently I'm doing all the right things for it to get better, and it should just be a matter of time.  But, ooh, it ain't 'alf set off me sciatica a treat!!  The sofa looks as though  there's been an explosion in a cushion factory because of all the bits of soft furnishing that I'm employing to get the right bit of support in the right place.  And it generally only works for about 20 minutes before I have to reconfigure it again.

In other news, work on the flat continues apace, as far as I can tell.  I haven't been to see it for well over a week, but  my decorator has been popping over to see me with paint samples and carpet samples so that I can turn rough guesses into informed decisions.  Thank the Lord for tester-pots, or the place would have ended up far too stark.  I may try to get there this weekend, while Hazel A is over here for a couple of days.  After tonight, the sooner I can move in, the happier I'll be.

Edited: No matter what time LJ says this was posted, it's 02:18am by a good computer...

Well, I've been nudged by a pal, and I admit it's been a while since I updated, so here goes:

Current status: After being awake from 3am to 5am with blasted IBS (ongoing), I'm now in rather a lot of pain because I seem to have wrenched my right hip and am only capable of staggering round the flat grabbing onto passing bits of furniture. I don't know really how I've done it, but I'm now uncomfortable sitting. standing, walking and lying down. Time to dig out the Deep Heat and hit the Ibuprofen, which'll go a real treat with the IBS. So am Off Werk today and Not Happy. And toilet "fun" does not go well with difficulty bending, if'n you get my drift....

New Flat: Bathroom, kitchen and boiler refit now done and (gulp) paid for. Decorators starting today - stripping walls and putting in new doors where no doors were before to make a separate hall and give me an en-suite. If I could make my mind up, finally, about colours etc., things would doubtless progress quite well. But true to form, I'm vacillating, and this damn silly hip pain is making it hard to think about anything other than trying to get comfortable.

( Some before and after photos )

Now to try moving to the sofa...

Enter the ICHC online Poker Cats Contest!

Without D&D in the late 70s and early 80s I might never have met Dave.
That would have been A Bad Thing.

I went to see my new flat today, to meet up with my proposed plumber and my handy man. That done, I took some photos of the place "pre-op" as t'were:
( Photos under the cut. )

Kevin and Russell will be sending me estimates, but as Kevin is a very, very good plumber indeed, and Russell is generally very well-priced (cheap!), I think I will not be getting other estimates. It's just so that I have an idea of the enormity of the initial outlay!

Right!  The deal is done, the Fab Flat is now mine-all-mine-all-mine, and I have the keys to prove it.
Meeting up with Plumber (Kevin) and Handyman (Russell) on Saturday morning, in theory, for them to get told what I want done.  They can then tell me if I can have it and, more importantly, what it will all set me back. *quiet scream*

Rather a list of stuff...in no real order:

Remove bath and put in huge walk-in shower. Re-tile...
Remove (electric) immersion heater and tank and put the hot water onto the same system as the central heating (gas), necessitating a new combi boiler (eek!£££), as I loathe immersion heaters.
Remove manky old gas hob and replace, as controls have been so Brillo-ed in the past that they are totally and utterly illegible.
Remove manky old electric built-under oven and replace (see above re state of knobbage).
Put in light-coloured worktops, as black is not a good colour in a small kitchen that's going to be used by a messy mare like me, and will look brighter with the extant light wood cupboards, which are fab.
Put in two doors across corridors where no doors were - thus giving me a separate hall and making the master bedroom and main bathroom ensuite(there is another small bathroom /cloakroom/shower for guests).
Strip the battleship-grey (with silver flecks!!) vinyl wallpaper from the hall and sitting/dining room, and repaint with as-yet-undecided-on lighter paint stuff.
Remove the fake rococco fireplace.
Repaint the bedrooms in something softer than the very harsh white that is there currently.
Repaint the doors to the built-in wardrobes and plethora of built-in cupboards so as to hide the naff rococco twirly bits on them, as the doors are still good under it all.
Replace the front door with something a little less "used", as every owner in the past seems to have put a different lock on and all (bar one) don't work any longer, making it look very cluttered.

Fortunately the washer/dryer and dishwasher are new-ish and look as though they'll survive the cull, and the fridge-freezer will probably be all right, pro tem.

After some judicious measuring up, I'm toying with the idea of getting this company to put me in a desk and bookshelves/cubby holes/ cupboards all along one wall in the living room, to make my office-y bit. Pal Kate says that some friends of hers have had similar done and it's very nice too.

And I'll have get Chem-Dry or somesuch in to give the vast acreage of carpet a thorough clean...after the mucky work has been done, as they're already mucky now.

Looking at it written down is enough to give me the heebies...

Here goes..!

I am, in theory, part of the way through buying a new (to me) flat. It's about a mile away from my current place, has three bedrooms, lifts to all floors, a balcony, live-in concierge and corking views. This has been rumbling on since November. The survey was wonderful - flat in good nick, asking price believable etc. The flat is exactly what I have been looking for - it faces south and west, it's in a far more secure building than my current flat, and it would put an end to problems with the steep concrete stairs here.

But.

There is a nasty clause in the lease (as it's one of a block it's leasehold rather than freehold), which prohibits the keeping of any animal or bird - something along the lines of not keeping, allowing to be kept or suffering to be kept any animal or bird yada yada yada. I have a copy of the lease and the clause does not seem to give any leeway whatsoever. It's apparently common knowledge that some of the owners keep dogs/cats/budgies. However, after talking it over with my solicitor, I don't want to chance moving and then be dobbed in by a (theoretical) nasty neighbour and end up being found to be in contravention of the lease and be expected either to give up the flat, or (which would be worse) give up my lovely big ginger puddy. Teasle is not negotiable.

A letter has been sent by my solicitor to see what the management body says about this clause. I'm quite prepared to pay an indemnity or agree to "make good" any cat-incurred damage if and when I move again.

I can understand that they don't want a block full of big woofing dogs and unneutered, spraying mogs, but I would hope that the management bods can use a bit of discretion...

This could be a real deal-breaker, and I am afraid I will lose my dream flat.

Bummocks.

Estoy otra vez en España!
Back in Alicante again having a great time.  Hazel and I have been joined for three days by Kate Jeary, as planned, and those two are up the Castillo de Santa Barbara at the moment.  I am skulking in the hotel lobby playing internet catch-up and getting used to the Spanish keyboard.
I tried to go back over my f/list but I won´t really have time at €2 for 30 mins, so the bulk will have to wait until I get home. 
Weather here is fab, food is fab, new Notario is fab and One Day it will all get sorted out.
But not yet...

My lovely boy was put to sleep this afternoon.
The lovely vet gave him a really good looking over and said that what was wrong with him was a combination of things which hadn't shown themselves at all in the past:
His thyroid was becoming enlarged, he had developed heart problems and had an erratic heartbeat, the oedema that had started in his paws was gradually spreading up his poor wee legs indicating kidney problems showing themselves and he was having problems with his liver.
Singly some of these things might have been treatable, but as a job-lot she reckoned that any treatment would not really be much good as he was too weak to make it through. I wanted him to go while he still had some of his dignity left. He was a very dignified old gent - I used to call him a Peter Cushing Cat - old and a bit skinny but never to be underestimated.

Typical bloody feline behaviour - pretend nothing's wrong with you until the very end is in sight...

Right now I think that my Dave is sitting cross-legged on the ground somewhere with a very contented (but still slightly surprised) little black cat in his lap.

vret is taking me and Starless to t'veterinary this afternoon.  They are opening early especially for us.
Starless is my 20 year old Little Black Cat (aka Eldest Cat).
My poor boy is not doing at all well and I think I may have to say goodbye to him before he gets any worse.  He has lost his "zing" and only walks two or three steps before sitting down and contemplating the infinite for a while.  He doesn't /can't lift his tail anymore and I have had to get dried on poo off his under-tail.  His loo habits for poos have become wherever he can get to and it's minimal to say the least, plus anal leakage when curled up with me.  The wobbliness and zing-loss and tail-thing have only really been since Tuesday, and his poos were grand things, worthy of a bigger cat, till yesterday.  His belly has become bigger since (you guessed, Tuesday) and since yesterday his left paws and "ankles" are somewhat swollen.  He doesn't seem to be in pain, but he seems sad and has been ultra -lovey with me when he can get to me.  He is spending most of his time under a piece of furniture that I can't get to, but from where he can see me, though he came to snuggle on the bed last night and woke me up at 4am asking for snuggles, too.

I will post more when I know more.