Bon Voyage

Tomorrow we set sail for the West Midlands for it is the land of my forefathers, and of my forefathers' forefathers. Well, some of them anyway.

Mac has decided he needs a change of scenery while he recuperates from surgery, so we're off visiting for a few days.

Our itinerary is as follows:

Thursday: Travel to Birmingham. Try to get some work done and fail miserably due to family chaos factor. Meet up with friends for drinky-poos.

Friday: Try to get some work done and fail miserably due to hangover from drinky-poos.

Saturday: Travel to Manchester. Try to remain sane and fail miserably due to in-laws chaos factor.

Sunday: Begin long and arduous house hunting process in anticipation of our move away from the Big Smoke. Try to enjoy estate agent banter and fail miserably due to estate agents' alternative view of reality disorder.

Monday onwards: location TBA.

My trusty laptop will be accompanying me, but whether I manage to get any blogging done in between the travelling and the chaos remains to be seen. I'll be in touch once I reach dry land.

Domestic Bliss

The next time my dearly beloved husband decides it would be a good idea to put the empty butter back into the fridge, I am kicking him out. He's on his final warning.

Is this just a man thing, or is the pointless retention of empty food packaging not gender specific?

May I also take this opportunity to apologise to the lovely man in our local butter-selling shop, who had to suffer a pre-breakfast me, complete with yesterday's clothes and pillow creases still on my face.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am grumpy from oversleeping and therefore getting no work done this morning. No sirree.

Apologies also to Mr Gandalf. I do know that there are more important issues in the world - just not before breakfast.

Use Only Under Adult Supervision

There's been a serious cheese sandwich related incident. With blood and everything. I have to tell you, it doesn't look good.

Send plasters urgently. And antiseptic products. And maybe some gossip magazines.

In other kitchen news, don't buy decaffeinated teabags, for they are the work of the devil.

I think that about covers it.

Ground Force

On Saturday I had perfectly manicured nails and a lawn where grass flatly refused to grow.

Now I have pebbles where the lawn was, hands that not even a builder could be proud of, and aches in places I didn't know I had places. It's a job well done.

Walking on the pebbles is reminiscent of childhood beach holidays. Loathesome beaches where sandcastle building was merely a pipe dream, and sweaty plastic jelly shoes were the only way to ease the pain.

Mac cheerfully informs me that if he could get hold of some jelly shoes now he would wear them every day. I suspect that jelly shoes in his size would only be available from the kind of establishment that sells attire for high powered business men who relax by dressing as babies.

Let's hope it's a passing phase.

Way Too Much Information

It seems that every self-respecting blog must have one, so here it is: a list of random facts all about ME! It's a bit long winded and I do sympathise, so here's a summary for the time restricted reader: well educated, big boobs, kind of stupid.

1. I currently live in London. Part of me loves the hustle and bustle; the other part would quite like to kill every third person I see. You'd better hope you meet me on a good day.
2. Two years ago, for the sake of my sanity, I gave up a promising career in finance to make my own way in the world. Great move for my mental health; my bank balance has yet to reap the benefits.
3. I have been vegetarian since I was 13.
4. Seeing animals being killed or mistreated on TV usually makes me cry.
5. I am 5’4" and would not like to be an inch taller, although I would prefer trousers in some shops to be shorter.
6. I have size 32E boobs. I hated them until I reached my mid 20s, when I found a decent underwear shop. Now I’d be quite lonely without them.
7. According to a caricaturist at a wedding I recently attended, I look just like this. Seriously, it's like looking in a mirror.
   
   
8. I speak German. At least, I used to speak German; I’ve probably forgotten most of it by now. Scheiße.
9. I used to have my nose and the top of my ear pierced. I let them heal over after university in order to resemble a respectable professional.
10. I’m considering getting my nose pierced again. I think it must be a mid-life crisis making an early appearance.
11. I DIY. Admittedly I'm more proficient with the destruction than the construction, but I'm working on it.
    
12. I have 5 letters after my name: BA ACA. Eight years of my life was a high price to pay though.
13. I have a 2:1 degree in Economics, yet I still struggle with exchange rates when I go on holiday.
14. I wrote off my first car when a big lorry drove into the back of me.
15. I wrote off my second car when I drove into the back of a big lorry. Revenge was not as sweet as I had anticipated.
16. I was born in the Chinese Year of the Tiger *purr*
17. I am experiencing a mild biological urge to procreate. Since I’m essentially a rubbish person however, I’m seriously questioning the wisdom of Mother Nature on this one.
18. I am great with spreadsheets. It’s the only skill I will admit to with any degree of confidence. A bonus for job applications; not so impressive on the social front.
19. I hate text messaging (*grrr* stupid little keys and predictive text and lame abbreviations).
20. I would dearly love to own 2 Weimaraner dogs, but I’m going to see how #17 turns out first.
21. I have a genuine keeps-me-awake-at-night phobia about the house falling down. (How do the kitchen cupboards stay up with those little screws, how does the ceiling hold all that heavy furniture in the room above, and so on.) I don’t imagine it has a proper name. I am a medical curiosity.
22. I throw like a girl.
23. I would love to be able to sing well. I make up for it by doing a LOT of bad singing.
24. The best £2,000 I ever spent was on laser eye surgery.
25. I have a terrible memory for what I’m supposed to be doing today, what I did in recent days, financial data, all of the academic and professional information I have ever learned, and most of the conversations I have allegedly had. I have to write everything down like an old person.
26. I have an excellent memory for faces and song lyrics. All the essentials then.
27. My favourite gadget is ‘my’ coffee machine. Oh yes, freshly ground coffee at the push of a button. (Strictly speaking it was my Christmas gift to Mac, but I have since adopted it – marriage is a wonderful institution.)
28. I’m scared of hairdressers. They intimidate me with their crazy talk of choppy fringes and beach holidays.
29. I went to a single sex grammar school. Contrary to received wisdom at the time, this made me neither posh nor lesbian.
30. I tend to shout a lot; I can’t help it. My husband euphemistically terms it being passionate. I can also be quite shy, hence the blog title. I’m not sure if it makes sense, but I don’t care and you can’t make me ;-)

The Eagle Has Landed

Yes, the tiny bikini has arrived and it's...well...it's TINY.

Cons:

• Did I mention how tiny it is?
• No matter how far I run and how many sit ups I do, my belly will never achieve that "I've only eaten a tissue since last Thursday" look that is required for such a bikini.
• The waxing. Don't even mention the waxing.

Pros:

• I don't have cellulite. At least I can't see any cellulite from where I'm standing, and that's the main thing.
  
• I have more than my fair share of boobage to detract the eye away from my midriff. It's like sleight of hand but with fewer card tricks and more cleavage.
• It has my husband's seal of approval.
  
  
  

Oh dear, I'm sure I wouldn't be this shallow if I had something meaningful like having babies to think about.

Um...

Where did that come from? Getting broody can sneak up on you at the strangest times.

How Convenient

You Belong in London
A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything.
No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)

Visit From Mother

When did parents become such hard work? They just never stop – all five of them (including the in-laws and soon-to-be-stepmother).

You take them out for the day - walk them for miles and miles - yet the minute they return they manage to find parts of your home that require urgent sweeping/oiling/sanding.

You cook dinner, and before coffee is served they’ve disappeared into the garden for a spot of “light pruning”.

They are wearing me out! I’m sure they weren’t always like this.

I suspect they’re all building up for a difficult retirement phase, where they wear at least two home-knitted cardigans regardless of season, eat only boiled food and buy Eminem albums because “it’s got a good beat”.

Wedding Bells

MY DAD IS GETTING MARRIED!! After a mere quarter of a century of living in sin he’s finally decided to take the plunge again. No point in rushing into anything I suppose.

So, the lovely lunatic who I think of as being my stepsister will actually be my stepsister at long last, which is warm and fuzzy.

More worryingly though, I will have a stepmother.

My dad’s partner and I have a somewhat chequered past, but after the first horrendous decade or so, we started to get on. The last decade has been much better, and I’m happy to say that we’re pretty close now.

But – stepmother – it has such evil connotations. It sounds so mean and scheming and you-shan’t-go-to-the-ball.

Looking on the bright side, I will need a new outfit. Must dash – only around 90 shopping days to go.

Previously On 24

The second series of 24 on DVD is ruining my life. It's worse than a crack addiction; one episode is never enough. We were up until 2.30am watching it yesterday, and it's taken large doses of caffeine before I could even think about switching on the PC this morning.

We have just 2 episodes remaining, but I have been reliably informed that there is a massive cliffhanger at the end of this series, so it looks as though I'll have to keep the diary free next week for the third series.

Prior to my 24 fix, we went to see Derren Brown who was amazing. I won't spoil it by giving away any details, but if you get the chance it's well worth the experience.

A friendly word of advice: if you do go to see Derren Brown and get picked to go up on stage, please don't try to make jokes about being a "lift and escalator consultant" that only lift and escalator consultants will understand. It's been tried, it didn't work, and it was embarrassing for all concerned.

Wishful Thinking

You know, there's just something about spending £49 on a tiny bikini that makes a girl want to lose a few pounds. Especially when she's actually planning on wearing the thing in public in a month's time.

However, with no specific diet planned, a stash of dark chocolate in the fridge, and a strong aversion to sit ups, actual weight loss would appear somewhat unlikely.

In a fit of madness I recently bought Paul McKenna's book I Can Make You Thin. It has great reviews, although so far I have been too lazy to read it, or even listen to the accompanying CD. Perhaps if I sleep with it under the pillow it will help.

In the meantime, do let me know if washboard-flat stomachs go out of fashion.

Housemaid's Knee

I have my in-laws coming to stay for the weekend. Affectionately known as the Griswolds due to the comedy mayhem that seems to surround them, they are due to descend in an hour or so.

Of course, this means that the house has had to be cleaned. I hate housework; it’s such a thankless task. People only notice when it’s not done. Why can’t they be a little more appreciative?

...Oh my! How thoughtful of you to clean up every last piece of crud from the floor in honour of our visit. That must have taken simply ages with your crappy vacuum cleaner that has all the suction power of an asthmatic hamster with a straw. And made all the worse by your unfortunate white carpet/moulting cat/husband who insists on wearing big black fluffy socks combo. Here, come and have a sit down while I mop your brow...

Oh yes, and did I forget to mention that I have a teensy-weensy hangover?

Avert Your Eyes

Oh, the world is a superficial place. Why must people point and snigger just because I have a coldsore?

I haven’t actually seen them do it, of course, but you can be sure it happens. Some of them even hide their children’s eyes and cross over the road to avoid me. Probably.

*sigh*

Still, at least a pigeon didn’t poo all over my jeans, t-shirt and iPod while I was dozing in the garden. Poor Mac.
( )

Doing Something Amazing

I'm feeling very proud of myself. I gave blood this week for the first time.

It's been on my To Do list for some years now, but the fact that Mac received blood both during and after his heart surgery has finally spurred me into action.

They struggled to find a vein at first, and the sensation of my lovely blood bubbling away down the tube was not very pleasant, but it's nothing compared to everything I've seen Mac go through recently, so I didn't allow myself to feel bad about it.

In fact I didn't cry, I didn't faint, and I didn't scoff all the tea and biscuits afterwards. I thank you.

Guess Who's Back

There’s been no blogging from me for a while now. As I slip back into normality, I have really felt like blogging about day to day life again, but haven’t known quite how to summarise what has happened over the last few weeks, so I'll keep it simple.

At the age of 29 my husband has had major open heart surgery to replace his aortic valve. He’s recovering well.

That ought to cover it for now. I'm sure I'll have more to say about it at a later date.

Wooo! Back in business!