Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 24

“PROBLEM” AREAS

My “problem” areas have shifted recently.

I must admit to having a marked preference for the new ones; Cortisone is shopping’s best friend!

Also, family packs of toilet paper are so last season.

Buy me a Mars bar!

A LITTLE LOCA

If I let myself go, where would I go to?

Is there a place where nobody would bat an eyelid if I reconnected with my six-year-old self and skipped down the street singing Oklahoma at the top of my voice,

Or

Did bike wheelies and then patted the handlebars while speaking in soothing tones?

And would my friends be up to playing elastic (preferably dissuading me from attempting anything higher than ankle)?

I would obviously still wear my signature shade of red lipstick.

Tout de même!

BUY ME A NEW RED LIPSTICK!

...

What did the frowning Security man see in my cute little white carry-on?

Was it my prized collection of vintage crochet hooks that made him lean in with a puzzled expression?

Or did my impressive collection of medication for every illness known to the pharmaceutical industry incite closer inspection?

Or was he simply looking for an excuse to get to know the crafty, precautious, attractive older woman behind the drugs?

Life goals!

Buy me a Lamborghini? A bunny? A Yorkshire Terrier?

Or buy my book!

WEATHER FORECAST

Plane-rattling westerly winds over large parts of Europe today.

All passengers flying Buoyant Airlines to Barcelona encouraged to refrain from breakfast. We regret to inform you that, due to budget  restrictions, puke bags are no longer provided.

Toilets will not be operational during this flight.

Thank you for your collaboration.

BUY ME A MINCE PIE? A NEW DRESS? A SCENTED CANDLE?

SHE MEANS WELL

 

Well, hello there my dear

How’ve you been? What’s your news?

You’re looking amazing;

I do love those shoes!

 

Have you seen your friend Thingy?

Are you two still tight?

As much as I love her,

She can’t be that bright.

 

Thingy said things about you

I shouldn’t repeat

But I’m sure you’re aware

She’s a bit of a freak.

 

In a nutshell that nutter

Spouted this and then that.

I’m telling you this

Just to give you the facts.

 

Of course, I ignored her,

Gossip isn’t my style!

I find her behaviour

Utterly infantile.

 

She’s so boorish, so stuck-up,

So heartless and crass.

But don’t let her upset you,

She’s just a spoilt brat.

 

Well, I guess I should go now,

I’ve so much to do!

But please don’t tell Thingy

The things I’ve told you.

Buy me a Mince Pie?

DON’T STOP BELIEVING

Made by Me

With joy and exhilaration,

Will my magic

Reach

Curious fingers,

Pique

Intrigued minds,

And

Bubble up

Smiles?

Giggles?

Joy?

 

Dream, create, share, then detach,

 

But don’t stop believing.

 

(Especially at Christmas!)

THE KICKER

Good morning,I wrote this on my phone late last night in a few minutes.It's a poem inspired by a memory of when my husband and I were on holiday in the Maldives over Christmas more than a decade ago. Soon after we arrived, my husband saw one of his all time football heroes (who had become a huge international coach) coming towards us, and literally froze. It was as if I'd seen Ricky Martin sashaying towards me... Anyway, to each his own, or their own, or whatever the wording of that expression is. I can never remember. I'm sure you get the picture.We ended up having drinks and dinner with the football star and his wife, and remain good friends. Here it is!THE KICKERIt’s him,He gasped,Stargiddy,Crash-Landing in DisneylandAs a vision ofAbsolutely Normal Brushed past us in the lobby.Apparently, you are,I chirruped,Ignorant therefore unfazed,Grabbing life by the Ta-da’s!!!I am, he smiled, unfazed,As my other halfGush-gabbled decades ofFootball fireworks.Drink? Suggested the star.Cue the hallelujah chorus.

(Obviously not in the Maldives, but following a football match a few years ago. Lucien Favre is in the blue shirt, next to me)

My romantic comedy, JUST LIKE A MOVIE starts in a very similar way. Gemma, recently divorced, finds herself sitting next to a very famous pop star she’s had a crush on for ages on her flight to Ibiza, which is where she’s moving to to start over and move on with her life (as they always say in The Bold and The Beautiful, aka Top Models in Switzerland). It’s a fun read, bound to cheer you up, so if you haven’t already read it why not pick it up and read it over the holidays? Or gift it to a friend in need of cheering up! Find it

KINDREDS IN KINDNESS

Artwork by Olivia Bossert

Tonight,

I wish to be a pilgrim of kindness,

Depositing a jewel-coloured wreath of gratitude

Decorated with twinkling,

Multicoloured fairy-lights,

In the hearts of all the people

Who have been so generous towards me

Throughout this particularly challenging year.

 

May we twinkle for each other,

Kindreds in Kindness,

Going Big in the Department

Of Generosity and Support.

If we do this,

Wherever we are,

We will always be Home.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

With love,

 

Francesca

 

Buy me a Coffee (it's like giving me a little tip!)

 

 

CHOCOLATE COVERED ME!

Good morning!

 

I've been overindulging in the sweet stuff recently. My husband is adorable and tells me I have three years to make up for. And jahwohl mein Schnitzel, I suppose I could look at it that way, because it's true. Although it's more like two years, really, since I was diagnosed with colitis and went on a walk along the straight and narrow and turned myself into a carrot stick within weeks in an attempt to ward off the issue.

 

It worked for a few months. And ooh, was I elderly woman catwalk material! But the caved in cheekbones and sad complexion began to make people wonder if I was really ill. Which I was, but not in the way they imagined, thankfully.

 

Anyway, no sweet yummies for me for a while. No sugar, no dairy, no gluten (and no anything, really. Yes, it was brutal!) Which for someone who has always loved breakfast (toasts, butter, jam, croissants,) made my mornings quite boring. Of course, I did avocado on gluten free crackers with olive oil, and yes I like that too. But I missed the other stuff.

 

In the past year I gradually almost stopped eating altogether because I was sick all the time. Food became the enemy. I ate tiny amounts, just enough to keep myself going, but I was tired all the time and would sleep for hours most afternoons. My Swiss gastroenterologist had nothing to offer me apart from immuno-supporessants (Enterocort, the cortisone she'd initially prescribed hadn't worked) and I was reticent. Then my husband ran into an old friend of mine at a restaurant close to our house. She asked how I was, and he told her I wasn't well at all. She immediately said I should call a doctor who had helped her youngest son, who had had terrible IBD issues (and more) throughout his childhood and adolescence.

 

I waited over three months for an appointment, and couldn't even go to it because I was too sick to fly. I'd already sent him my file, so we did it by Skype. We had a long talk, and he was so nice, and explained so much without talking down to me (don't you hate doctors who talk to you like you're a half-wit?), and prescribed a different cortisone for me to try, along with something else (not an opioid!) for my chronic pain. But when I went to pick it up at the pharmacy the next day, they didn't have it in Switzerland. I drove to France, across the border (we live close) but they didn't have it there either. My husband was in Spain with my daughter, her husband and her in-laws, so they went to pick it up for me. I took a lot of anti-D stuff and flew to Barcelona the following day. I took the meds on Thursday morning and I've gradually turned into Tigger! No D. No pain. Nada.

 

I've seen the doctor again, shortly and he referred me to an immunologist because he suspects other autoimmune issues, and I'm seeing that doctor on December 9th. We shall see.

 

Meanwhile, although I'm still watching my diet, I've allowed myself more uplifting breakfasts again. I've had sourdough toast, with dairy free butter and jam. And after dinner (and sometimes in the afternoon) I've eaten black, salted chocolate. I love black salted chocolate! And oranges coated in black chocolate! Have you ever had those?! OMG!

 

I no longer look gaunt (haven't in a while, to be honest. Anti-depressants...). I've even ridden my horse!!! Twice! I hadn't been able to ride in four years. And ouille-ouille-ouille, I'm so unfit, five minutes of rising trot and I was out of breath. And when I came home I slept all afternoon. But it made me so happy to be back with Dominic (that’s my horse). And I need to be gentle on myself because I've not been able to regular exercise for close to five years. In the past few months there were many days when I didn't even dare go for a walk.

 

So, I'm enjoying it all, now, because nobody knows what can happen. For now the medicine is working super well, so I'll take as much fun as I can because I won’t be able to stay on the drugs long-term. And yes, I know sugar is inflammatory. But not so much as nasty comments!

 

I wish you all the very best.

 

Here is a poem about chocolate. I wrote some of it last night and posted it on notes, then added to it this morning. Maybe I should have left the short version (first two stanzas). What do you think?

 

 

CHOCOLATE COVERED ME

 

Don’t guilt-trip the craving

Or skate around the desire.

Give into the melt

Of that yummy quagmire.

 

If your body says yes,

Tell your mind to get lost.

There’s a stairway to heaven

In chocolaty stuff.

 

Add a spoonful of sweet stuff

Per page of bleak news,

Though we’ll be shovelling sugar

If things don’t improve.

 

Take a walk on the sweet side,

Embrace those false teeth,

Celebrities love them

As seen on TV.

 

Don’t fret about blubber,

It’s all good I hear.

Spray paint yourself orange

And the masses will cheer.

 

Just kidding, of course.

But there’s something to say

About a nice bit of chocolate

On a miserable day.

 

Click on the image to buy me a coffee!!!!

 

 

FLOUNCING

 

My flounce has returned

With a spring.

With a bounce.

I find myself flouncing all over my house.

I flounce through the shops,

And keep testing to see

If this flounce is for real

Or a wonderful dream.

 

After five years of hobbling,

Of grunts and weird groans,

This flouncing is magic

It never gets old.

If I could share flouncing

With those that I love

I’d gladly send barrels of this super cool stuff.

Enjoy my writing? Support me with a tiny gesture such as

Buying me a coffee! Or buy my book!