Sometimes things just don’t go to plan. Don’t you just hate
that? I am a perfectionist and when I have an idea of how something is going to
be, I struggle to adapt if it isn’t exactly like that in reality. Following my
recent job news (yay!) I had 2 weeks to finally enjoy my time off before
starting work again and it was going to be EXCELLENT. I was going to go for
lots of long runs, I was going to shop, I am joining my family down in Devon
where I was going to go surfing (try to), go on bike rides and run along
the beach every morning. I was going to get a massage and a haircut and
enjoy a fabulous anniversary adventure with Gareth. It was going to be the indulgent break I haven’t
had since the dawn of time...
That was until approximately 8:00pm on Monday night, when 9 minutes
into a netball match my ankle went crunch beneath me and the blood drained from
my face. As I crawled off the court and turned to look at my now Elephant-man
ankle, my heart sunk as all my dreams for the next few weeks went bouncing off
into the distance with the ball. As my ankle continued to grow and I was wheel-chaired
out of Sheffield’s largest leisure centre dripping with sweat and fighting back
tears (oh the memories!) my picture perfect few weeks evaporated completely.
I am trying to get better at adapting when things don’t go
to plan, especially when really all that has happened is a minor inconvenience for
a short period of time. To me it may have felt like I had been clinging onto
these few weeks off forEVER and it was hard to accept that now there were alot of things I just could not do, but
really I know we’re just talking about a sprained ankle here. Its not that bad.
Its just a nuisance. So I have tried to be really optimistic and embrace my
time off in a different way. Thankfully Gareth has been off work so there has
been lots of TV sessions, lots of films, lots of TV dinners and lots of
R&R. Each time an ‘I could have been doing this’ or ‘I should have been
doing that’ comes into my mind I tell myself to man up. I know how lucky I am,
and this is merely a fly in the ointment. While I can feel my bum getting wobblier with
each day off from my exercise regime, I need to accept that sometimes you just
can’t do everything you think you need to. My massage will wait, I WILL run again, I will
still hobble on that train to Devon this weekend – it’s not the end of the
world. First world problems at their finest. That said, I would be god damned
if anything was going to get the way of me and my boy celebrating our
anniversary.
Romancing a different
way
It probably won’t surprise you that I am a total romantic.
We’re both quite traditional too, so romance for us means I bake for him, he
sends me 12 Red Roses and takes me for dinner – you know the good old fashioned
romance that people deny they like but most can’t help but warm to when it is
them on the receiving end.
For our anniversary I had long since planned a picture
perfect day of lazy brunch, a rainy/sunny walk in the peaks, me waiting on him
hand and foot and getting dressed up to the nines for a meal out, but seeing as
2 days before the celebrations I quite romantically and dramatically sprained
my ankle (classic Hannah I might add), the romance of our day took a drastic
turn. It started in A&E as I rested my puffy ankle on his knee, the sweat
from my leg meeting his jeans. Ahh, lovely. Our anniversary itself involved
much puffing and whining from me as I shuffled on my bum around the house. I
ungracefully lurched his presents at him across the bed and groaned as I went
to lift my roses out of their box. I was determined to make him brunch but he
wouldn’t really let me, so I got frustrated and couldn’t even stamp my good
foot as I tried to man handle him out of the kitchen. Later that day, the romantic walk became a 2
hour drive in the countryside as we belted along to BBC Radio 2’s oldies –
Bryan Adams, Elton John, they were all in there. I all but hung my head out the
window like a dog as i tried to get my first few gulps of fresh air for 3 days
and avoid car sickness.
NOTHING keeps me away from my baking and I was determined he
would still get the showstopper cake I had painstakingly created in my mind. So the day before said anniversary, while he
slept off his A&E and night shift
double whammy, I panted and hopped around the kitchen for 3 solid hours
icing and filling the cake I had thankfully baked a few days in advance. I
might have had Big Foots ankle and been drugged up to the eyeballs on
painkillers, but nothing comes in the way of me and one of my baked-good
creations. It was humdinger and I cursed myself for having to have set the bar
higher every year.
Dinner was something I was determined to still go to. He’d
offered to get take out instead and take me out another time, but I wanted to
put on my pretty dress and eat fine food dammit! So after an arduous 60 minutes
trying to get ready, as I reluctantly left my high heels behind and settled for
pumps, he taxied me door to door between our house and the restaurant, and I
hobbled through the meal with my foot elevated as best I could, my 1 glass of
wine going straight to my painkiller dosed head, causing me to confirm loudly
that we WOULD have Cotton-Eye Joe as our first dance at our wedding. And we
both did our own renditions of it.
When we got home it was straight to the freezer as he placed
frozen sweetcorn on my ankle, brought me ibuprofen and regularly had to
rearrange my cushions as I panted my way through a film, fidgeting every 5
seconds. I think I started to fall asleep at about 9.45pm. Ahhh, rock and roll!
I slept 10 hours and woke up this morning irritable from lack of fresh air and
groggy from too many painkillers, but I still had to smile as I grumpily put
the kettle on – how could I not feel the love?
So as it turns out, our day wasn’t quite the traditional romance
I had planned. But you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. We made some real
memories and next year we will laugh. Mainly at me. We had a hilarious time crooning
our way around the peaks as the rain hit the windows, he still got his annual ‘showstopper’
cake and I still enjoyed my beautiful roses
from the sofa. Romance exists in so many forms, and to me there is nothing more
romantic than him standing behind me pushing me as I crawl ungracefully up the
stairs, grunting with every step.
The lesson I am learning (and think I needed to) is that life
can be enjoyable even when it is restricted and is not what you had planned,
because all that matters if you are alive, well and together. I think knowing that and laughing your way through the rest is the secret. I told him whilst
we watched my ankle become increasingly deformed in A&E that I hoped he
knew with me there would never be a dull moment and he just smiled at me so
fondly it broke my heart. He knew. So here’s to another year of euphoria
followed by falling over, I don’t care, ‘coz I got you babe.
I would like to also give a little mention to my
grandparents, who also celebrated their anniversary yesterday – married 65
years and counting. They are an inspiration.
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Nanna & Grandpa, married 65 years |
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