A Little Bike ride

Soooo... I got my bike out today. It's been about 3 years. Two flat tyres.. Quite a bit of rust and lo and behold needing a little bit of TLC. (A little bit meaning quite a lot!)


I pop round to Daddy Edwards' magical mystery shed to see what he can do and within 10 minutes my tyres were blown, the chain oiled and, well, the rust is still there but I don't mind. I'm not perfect.. why should my bike be too? A little rust adds character. I swear it.


It also turned out I shouldn't bother to use my back brake.. Which was fineeeeee;  by the time I'd squeezed on the front brake the noise factor made sure that anyone within a 300 meter radius knew I was there. Handy when you don't have a bell! But highly embarrassing when everyone who sees you looks at you as if you're a public nuisance (or nutter!)


I leave my parents to pop home and grab my drinks bottle and a jumper et al. Climbed on, wiggled the handlebars and set off... only to brake at the end of the drive by the pavement and nearly end up on the floor. Making things that little bit worse; two youngish lads walk down on said pavement, sniggering away at my uselessness. Nice start Jen; weak legs and not a clue how to ride.... Whoever said that you never forget how to ride a bike needs a short sharp punch. It's lies. I looked a muppet.


So, after collecting my bits and bobs... off I went. I live the "Kings Hall end" of Herne Bay. Not even 2 minutes walk to the beach. I like it that way. Natural outstanding beauty on my doorstep. I don't think I could ever live away from the seaside now. It gets under your skin. That and of course, pubs are on the seafront. This aids my love just a little bit more really.


I headed towards Hillborough, a nice straight route for the "learner" cyclist. I'd only gone out to test my skills and to see how the bike faired. Next thing I know I was there and not wanting to turn back. Dog walkers and cyclists were out all round. I couldn't blame them. It's been such a glorious day. 

I thought it would be rude not to try out the new Oyster Bay Trail to Reculver. I trudged up the hill at Hillborough (walking.. I'm not that fit!) and had great fun on the new track around Bishopstone Glen. I kind of wanted to stop and do it all again as it reminded me of being a kid with those kind of "go faster" hills. Before you say it.. My brakes made sure everyone knew I was coming round the bends!


Next thing you know I'm over hill and down dale in front of the beautiful towers. The sea was like a mill pond. If it wasn't the fact it was only March I'd be out waterskiing. But hey ho.. That's one for later in the year.


By now the adrenaline was running high. I'd joked earlier that I'd stop at Minnis Bay for a pint. Little did I actually realise I'd manage it. Yes.. I cycled straight past the towers, resisted the urge for a swift one at the Ethelbert and straight on track to the Minnis. (Everyone's got to have a target.. By then it was a pit stop with a pint!)


I got to the Minnis in 50 minutes flat. I was so chuffed at myself; until I came to a halt and realised I couldn't quite make it off the bike. My legs had turned to jelly. I also had a slight ache in the gluteus maximus region that wasn't there before. (I think I managed to put that very politely!)


I laid out on a picnic table bench with some amazing music in my ears (Seth Lakeman, Frank Turner and U2, if anyone's interested) and disappeared into a nice daze for half an hour whilst slowly supping on a nommy pint of Gadd's whatnot. By then I was slightly tempted to call the parents to see if they'd pick me up.. Jelly legs had really hit in. Also by then, my pint had begun to take effect. Lazy days by the sea; you can't really go wrong.


I started to people watch; only to find a chap walking up on what could only be described as one gigantic horse onto the beach. By the time he'd got him onto the sand and let him play in the water I think I'd fallen in love. (To be fair, I couldn't see what this chap looked like.. by my god he could ride. That was enough. I think I got up from my bench and stood royally perving for a good five minutes before I realise what I'd actually been doing.) He then decided to go for a royal gallop up the beach. By then my enthusiasm for heading back had been spiked by wanting to watch this man on such an elegant horse. So I got on my bike and followed him up on the grass. Of course I couldn't catch up but I did manage to take a couple of shots of such a magnificent sight, I'll only put one up as so not to bore you all:

I didn't want to leave. It was pretty mesmerising. I spent the next part of my journey wishing I had a horse rather than a bike. Although I probably would ache far, far more.


By then, my energy levels had peaked so I headed back towards the towers. Not that I could see them. A haze had dropped over the seafront and gave this eerie glow with the sun trying to break through. I pottered back across and took another photo. Get me with my camera phoneyness! I was quite chuffed with this as I think it does the haze that I'd described some justice.


Anywho, I managed to make it all the way home. I was very proud. I had to stop on the lovely green patch after the towers. My poor legs really couldn't take the up hill battle. My glutes had begun to ache just that little bit more but I still managed to have the greatest of fun down the Hillborough track. Got a fast speed up and wooosh... Almost as fun as being at Thorpe Park! 


I'm home now. It took me just over two hours with my pint stop. I'm about to pour a bath with TONS of aromatherapy oils in as I have a great feeling I shall be needing the 'therapy part.  


I'm meant to don 4 inch heels for my friend's 21st birthday party tomorrow night. Good luck to that one me thinks!

Herne Bay Expo - Come one and all

There's nothing I can say.. So watch this instead!

Annual Projects and Business Exhibition

Celebrate Herne Bay at the Community, Projects & Business Open Day 2012

Visit the Community, Projects & Business Open Day on Wednesday 21 March from 2pm - 7pm at the Kings Hall, Herne Bay.                                                                   

It's an opportunity to engage with many local businesses and get an update on the great progress made on Herne Bay’s regeneration and community projects over the last 12 months, as well as seeing some exciting plans for the future. You will also be able to have a closer look at some of the services offered by the city council.

City councillors and project officers will be available to answer your questions and provide more information about the projects featured.

Some of the stands you can expect to see include: 

• QE2 Jubilee Park application
• The future options for Herne Bay Pier
• The seafront improvement plan
• The plans to refurbish the world renowned clock tower
• Bay Card – the loyalty card for Herne Bay
• Herne Bay Festival 2012
• Herne Bay Museum
• Play Provider Network
• Herne Bay in Bloom
• Bay Arena and Herons Leisure Centre

Please put this date in your diary and tell your colleagues, friends and neighbours - everyone is welcome to come along and help celebrate the good things that are happening in Herne Bay.

For further information please contact Patrick Rynne on 01227 862329 or Angela Furlong on 01227 862400.

All about ME... Part 1.

Someone asked me to explain the history of my illness the other day. I don't know how I can compact this into a blog post without writing a whole essay.. It's quite a task! Gradual parts, I think, is the way forward. I didn't realise quite how much of it I blocked out my brain until I talked about it with my parents a little while ago. Hopefully it makes sense; here it goes:


Growing up; I was a bubbly blonde happy go lucky girl who took part in practically everything. I loved life and spent most my time at gymnastics, sea cadets, dance, cycling and tons of other things. I loved school, I was a normal kid who was rarely ill.


Age 10: I moved schools due to moving house. (Big Mistake of life No1.) I missed my friends chronically and for some reason I could not glue into this school whatsoever.


Age 11: I moved into a class where I didn't get on well with most of my class mates. I only had one friend (The wonderful Beth, who is still near and dear to me) and my teacher decided to put her into a different class to me. 


I got bullied, physically and mentally by a few girls in my class. One would even be as so bold to kick my legs on the way home from school despite walking back with my own mother.  I got sworn at, spat at and pretty much humiliated in front of my whole class on a regular occasion. Kids can be so cruel.  The reason? Because I spoke nicely. Supposedly I was too "posh" to fit in. I'm a very friendly and open person and it really got me down. I also got accused of stealing a (cheap and half used) lipstick by a girl who then spread the rumour through the whole year. I hated not being liked and for some reason I wasn't just disliked.. I was pretty much hated. Not that I was ever popular in my previous school but this was another level of loserdom. I didn't want to go to school any more; it was misery. I pretty much didn't want to be alive anymore. My family and Beth were about the only things keeping me going.


Not that I knew it for many years until being told by Great Ormond Street, but I'd actually contracted Glandular Fever through my brother at the same time. It all went downhill from there. The combination of the Kent Test (11+), being bullied badly and the GF my body started to cave in. I couldn't eat without being in pain, I lost so much weight and I physically couldn't get out of bed anymore. My body ached all over, my throat was sore, my glands were up and I could barely make it up the stairs at home without giving out half way up. It took forever for the doctors to diagnose me, a good year at least. Problem was ME/CFS, back then was non existent. Known as "Yuppie Flu" or "The Fakers Disease" If only!!


 Luckily my parents took me to a private physician out of pure desperateness and even luckier for us, he happened to be one of the leading doctors in the field of ME. He wrote to Great Ormond Street to get me on the list to see the specialist.. but that didn't happen till quite some time later.


In the meantime I'd passed my 11+ and had been accepted into a local all girl's Grammar School. (Not going to name names here) My parents were very proud of me bar the fact that I struggled with life. The new teachers had reassured my parents that I would be looked after and helped with my learning considering I struggled to concentrate for an hour without developing sickness and dizzyness. I lost count of the amount of times I'd fainted.. I'd just keel over at any given moment. Beleive me when I say, that school = Biggest Mistake of my Life. 


I spent the Summer in hospital.. about 7 weeks being "monitored". I had ECG's, blood tests and   practically every other test under the sun to see what was wrong with me. It was a boiling Summer and I'd be huddled up under fleece pajamas and hot water bottles. All a bit strange really. The doctors still couldn't figure it out although they had worked out I had developed at least one stomach ulcer. (No wonder I couldn't eat!!) I dropped down to well under 5 stone and spent pretty much most my time in bed, or in a wheelchair. By now I had such bad insomnia I was lucky to get 3 hours sleep a night. My poor parents; they were at their wit's end. 


I think that's enough for now. Considering that's only the first 2 years and my concentration is failing me. Don't pity me though; this story is what makes me who I am now. A walking, talking survivor who happens to know everything and anything about drugs :-)


Part Deux.. coming soon!

Don't take life too seriously; Nobody gets out alive any way.

I was on the phone to my mum this morning when it dawned on me that tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of my Grampy passing, and a week since I had to lose my beloved Cookie. Within seconds I was once again in flood of tears. (I must sound like an emotional screw up to all who read this after my last post!)


My mind cast back onto who I've lost; especially the few in the last few months too, namely my amazing Uncle John. I couldn't help the tears; it never gets any easier, does it? They go and yet we're the ones left behind in pain. I've never dealt with loss well. I hate the idea of not existing any more; which is hilarious really considering everyone technically is a drop in the ocean of life.. It's not exactly like we make the biggest impact.


It's days like this a few old sayings pop into my head: "Don't take life too seriously; nobody gets out alive any way" and it's oh so true. We're born, we die.. perhaps we should try to enjoy the little bit we have in between (Thank you for that one Max Heinze). 


The philosophy behind my thinking could go on for hours here; is life what you make it? Is everything set in stone? Have I made the right decisions so far or will I be destined to make more bad or good choices? Should I buy chocolate or bananas for breakfast? (Actually, that one's a given!) Then I realise I've sent my head into a spin with all of this and develop a headache. (This happens on a regular occasion, trust me.)

Isn't she fantastic?!

My Grandmother turned 90 last year. (There's exactly 64 years and a day between us) She's awesome for her age but she carries this air of sadness; She's lived a long an full life but she's watched so many pass and yet she's still here. She misses Gramps terribly but at least she has all of us around her for company.  To think that I'm just over quarter of her age makes me think there's a hell of a lot more out there still to do. The question is, what do I want next? How do I go about getting it? I guess I don't know what life has in store for me yet; I keep forgetting that life goes on and that I'm only 26.  


The one thing I have decided; Life is one big question and it never, ever gets an easier. (Especially if you're involved in politics!!!)


Live in the now; life is far too short to worry about what you did yesterday, or perhaps what might go wrong tomorrow as you may never get that chance to see it.


"Sh*t happens.. it's how you deal with it that counts" - Quote Jennie Edwards 2012.

Family of the Furry Kind.

Very sad day in the Edwards Household yesterday... My little Cookie-Monster had to be put down. To anyone who is currently rolling their eyes and thinking that it's just a cat, get over yourself Jen.. Please leave this page now.


Animals teach us to love unconditionally. They are the one thing you know that you may never count on and yet want them around not matter what. (The little buggers really get to you!) I am a major animal lover and have always had a moggie in tow. Even though the first cat I ever really had contact with hated me with a vengeance till the day he passed, I still loved him to bits. (I still have the scars to prove it!) Inspector Gadget was evil. But awesome all the same


Cookie-monster  was a rescue from the Herne Bay/ Canterbury branch of Cat's Protection League. Found in a field at about 8 weeks, never to have had human contact before only to be lumped with me after a scary few days in someone's bathroom. I will never forget going to see her, she was such a bright spark for such a little thing. She won me over within moments of meeting her; she was so tiny she fitted on my right hand. We'd adopted Solimonster as an adult so I hadn't done the whole kitteny thing. I refuse to buy a cat when there's so many that need a loving home all ready.


She came home with me one sunny afternoon back in August '09 and then spent the next two weeks hiding under my bed, refusing to come out and shivering when touched. I finally managed to coax her out with the promise of food. Gradually, from then onwards, the only time you'd see her is when she'd climb up on the bed, perch on my shoulder for a mini cuddle before disappearing under the bed again. How tiny? --->


The process of getting her out of the bedroom and into the house was a slow and painful one. She was the shyest thing possible, it took months just to get her to stray into the living room. Don't even get me started on trying to get her to go outside! A leaf would fall down and she'd be shivering under the table.


I'd spent nearly 3 years with this wonderful kittencat as company. She was mine. She'd talk back to me and no one else, she'd follow me around the house and we had a very special bond. I'd miss her as much as she missed me. I especially loved waking up in the morning to find her perched on my shoulder, staring at me with "WAKE UP.. I NEED FEEDING!!" expression. She was always so kind not to paw at me, would patiently wait there for hours until I felt the need to be horizontal. Soli, on the other hand, would have no qualms on jumping on you, pawing you or even biting you to get attention.


She developed FLUTD (Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease) back in November. Poor thing started to go to the loo indoors, which she'd never done before. You could tell she'd suddenly lost that spark of wonderment and fun. She constantly needed the loo, blood started to go everywhere and she just wanted to curl up and be loved. I spent many an hour massaging her belly for her, something she came to really enjoy. Feline cystitis is supposedly ridiculously painful. Problem was she was causing it herself. She'd been stressed out by two local bully toms, and the situation just got worse. We tried every medical technique, drugs, tests over the next few months. I refused point blank to give in to drastic options. She'd perk up a little, then suddenly all hell would once again break loose. I even tried making her an in-door cat which just plain stressed her out even more. I knew I was running out of options fast.


I thought things were better, then a few days ago I came home to what was such an upsetting scene; she was cowering under the table and there were blood spots littered across the living room floor. I just couldn't take it any more, it played on my mind for a few days; I didn't care about the mess, I just couldn't bring myself to put her through more pain. Mum accompanied me to the vets and I then spent the next few hours in floods of tears. I had a lovely cuddle with her before saying goodbye and I'll never ever forget her.




I knew I'd done the right thing. Although, that is the first and last time I ever want to play god. I was glad to have had her in my life, albeit a short period and I hope that she was happy too. I feel odd today, such a surreal feeling to think she will not be there when I get home any more. I have to try and remember the great moments, and perhaps one day I'll feel up to finding another stray in her honour as I'm sure she'd be quite upset to know there's no one sitting on her favourite patch of the sofa.