keris stainton

2007 in review

I know I'm really late with this, but so far 2008 has been taken up with illness and faffing...

I pinched this meme from Ms Mac (and I think I also did it last year, but who can be bothered to check? Not me, I'm sure)...

1. What did you do in 2007 that you never did before?

Walked a half marathon.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Didn't make any. And no.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Um, possibly. Susan - how old's Olivia? (Bad friend? Me?)

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Sadly, yes. David's granny.

5. What countries did you visit?

France, Spain and America. Get me.

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?

More than enough money. (In fact this - which Michael Neill calls "abundance" - is my primary goal for 2008. So sick of just getting by. You'll be hearing much more about this, gentle readers.)

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Dates? I rarely know what day it is, let alone the date.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Raising £1500 sponsorship for the New York walk. (Thanks again to all who coughed up.)

9. What was your biggest failure?

Failing to have a novel published. Again.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Probably. I certainly had a cough for about a month...

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Either my memory's terrible, or 2007 was particularly boring ... um, I'm rather fond of the mug I picked up with the last dregs of my spends in New York Airport (see, I can't even remember where we flew from!).

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

All my lovely blog friends, of course. Harry, who finally - finally! - started talking.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Same as last year, I imagine.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Mortgage, council tax, Virgin, electricity, gas, water, preschool fees, paying off debts, buildings, contents, car, life insurances...

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Seeing my essay in Perfectly Plum.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?

The theme to Pingu. Or New York, New York, as heard on the cruise in, um, New York.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? The same, I think
b) thinner or fatter? Very slightly fatter, probably
c) richer or poorer? Hard to say. Probably neither, just marginally more relaxed about money.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Fiction writing.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Titting about on the internet..?

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Here, there, London for a wedding.

21. What was your favourite month of 2007?

They all blended into one, really.

22. Did you fall in love in 2007?

Only more in love with people I already love. You know, like Bradley Whitford (Josh and Danny? Twice as much to love!)

23. How many one-night stands?

Heh.

24. What was your favourite TV programme?

It started slowly, but Studio 60 springs to mind.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

I don't know him well enough to really hate him, but I'm not loving Mike Huckerbee's work.

26. What was the best book you read?

Split By A Kiss by Luisa Plaja

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Musical discovery? I'm not sure I heard *any* new music in 2007, how sad is that? Oh, I tell you one music-related memory - driving and dancing to New Shoes by Paolo Nutini and looking in the mirror and seeing Harry dancing too.

28. What did you want and get?

A nice shiny new telly.

29. What did you want and not get?

Everything else.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

Lumme. I think I only saw one at the cinema and that was Knocked Up. I enjoyed that though.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

No idea. And 36.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Having more than enough money.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

Personal fashion concept? Much like today, I spent 2007 mostly modelling hungover tramp.

34. What kept you sane?

Blog friends - particularly Diane, Luisa and Lisa - Michael Neill, and O magazine.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

<--- Obviously.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

I can't think of anything specific. Many, many things.

37. Who did you miss?

My mum.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

Well I met Lisa, finally!

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007

If you build it, they will come. Um, no. My laziness will expand to fit the space available?

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year

For Now from Avenue Q:

Nothing lasts,
Life goes on,
Full of surprises.
You'll be faced with problems of all shapes and sizes.
You're going to have to make a few compromises...
For now...
But only for now!

For now we're healthy.
For now we're employed.
For now we're happy...
If not overjoyed.
And we'll accept the things we cannot avoid, for now...
But only for now!

Don't stress,
Relax,
Let life roll off your backs
Except for death and paying taxes,
Everything in life is only for now!

My destiny

Has you ever experienced something as a result of a series of such random events that it can only have been destiny?

This morning I went to put on the stretchy jeans that I wear, um, every day and remembered I'd put them in the wash basket (actually, they went of their own accord), but hadn't  yet washed them. So I had to put on my exceedingly baggy jeans.

Later I invited David's mum to lunch. Once we'd collected Harry, it was pretty warm and she said it would be better to go to her house because she had frozen food from Morrisons.

At her house I was sitting on the patio having a drink and Harry was running around the garden. He kept bringing me things and then, after a while, he wanted to show me a little windmill, but he couldn't get it out of the ground. So I crossed the lawn and sat on a bench near the windmill.

By then grandma had pulled the windmill out for him and he brought it over to me to blow.

I leaned forward to blow it and...

A bird pooed down the back of my jeans.

Now does anyone know why a bird pooing down my jeans is my destiny?

More Knittens

I can't believe some of you actually want to buy them. You're so sweet!

I was thinking £5 including P&P. Does that sound reasonable?

Off to finish another in front of Springwatch. Oh, the glamour.

Can I interest you in a Knitten?

Lord, I'm exhausted. After yesterday's cry for help post (thank you for all your fantastic comments), I pootled over to the new Shiny site, Crafty Crafty, which led me here, where I was struck with an overwhelming urge to knit a kitten (don't you hate it when that happens?).

I knitted frantically when pregnant, but the urge wore off as soon as the boy was out and I haven't picked up my needles since, but once I'd copied down the pattern I didn't stop knitting until I had a newly knitted kitty pal. (You know I wanted to say pussy pal then, but I was worried about searches. Oops.)

He's not quite right, having a gammy leg where I sewed it up wrong and some blue bits where I ran out of white stuffing, but he's very cute all the same, dontcha think? (You can sew a face on of course, but I like him without. Also I'm even crapper at sewing than I am at knitting.)

I'd quite like to get better at it and see if I can sell some to supplement my sponsorship.

I need a hard drive for my brain

Do you ever wish you could just switch your mind off for an hour or twelve?

I've got so much to think about, family, work, money, health, the house, big (huge) future plans (choosing a sodding school). Everything involves reading (well, it does for me) and thinking and discussing and pondering and planning and, yes, obsessing. I never get a moment's peace!

I've been meditating (a little bit - I can only manage about five minutes before I get antsy) and doing yoga again, but I still can't switch off. Luckily it doesn't stop me going to sleep (after five minutes thinking about comforting Daniel following Saturday's terrible disappointing usually sorts me out ... as it were), but if I wake up in the night then it's open season.

If there was just a switch that I could flip to transfer everything for safekeeping from, say, 8pm to 8am I'd be a very happy bunny.

D'oh! A deer...

Just realised I haven't yet written about the exciting events here last Saturday.

I was sitting in bed and, in the factory car park opposite our house, spotted what I thought was a large dog. I then realised it wasn't a large dog, but I wasn't quite awake enough to tell David what it was, so instead I just sat bolt upright and said, "Look! Look! Look!" David looked. And said, "Oh my god." For it was a deer.

I jumped up and, realising the car park gates were open, ran downstairs and rang the factory. "You probably already know this, but there's a deer in your car park." "A deer? Is there? Oh, bloody hell, I see it now!" I suggested they lock the gates so it didn't get out onto the main road.

After running back upstairs to have another look, I rang the RSPCA. They gave me an emergency number and also told me to ring the police. The police sounded utterly disinterested, but said they'd check it out.

Parking Harry on the window shelf so he too could enjoy the sight of a wild animal frolicking amongst the parked cars, I rang the RSPCA emergency line and got a recorded message. "If the animal is injured or being abused, press 1. Otherwise press 2." I pressed 2. "If the animal is causing a nuisance in your garden, press 1. Otherwise press 2." 2. "If the animal you're calling about is a snake, press 1. Otherwise press 2." 2. "If the animal you're calling about is a bat, press 1. Otherwise press 2." I was slightly concerned that we were going to have to go through ever flamin' animal in the world, before I could press 1, but the next message was "If you are calling about any other wild animal, press 1." I pressed 1.

At some point during the above, the deer wandered out of the car park (blokey having not yet shifted his arse and locked the gate) so I dispatched David to chivvy it back in. Before he made it outside, it went back in of its own accord, robbing me of the surely hilarious sight of David chivvying a deer, but it was probably for the best.

The deer then stuck its head through the railings directly opposite our house, causing me to worry for a second that a phone call to the fire brigade would be next, but it just had a bit of a sniff (at our car!) and then returned to bounding around and jumping over the small barrier.

It was so beautiful. It didn't seem to be scared, just a bit disconcerted. Finally the security guard came and locked the gates and, along with another fella, they did some chivvying of their own towards a gate at the back of the car park that I've never noticed before, but that obviously leads on to some parkland behind the factory. Once the deer spotted the gate it happily tripped through it and the security guard and Harry applauded.

I was still on hold to the RSPCA's emergency line. I hung up.

Duvet day (I'd like a)

Today I woke up feeling a bit ... crummy. I had a lie-in, but couldn't get back to sleep. Got up and had croissants for breakfast and then went to Clitheroe, which is a lovely place, but I couldn't get up much enthusiasm. Had lunch, came home, felt even crummier.

Harry went to bed. David went to bed (wearing his iPod). I sat on the sofa and decided I'd just read. Read read read until Harry woke up. Could be 2 hours. Couldn't remember the last time I just sat and read for a couple of hours...

About 20 minutes later my eyes were burning. I was yawning. I went to bed. I slept for over an hour. Possibly an hour and a half. David woke up. He woke me up and then we woke Harry up. It was 4 o'clock. We'd all slept the afternoon away. But.

I'm still tired. And I still feel a bit crummy. And I want to spend the day in bed just reading. And maybe writing. Perhaps on Tuesday...

I knew this day would come

I'm going to have to kill my husband.

We have this running joke where he mentions a woman's name, someone he works with, and I say, "Huh. You've never mentioned her before." And act all jealous, like.

Today I rang him to tell him he'd forgotten to take Harry's shoes to Grandma's and Harry was going to have to go to the park in slippers. Then I said, "Where are you?" and he said, "We're stuck in traffic." So I said, "Who you with?" and he said, "Elizabeth." So I said, "Elizabeth" in a kind of squeaky, sing-songy, sarcastic voice, which was meant to imply, "Ooh, Elizabeth, I love you, Elizabeth," kind of thing. Mature, I know.

Can you guess what I'm going to say?

Yep. He had me on speakerphone.

Nooooooooooooooooo!

I've never met Elizabeth (at least, I don't think so) and I begged him to explain to her that it's sort of an in-joke and I'm not demented (although it's certainly possible that I am). Or you know, maybe I have met her and now she thinks the "Elizabeth" was taking the piss because I didn't like her (rather than, you know, not remembering her at all). He said she's going on holiday and she won't remember, but if she's anything like me she'll spend the entire holiday wondering what she's done to make me say her name in such a facetious manner.

I'm going to have to kill him.

What the...?

Okay. I've  literally just got out of bed and I had to come and write this down because last night I had the World's Maddest Dreams!

My in-laws paper "boy" is about 30 and is a bit odd. Let's call him Nick. I dreamt David wanted trombone lessons and discovered that Nick was a great trombonist. Nick agreed to give David lessons and they were hashing out the terms (£2 per lesson, 2 lessons a week, 77 lessons required) when David, who was shirtless, lifted his arm and Nick licked his armpit. The negotiations broke down.

I was incubating hundreds of tiny bright red ducklings in a radiator.

I was "dating" Seamus from Any Dream Will Do, but he was living on my dad's roof with his brother. My parents' neighbour who I haven't seen for years, came round to check him out then emailed me to tell me he was a "hottie".

I had befriended a load of animals who seemed to be living in a giant cage in my in-laws garden. I would go outside to chat to a tiny black (talking) pig and a (talking) chicken who would sit on my head and dangle upside down to look me in the face.

What the hell did I eat last night?

Boom de de boom boom

In the comments to the last post, Diane wrote: "The gasman?? fiats?? eagles?? We sang one about "Cross over the road my friend, ask the Lord his strength to lend, his compassion has no end, cross over the road..." Ah, those were the days."

We sang Cross Over the Road too. It was one of my favourites, I think. (And what was the one about cherubim and seraphim...?) but of course, I then had to google the others. (What - no, really, what? - did we ever do without Google?)

First of all - it is beaver! (Maureen, do you know this one? It's Canadian!)

Land of the silver birch, home of the beaver
Where still the mighty moose wanders at will
Blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more.*

Boom de de boom boom
Boom de de boom boom
Boom de de boom boom
Bo-o-o-o-m

[Lyrics from here where you can also hear the tune]

*This is kind of weird for me since I am Canadian and am hoping to return, but I doubt it meant much to me when I was 7...

Our headmaster, Mr Martin, used to play the guitar and particularly enjoyed the following two (neither of which I can find online, so you'll have to trust my memory):

Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the baby's lying
In his mother's arms, there'll be no crying
Shepherd's from afar, they do come [nigh?] him
Rocky Road-um, heyyy, a Rocky Road-um.

Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Rocky Road, a Rocky Road-um
Rocky Road-um, heyyy, a Rocky Road-um.

We really got into those Rocky Rocky Roads, as I'm sure you can imagine, and my sister's just reminded me that we used to do a Fonz-style thumbs up to the "heyyy" bits.

Now this one's just weird:

Bom bom bom bom bom ba-dom bom
Christ is the Lord of the smallest atom
Christ is the Lord of outer space
Christ is the Lord of [something or other]
Christ is the Lord of the human race.

I wasn't sure about the rest because it sounded too mad, but my sister remembers it even better than me (despite being two years younger, what's that about?):

From the greatest star to the coffee bar
and the length of the Berlin Wall
From the Village Green to the Asian Scene
Christ is the Lord of all. 

Modern hymns, eh? Give me To Be A Pilgrim any day. Ugh, I'll be singing that all day now. Everybody! He who would valiant be, 'gainst all disaster...

Brave Topolini, vroom, vroom, va-ra!

I've probably mentioned before that I absolutely love the classic Fiat 500. I was reminded that there's a new version coming out later this year so I had a google around and now, well, I'm a happy blogger... (And I'm feeling much better, thanks. Still not 100%, but better than yesterday.)

I've loved Fiat 500s since we sang a song about them at school. I always remembered it as Hey, Topolini, vroom, vroom, va-ra!, but I've just found the lyrics (which will follow, cos they're fab) and it's Brave Topolini. They're just so cute and happy-looking and also, despite their tiny size, glamorous - look! Loving the yellow pantsuit.

Plus I discovered the Fiat 500 station wagon years ago and I so desperately want one ... but I think they're pretty rare.

So are the new ones as cute? Carry on over the cut to find out (and for the Brave Topolini lyrics).

Normal service will resume ..

.. later today. I hope. In other words, I'll stop being the Brendan Cole of blogging* and get back to my cheery Bunton-esque self.

I'm reading the utterly wonderful Lauren Child's** latest Clarice Bean book to cheer myself up and there is some good advice contained in one of the chapter headings: 'When you get to the end of your rope - let go.'

This is fairly similar to the new attitude I had already planned which is encompassed by the Darkness*** song 'Givin' up, givin' up, givin' a f**k'.

Yes, the Lauren Child version is classier, but I can sing the Darkness one, making it easier to remember.

* By which I mean moaning and ranting, not filthy and naughty.

** Lauren Child is with the same agency as me. Do you think they'll have a Christmas party?

*** Yes, I am aware of the multiple woes that have befallen my beloved Darkness, but I am currently in denial. I will no doubt blog about it at a future date when I am feeling stronger.

Bed-lam

Couldn't face blogging last night. Couldn't face anything but a glass of wine, a yummy tea and some Gilmore Girls.

Yesterday my sister came round. We sent David out for bigger screws and some No More Nails just in case. They screws were no good so we tried the No More Nails. No good. Me and my sister went out for more screws. They were no good either. So we rang the mother-in-law and Harry stayed there again last night.

My sister said the screws needed to be longer because they weren't 'grabbing' the wood. This morning I went to B&Q for longer screws. They grabbed the wood all right. And then they split it. I reached the end of my rope and decided I'd rather spend £80 on a new sodding bed than another minute on this sodding bed. I went out to the car to go to Argos. I decided to check the website first because an unfruitful journey to Argos might just tip me over the edge. The beds 'cannot be reserved for store pickup'. I don't know if this means you have to have them delivered or that you can buy them instore, but not reserve them, but my brain was pounding so hard I couldn't be bothered finding out.

I rang my aunty who said we should put Harry down on a mattress and explain to him that the shop doesn't have any beds at the moment and as soon as they're available we'll get him one. My aunty refused to accept this would be a difficult concept for a 2-year-old and instead disparaged my parenting skills. (She thinks I'm weak. Granted I'm weak with the mother-in-law, but not with Harry.) Put the phone down and banged my head on the wall to remind me not to ring unsupportive family members at times of great stress. Went out to the car again. Came back in when I realised I didn't know where I was going. Decided a ready-bed (sleeping bag type thing) would solve the immediate problem and then would suggest to the inlaws that since this is all entirely their fault they might like to drive to Ikea tomorrow to pick up the £28 bed that won't fit in our (teeny) car.

Phoned shop. Reserved ready-bed. Drove to shop. It wasn't a ready-bed, it was a blow-up bed. Tried not to cry. Bought tiny quilt. Drove home. Woke up both sleeping boys (David's hungover) in a grumpy manner and then came and typed this in an even grumpier manner.

Am now going to drink tea and mutter darkly for the rest of the evening. Oh no, wait! Strictly Come Dancing's on. Thank Christ for Strictly Come Dancing.

Dum de dum dum ...

*whistles* Nothing in particular to blog about today, but didn't want to be a stranger.

Lovely husband had arranged for us to go out in Manchester last night, but we got a flat tyre on the way to dropping the boy off, so instead of laughter with Richard Herring, David had an evening on the side of the road in the pouring rain with the Green Flag man and I had an evening of Emmerdale with the mother-in-law. Fortunately it was sorted our fairly quickly. Not quick enough to make it to see Herring, but quick enough that me and D got to go out for a lovely dinner and much needed glass of vino.

What else? Mother-in-law upset me enormously by putting Harry in a big boy's bed at her house (where he stays one night a week). Did I tell her how upset I was? Nope. I spent most of Tuesday afternoon and evening snivelling and then, um, bottled it all up. It has meant, though, that for the sake of continuity (well that and the fact that he's screamed like a loon at bedtime every night for the past week), we've had to switch Harry to a bed in our house too. Have we got a bed? Why, yes. My sister handed one down. Only we can't manage to "build" it. Fortunately she's coming round tomorrow to do it for us. If only we could find the screws.

Last time she came - a couple of weeks ago - she brought a wardrobe for Harry's room. But in order to put the wardrobe in we have to take the changing unit out and in order to take the changing unit out we have to empty the drawers and cupboard of clothes and blankets and about a million books and, frankly, who's got the time? I'm doing it gradually. Which means that in Harry's room there's a cot, a dismantled bed and a half-emptied changing unit. On the landing is half of the unit I built for Harry (the rest of it's in our bedroom) and most of the toys that used to be in his bedroom. The wardrobe's in the hall. Sigh.

Am busy so here's a meme

My friend Moe tagged me with this one. Gee, thanks, Moe :) Apparently, I have nine layers and they are based on the following:

LAYER ONE:

Name: Well, you know that.
Birthdate: 25 May
Birthplace: Winnipeg, Canada
Current Location: Manchester-ish
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 4'11". Yes, really
Righty or Lefty: Righty
Zodiac Sign: Gemini (bubbly, bright, witty, intelligent and charming - all true!)

LAYER TWO:

Your heritage: Scottish/Scouse
The shoes you wore today: Slippers - it's raining, I won't be going out
Your weakness: I can resist anything except temptation
Your fears: Death
Your perfect pizza: Prawns and black olives (and sweetcorn)
Goal you would like to achieve: Pay off my debts

LAYER THREE:

Your most overused phrase: "Hang on a minute ..."
Your first waking thoughts: e-mail!
Your best physical feature: Smile or, let's face it, bosoms
Your most missed memory: Everything happy from my childhood. My childhood memories are mostly sad ones. I think my sister got the happy ones.

LAYER FOUR:

Pepsi or Coke: Neither. Don't do fizzy drinks anymore.
McDonald's or Burger King: Burger King very occasionally. McDonalds doesn't even taste like food.
Single or group dates: Dates? Ha ha ha! Single.
Adidas or Nike: Adidas. Rockin' the three stripes, or whatever it is
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Don't really do iced tea round these parts.
Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate. Duh.
Cappuccino or coffee: Decaf latte. Coffee's too strong.

LAYER FIVE:

Smoke: Never.
Cuss: Yep. I was planning to stop before Harry starts talking, but now I just think f*ck it.
Sing: Badly
Take a shower everyday: 'Fraid not.
Do you think you have been in love: Well I'm married so yep.
Want to go to college: Went as a mature student (aged 27)
Want to get married: Done it.
Believe in yourself: Outwardly, yes. Inwardly, not so much.
Get motion sickness: No. I can read in the car. Thank goodness.
Think you are attractive: I have my moments.
Think you are a health freak: Ha ha!
Get along with your parent(s): My mum was my best friend. My dad is a space cadet (but he's funny)
Like thunderstorms: I don't mind them. There was one yesterday actually.
Play an instrument: No. Always wanted to, never managed it. One day I'd like to learn the saxaphone. Or accordion.

LAYER SIX:

In the past month have you...
Drank alcohol: Yes.
Smoked: No.
Done a drug: No.
Made Out: Only with my husband (see: "drank alcohol")
Gone on a date: No.
Gone to the mall?: No.
Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: No
Eaten sushi: Sadly not.
Been on stage: No.
Been dumped: No.
Gone skating: No.
Made homemade cookies: I'm about to go and do that now (well, homemade out of a box)
Gone skinny-dipping: Never done that. Probably never will.
Dyed your hair: No.
Stolen anything: No. (God, what a boring month.)

LAYER SEVEN:

Have you ever...
Played a game that required removal of clothing: No.
If so, was it mixed company: -
Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Yes, but not lately.
Been caught doing something: Yes (stealing from the change jar when I was a kid)
Been called a tease: Don't think so ..
Gotten beaten up: By my sister (not lately)
Shoplifted: Yes, but with the permission of the manager when I worked at Our Price! Seriously.
Changed who you were to fit in: God, who hasn't done that?

LAYER EIGHT:

Age you hope to be married: I was 23, which was stupid. No-one should be allowed to get married under 30.
Numbers and Names of Children: Harry aged 2
Describe your Dream Wedding: Moe put "Eloping to Hawaii" and that sounds good to me too.
How do you want to die: Of exhaustion. In bed with George Clooney.
What do you want to be when you grow up: Taller.
What country would you most like to visit: Despite everything, it's always the US.

LAYER NINE:

Number of drugs taken illegally: Eep. One. Hope Aunty Barb's not reading this.
Number of people I could trust with my life: This is sad, but I'm thinking none.
Number of CDs that I own: Only a few left. Sold the rest on ebay following iPod purchase.
Number of piercings: Used to have my ears pierced, but think they've probably healed up now.
Number of tattoos: None. But one day ...
Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: Oooh. Quite a few in the last year. Let's say five. Oh. Not that many after all.
Number of scars on my body: A couple, but only tiny ones.
Number of things in my past that I regret: God loads, but I try not to think about them.

I forgot to tag anyone! Hmmm ... Severine!

Stuff I'm loving

Didn't I ask you to remind me about The Apprentice and Loose Women? And did you? No, you did not. Pah. Anyhoo, the new series of the US version of The Apprentice is as Trump-tastic as ever. The, um, applicants this time seem to be even more loosely attached to reality (and anything approaching charm) than ever. I mean, in the first series there was Bill to root for and I had a sneaking admiration for Southern charmer Troy and in the second series there was .. um .. well there was Raj (a bit eccentric, but a decent sort) and .. probably some other people too. But this series. Gah. They're all dreadful. Hang on, there must be one. Oh, Bren seems to at least have a sense of humour about the whole thing, but apart from him ... Danny seemed quite human but he got fired early doors. The girl with the hair - Erin - seems okay, but she does this pouty girlie thing and flirts with Trump which shouldn't be encouraged. (Though he does flirt back so it has a certain car-crash quality.)

Still if you're not watching it, you should be. There's been a homophobic rant (from a guy chastised by Trump for chewing tobacco at a children's event and while dressed as a clown - genius), Audrey's speech about how when she was growing up all the girls hated her "Because I'm so beautiful", Tana - a white sales executive from Des Moines - saying "Now we be talkin'!" to a black rap star.

Can I just mention that I thought John won it (because I thought I saw a picture of him in People magazine saying he was the winner) but he was fired last week so - happy me! - I didn't know the winner, but just then when I googled Tana to find out what she does for a living, I accidentally saw the sex of the winner, even though I deliberately unfocussed my eyes to prevent it happening! Damn stupid eyes. And when will I learn? When? (I'd like to add a pic of Audrey so you can decide if she is so beautiful, but I'm afraid to google again.)

Anyway. Loose Women. It's a joy. I love it on a daily basis. I make sure Trashionista's done or, if it's a non-working day, Harry's in bed, make my lunch and sit down and wallow. Except that Daniel O'Donnell was on today. I don't understand Daniel O'Donnell. He reminds me of a less-intelligent, less-attractive Dougal from Father Ted. And his new song's about having a "crush" on someone. Surely he's about 50! Isn't that too old to use the word "crush".

In other news, I've got a new crush* - David Tennant. Yes, I know Marie's been banging on about him for months, but I've never really seen the appeal. He's cute and all and he seems nice and funny, but he's got a bit of a weak chin/jaw and that kind of puts me off (I never said I wasn't shallow). But I've had a couple of saucy dreams about him and then watched him on Who Do You Think You Are? last night and .. hubba. And, yes, a beard! Covers up that weak chin a treat. Suppose I'm going to have to get Casanova on DVD now, aren't I?

* c in a circle Whatever Sista (RIP)

Magazine meme

While catching up on the few hundred blog posts I missed while I was away for a week (this blog-o-sphere is a busy place) I found I'd been tagged for a meme by Stu: magazines I read.

This is a funny one because I buy loads, loads, of magazines. I've always been magazine mad and now that I actually write for mags I've got an excuse (a tax-deductible excuse!) to buy them all. And I do. So instead of telling you about the magazines I read (the reason for which will soon become clear), I thought I'd give you a magazine tour of my house instead.

This is the pile of mags on the floor in my office. These are magazines that I've either yet to read, or that I've read and want to pitch to, or that I've read and seen something I want to tear out but can't remember what. It's never less than a foot high and this pile feeds into the by-the-loo reading (current by-the-loo reading: June's Vanity Fair).

This rack is behind my computer on my desk. The bottom rack contains the magazines with my articles in. The middle rack is for O magazine and the top is for body+soul plus a couple of other US mags I like (Weekend and O At Home)

This is the top of my desk. This is where I 'file' the most recent issue of whatever magazine I buy. They're sort of in alphabetical order and sort of ordered by theme (i.e. teen mags should be together). This came in useful the other day when I received a copy of Location, Location magazine, which I had a subscription to, but which I thought had run out. I checked in the box and the most recent issue was April. So I was able to tell them they'd missed five issues of my subscription (unless of course there are a couple lurking in the 'to be read' pile, but let's gloss over that). Every now and then I plan to systematically go through these boxes and send a pitch to every magazine, but it never happens.

Finally, my pride and joy and a serious deterrent to me ever being able to emigrate - my collection of O magazines. Aren't they just so pretty? And, yes, I do refer to them (occasionally). I'm only missing about two. Sigh. They make me happy.

So now you've seen the frankly foolish amount of magazines I buy, how many do I actually read? Two. Yep, if we're talking cover-to-cover, there are only two and they're both American: O - the Oprah Magazine and body+soul. Oprah is far more intelligent, insightful and feminist than any British women's magazine I've ever read. In fact, the only British mag that comes close is Psychologies. body+soul is, yes, a bit new-agey, but it's also inspiring and intelligent. It looks pretty too. I love Red magazine, but I must admit I flick through it, rather than read it cover to cover.

(One other magazine I have read from cover to cover and would like to again if I could find somewhere that actually sells it, is another US magazine, Writer's Digest.)

Exciting Update!

Thank you to everyone who weighed in on this. The Great Plains dresses arrived today and they're lovely and - yes! - flattering! Amazingly they even come to just below the knee so wouldn't even need to be shortened. Unprecedented. But there's just one problem. Well, two problems. They give me a cleavage which is a bit - actually a lot - excessive for a family wedding. So now I'm looking at minimiser bras. But I've never used one of these before. Don't they just rearrange the boobage to, say, under your arms? Cos if that's the case I'll never get the dress zipped up.

Of course now I need some shoes. I wanted these (possibly not in that odd colour)

but they're not available until mid-November, dammit!

On the music front, so far and against all expectations* I'm loving a couple of songs by Muse (thanks, Angie!), a Lily Allen (thanks, Stella!) and some Panic! At the Disco (thanks, Angie, again!). Taking inspiration from Bege's list, I also downloaded Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars and was delighted to find it was the song on the trailer for Grey's Anatomy a couple of weeks ago that I kept meaning to note down the lyrics of and look up on google. So now I don't have to. I also downloaded Monster and then David said, "You HATE that song" and sang a bit. He was right. I hate it.

*Muse were on the Brits a couple of years ago and to my ears it was just an unholy racket. Then my sister rang me and said, "Did you see Muse? Is that what they're calling music these days?!" Three words: Bay City Rollers.

What to Wear

In a couple of weeks David's brother's getting married and so I need a dress. I have got one dress, but it's a maternity dress and despite the flobbilyness (what? it's a word!) of my stomach, I'm not actually pregnant (It's a wrap dress, so I could get away with it, but I think I'd get bored of everyone nudging each other and asking H if he's ready for a little brother or sister).

I can tell you what I won't be wearing. I won't be wearing this.

[via Go Fug Yourself of course]

I've ordered three dresses. We'll see if any of them fits, but first you may vote on your favourite (and I reserve the right to ignore you).

This is my favourite. Because it's pink and I think this will be a really flattering shape on me (but I may well be wrong and it'll make me look like a pregnant German milkmaid - time will tell). Also, it was reduced to less than half price.

I love this one too and I've ordered a top in the same fabric, just in case the whole dress thing doesn't work out and I have to wear trousers.

I think this one is supposed to be a bridesmaid dress (yes, I mean the dress, not the lovely greeny suit). It's David's favourite and, as an added bonus, the straps are removable so I can whip them off later in the evening if I'm feeling fruity (this is never going to happen).

I really love this one too (it makes me think of the 'They Shoot Gilmores Don't They' ep of GG)

but I fear it would be disastrous with my ample chestage and so have refrained from ordering it.

Tune in next week for the ranting about stupid frigging dress sizes, busted zips, plan to attend wedding in pajamas, etc.

It's not big or clever but it is funny

I've just discovered this fab site featuring top graffiti from around, well, if not the world, then certainly Manchester.

It reminds me of my own personal favourites, seen sadly before the invention of the cameraphone.

On the gate of the park we hung out in as kids (didn't we, Angie?) - Sharon Smith* is a haw

On the wall outside Kwik Save - Lick me hoop

"Lick me hoop" became one of the most-used phrases in my old office (it wasn't a very grown-up office). It's the "me" that makes it a classic, don't you think?

* name changed cos I can't remember what it was

Call me an inventor!

I was a bit worried by Luisa's suggestion (in the comments to my last post) of Oyster-Link. I've heard of an Oyster card, but I didn't actually know what it was and I thought maybe it was along the same lines as my own marvellous invention. So I asked David and the conversation went like this:

Me: What's an Oyster card?
D: It's a bird with a long thin beak.
Me: That's an oyster catcher. What's an Oyster card?
D: It's a band that sang Don't Fear the Reaper.
Me: That's Blue Oyster Cult. What's an Oyster card?
D: It's like a wafer that you put an ice-cream in.
Me: That's a .. I don't know what that is, but it's not an Oyster card. What's an Oyster card?
D: It's the gay bar in Police Academy.
Me: That's the Blue Oyster. Ah, forget it.

As I came upstairs to google Oyster* Card he shouted, 'I know what it is! I can tell you!' I despair.

Anyway, it seems my invention hasn't yet been stolen, but this one - which I invented when I was about 10, has. Pah.

* The word "Oyster" looks really weird when you type it that many times.

Happy Anniversary* .. now piss off

My husband is lovely. No, really, he is.

For our wedding anniversary he made me an iPod playlist (the modern equivalent of a mix-tape) - we'd agreed not to buy each other anything, and I thought it was a lovely idea. Until I listened to it.

Goodbye Girl by Squeeze
Goodbye Stranger by Supertramp
I Love You, Goodbye by Thomas Dolby
I Can't Take It by Cheap Trick
and Kyle's Mom Is A Bitch from South Park (as D reminded me in the comments!)

I had a moment of 'well, that's a great way to break it to me!' but almost immediately realised that he wouldn't even have noticed (either that or he's sublimating his unhappiness into iPod playlists ..). When I told him he was (very) briefly mortified and then thoroughly amused.

But this one was perhaps a step too far - from Todd Rundgren's Tiny Demons:

One of them plays a piccolo in my ear
Another one makes me smell things that aren't there
And they know where to hide
And they know everything that's inside
Of my head
Tiny demons, inside me

Then again, that may explain the whole thing ...

* It is/was in February - I've been meaning to blog about this since then ...

The Meadow of Richard

A few weeks ago The Guardian asked readers to write in with funny family expressions, catchphrases and in-jokes. This reminded me of this from The West Wing Series 1 episode Mandatory Minimums (one of my favourites, with Josh's "regular Tuesday suit"):

Sam: You're not calm, Leo. You're acting like a nervous hoolelia.
Toby: A what?
Sam: May not be a word. May just be something my mother used to say.

It's also a good excuse to put in a pic of lovely Rob Lowe (of course he's a Hubba; patience my children).

There are many of these in my family and it's amazing to me how many me and my sister have picked up without even realising it. When me and David went to see .. can't remember what it's called .. film with Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, think it was the first one, the one that made them famous, they won an oscar for it (my brain is shouting "Cool Runnings!" but I know it's not that!) .. anyway. There's a bit when Matt Damon says "You like apples? Well how d'you like them apples?" I was the only person in the cinema who laughed. Turns out my mum used to say it because she picked it up when she lived in the US, but no-one else knew the expression. Huh.

My dad never turns a light on without saying, "Let's shed a bit of light on the subject" and now I have to stop myself from doing it too. My dad is also into Country & Western and laughs at long song titles that end with the word "Blues" so whenever I would moan about something, you know, "I wanted to go for a run today but it's raining and I fell over yesterday and hurt my knee and now I'm just going to put so much weight on I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes ..", my dad would say, "Blues". Yep. I do that too.

David's mum is the Queen of made-up words and expressions (though she doesn't accept it - even if it's a word only she knows, she still insists it's a real word). Like "tuckle". Example: "If Harry doesn't get a sleep today he's going to be all in a tuckle". "Upskittled". Example: ""If Harry doesn't get a sleep today he's going to be all upskittled." Um. Or, our favourite, "Dickie's Meadow" which is pretty much interchangeable with "Shit Creek", e.g. "If Harry doesn't get a sleep today we're going to be in Dickie's Meadow." There's also an amendment for if something's really bad, e.g. "Harry hasn't slept all week, if he doesn't sleep today we're going to be in Dickie's Meadow .. without Dickie!"

Me and D decided that Shit Creek runs through Dickie's Meadow so if things are particularly bad you can find yourself up Shit Creek without a paddle in Dickie's Meadow and is Dickie there? I think not. And, of course, because David's a smartarse he now calls it "The Meadow of Richard".

I can't think of any more examples right now (they'll come back to me and - don't worry - I'll keep you informed) so would y'all like to share some of yours? Anyone? Bueller?

Keris Bueller's Day Off cont'd

To the Printworks to see The Break-up. Nachos with cheese (sorry, I mean "cheese") and salsa. Great, great trailers:

This looks interesting. I'm a bit concerned Zach Braff might become typecast as early-mid-life-crisis guy and Rachel Bilson looks too young for him, but it's got Blythe Danner (or "Gwynnie's Mom", as I call her) so it's okay with me.

The trailer for this made me laugh quite a lot (although the title's crap). I dreamt about David Duchovny last week so I was wondering where he'd got to and it's got a great cast: Julianne Moore, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Billy "I am a golden god!" Crudup. Even more intrigued after reading this on IMDb: "some critics' objections for occasional in-your-face crudities". Chopped raw vegetables? Really?

Then there was a trailer which, rather embarrassingly, actually made me sob. I can't remember the title - it was one word, possibly beginning with A. It's apparently a horror film or thriller, based on "true events". There's a bunch of yuppie types on yacht and a woman with a young baby, maybe six months old. She lies (lays? I never know that one) the baby on a bed and says something like, "Let's see if Mommy can relax, shall we?" then the yuppies are messing about jumping off the boat and one of the men picks Mommy up and threatens to throw her in. She's screaming, clearly terrified, but he jumps in anyway, taking her with him.

My immediate thought of 'I wouldn't like that, leaving the baby alone' was echoed with a shot of, I think, the baby asleep. But then the yuppies can't find the ladder to get back on the boat. Quick shots of them scrabbling about, screaming, thrashing, some blood and, yes, the baby awake and crying and the mother sobbing (from the water) "Mommy's coming". Now I can't take crying babies at the best of times, but the thought of this (and with "based on true events" fresh in my mind, I was undone. This is a film I will not be seeing.

Thankfully the next trailer was for this. I accept that it's probably not very good and that all the funny bits were in the trailer, but I love Owen Wilson and Matt Dillon (and Kate Hudson - there's a really sad pic of her with ex and little son in Grazia: obviously post-public row, she's clearly upset, ex stony-faced, poor little toddler happy and oblivious) so it's a must-see for me.

I emerged into the sunlight, blinking like a mole, and went to M&S to buy some jeans. I know what you're thinking - M&S? Jeans? - but I've been reading in the glossies how fab their new range is. You know what? The jeans are very nice. You know what else? Even the short length is about 5 inches too long for me. WTF? In my outrage I said to the woman, "Have you changed the length of your trousers?" (thankfully, she knew I meant the shop, rather than her personally). She said, "Oh, a lot of people have been saying that." Argh! So that's, um, nowhere I can buy trousers that don't have to be shortened (Next's are also a good five inches - hee hee - too long). Why do I have to pay for the clothes and then also pay to have them altered? Why? Why? For the love of god, why? But I did finally heed Susannah and buy a couple of scoop-necked tops and you know what? She's right. They make my waist look tiny (and it's faaaar from tiny) and my bosoms look very va-va-voom. Who needs trousers, eh?

Then it was back to Starbucks for a hot chocolate and a read then the train home and a listen to lovely Jason Mraz on my Pod. All in all (trouser problems aside) a lovely day. I must do it more often.

Keris Bueller's Day Off

One thing I've realised in the past year working from home and working for myself is that I can't switch off. I check my email constantly (who doesn't?) but I'm also compelled to just do one more thing. I've been working like a demon the past couple of weeks and after finally submitting something I've been working hard on (hee hee .. sorry), I decided to take today off. Plus I've got RSI or something and my right wrist is killing me, so it was for the best.

Of course I ended up working for a couple of hours last night and a bit longer than I intended this morning, but by 9.30 I was free and off to Manchester. I realised I find it really, really hard to leave my email. I switched the computer off and still had to force myself out the door without checking it 'one last time'.

I bought Now! and Grazia for the train (I usually get Heat, but it was a Big Brother spesh) and started reading Sara's Face, the new Melvyn Burgess book. Once I arrived in Manchester, I went straight to Starbucks for a decaf latte and pain au raisin. I walked up to Mosley Street to buy the new issue of O At Home from the only shop in the North West that stocks it, but - curse them - they didn't have it! Went to Debenhams and got one of these reduced to £8.50. It's glorious: smells gorgeous, sparkly, cute packaging and a bargain! Mooched down Market Street via Fopp, where I did my usual picking things up - Rich Hall's Things Snowball (£3), a classic crooners box set (£5), series 4 of Curb Your Enthusiasm (£20) - and then putting them all back again and not buying anything. Honestly, I get buyer's remorse before I've even bought anything.

As part of the whole trying to balance work even though the computer's right next to the loo (don't worry, not in the same room) and it'll only take me a minute to check my .. no, just let me .. hang on, I've just got to .. etc., I've instigated a ten pm cut-off so I'll have to continue this fascinating trawl through my day tomorrow. Bet you can't wait.

Memememememe

Yes, another meme. This one from Beki. And I know yesterday was meant to be guilty crush day, but I got distracted ranting at Ms Mac so I missed it. Normal service will resume next week (assuming I can think of more fanciable skanks).

So. The meme.

10 years ago
I got married. And, yes, I was too young.

5 years ago
Graduated from university and travelled around America for three months. And, yes, I am still going on about it.

1 year ago
Gave up work to write full time. Woo-hoo! Can I just mention that this morning's post brought two publisher catalogues from which I am to choose free books, and two free books. I am happy.

5 songs I know all the words to
Only 5?! Let me scroll through iTunes.
In no particular order:
Freedom by Wham!
You Oughta Know by Alanis Morisette
A Million Love Songs by Take That
Another Star by Stevie Wonder
Secret Love by Doris Day

5 Snacks
Chocolate
Nuts
Biscuits
Bread and butter
Malt loaf

5 things to I'd do with £100 million
* Give at least half away - to family, friends and charity. Though I do think deciding who to give your money to would be a stressful part of coming into great riches!
* Travel around Europe in an RV (with satellite TV)
* Buy a Fiat 500 and a Chrysler PT Cruiser
* Buy homes in Vancouver, San Luis Obispo and the Ribble Valley
* Book Robbie Williams for a personal performance

5 places I'd run away to
New York
Sorrento
Lindos (in Rhodes)
San Francisco
Hawaii

5 things I'd never wear
A football shirt
Fur
City shorts
Thigh-high boots (my thighs aren't high enough)
A uniform

5 favourite TV shows
The West Wing
Gilmore Girls
The Simpsons
Friends
The Office

5 greatest joys
Harry
Books
Ducks
Gilmore Girls
Working from home

5 favourite toys
Mac
Camera
Alphasmart
iPod
Harry's Tickle Me Elmo

Five people I'm tagging
Can't be bothered to tag anyone. Wanna do it? Do it.

And they say romance is dead

My husband, half an hour ago:

"Let's just watch this episode of South Park, then we'll go upstairs and you can shave my neck."

Pimp my blog and more ...

First of all, hope you like the new colours. I've copied them from the Chicklet site so I hope my fellow Chicklet chicks don't mind ...

Secondly, I keep forgetting to thank everyone who weighed in on the hairdo question, especially those who said I do not look like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. (We saw his book in Sainsbury's yesterday and David showed it to Harry saying, "Look! There's Mummy!")

Also, I'm Booklish!

This week, I've been mostly ... part 1

I spent Tuesday morning rewriting my essay for the thing I will hopefully be able to tell you about (and in a very exciting way) soon. And then, in the afternoon, Tamara came to visit. I met Tamara at Gabrielle's in Paris and, bless her, she dropped in on her way from Scotland to Bradford (!) to give me a bag of books, etc., from Gabrielle. Tamara was one of the cool chicks at the cool chicks lunch (in Paris). I keep forgetting to post the pic, so now's as good a time as any!

So that's Narissa, Gabrielle (sorry about the closed eyes!), Jenny, Tamara, me, Severine and Narissa's cousin whose name I've forgotten (it was something pretty though!).

And Gabrielle, the angel, sent Carpe Demon, Queen of Babble (yes!), Stupid and Contagious, The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill*, Lady Luck's Map of Vegas and The Mary Tyler Moore Show First Season DVD. I am so happy. And spoilt. Thanks, Gabrielle!

So Tamara and I went to the Trafford Centre and had lunch, wandered about, got a Starbucks, visited the Apple store and watched a tea dance in the Orient. We came home and Tamara met Harry and then we went for a pootle, a drink, and more chat. I had a great time and isn't it amazing that I never would have known Tamara if it wasn't for this blog?

* (Just realised I left an asterisk dangling earlier!) I typed The Wild Paragraphs of Telegraph Hill. I need a holiday.

Hair Don't?

You see, I planned this post to be about the fact that I've stopped straightening my hair, but that no-one has commented on it, making me think it actually looks a mess and no-one wants to tell me. But when I started looking for pictures to illustrate my former very-curly-hairedness, I got a bit carried away. So think of this as therapy, if you like.

I was quite old before my hair came through. See.

On this picture, I look like the missing link between my dad and Harry, which I suppose I am.

But when my hair did come through it was curly (check out the collars!).

Very curly. David calls this "the Garfunkel years".

It didn't get much better as I got older (there's that cerise blouse again, Beki)

Then it got briefly, shockingly, worse:

Around this time, I tried straightening it. It took about two hours and the minute I stepped outside it reinflated like an automatic airbed.

Then I moved to London and eventually (after about six years, I think), had it cropped.

I loved it like this. I couldn't believe my hair could be so easy to look after and look so good! But then I got pregnant and my hair lost its mind and the crop just didn't work anymore. But by then straighteners had advanced and become fabulous and they became my best friends. They changed my life. I loved them so. But suddenly - whether the straighteners are past their best or whether my hair has just said "Enough!" - my hair wouldn't straighten. I could get it sort of wavy, with some fluffy bent bits for texture, but it wouldn't straighten. So I decided, why not try and work with my hair instead of against it?

I have tried this before and it hasn't worked, but this time, it did. Well, at least, in my opinion (remember the original point of this post?):

Yes, I know there's no top to my head, but I took about twenty pics and this was the only one I liked. I'm very vain, you know. (Er .. damn.)

I was hoping for something like this:

Or even, on a good day (remember, we're only talking hair) this:

But David claims I actually look more like this ...

... but without the enormous rack. Oh, wait.
(Sorry, but I crack myself up. Looking at the photos above, isn't it good that I can still laugh?)

Girl racer

Today I drove on the motorway by myself for the first time. Yes, I know it's months since I passed my test and had motorway lessons, but I didn't want to have Harry with me the first time I did it alone and, you know, I almost always have Harry with me (either that or I don't have the car).

But today I was going into the city centre to have lunch with my friend Byron and his friend Steph and I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to bite the bullet. Not only did David give me directions, we had a trial run of the first part (where I had to change from one motorway to another) last night. David clutched me when I left this morning; I don't think he expected to ever see me again.

I loved it! I had To The Best Of Our Knowledge (ugh, don't like the new website at all!) on my iPod playing through the car radio via the genius thingie David bought and which Byron tells me is actually illegal because it effectively makes me (or D) into a pirate radio broadcaster - how cool is that?! - and I made it into town in record time. Had a lovely brunch and coffee with Byron and Steph and then read a few first chapters in Waterstone's (this, this and this, if you're interested - you know I'm talking to you, Diane!) and then set off for the drive back.

It was boiling hot. Our teeny car doesn't have aircon and the air blowers were blowing hot air. I opened the window and the air that blew in was hot too. Stupid global warming. I zoomed along, noticing once during an overtaking manoeuvre that I was doing 80! I didn't even think our car could do 80! (The engine is smaller than that of some motorbikes. Seriously.) When I slowed back down to 70 (I'm very law-abiding), it felt like I was crawling. How can that be? The first time I did 40 on a lesson I was terrified and thought I had G-force and now I'm doing 80 without even noticing!!!

Anyway, thanks to the crapness of David's directions for the return journey - "Just come back the way you came". Um, yes, but I don't know what junction I got on at so how do I know what junction to get off at?! - I had an impromtu tour of another motorway and the carparks of both B&Q and Sainsbury's, but I got home in one piece, albeit 20 minutes later than I could've done and also soaked - and I mean soaked - with sweat. Our next car has to have aircon.

So the next step is either a tiny trip with Harry or a bigger/different trip without (Zoe, are you in to visitors? And do you live anywhere near Ikea?)