Rollin'

I feel like we can't really complain you know. Yes the weather has been atrocious just recently, it really has been ridiculous. But we've had two Bank Holidays in May and both have been filled with glorious sunshine.* (See the early May Bank Holiday post here) You have to give the weather credit for that. I am anyway - I don't want to anger it and seem ungrateful and be punished with an even worse summer than last year.

This Saturday The Person and I had to head into town on a little shopping errand. The Person had an unfortunate incident earlier in the week which saw him completely rip the crotch of his work trousers - apparently the act of getting out of a car was too much for his trouser seam, which ripped to reveal a hole so big you can fit your fist through it.

But I digress.

We were in town, the sun was shining and trousers bought, we had no other plans for the rest of the day.

This bright spark here came up with a smart idea. We would go and get sandwiches and go to Avenham Park, possibly my most favourite place in Preston, and sit in the sun for the afternoon.

And so we did. We sat up in an absolutely massive bank so we could survey our lands before us. The Person sat quietly and read, whilst I laid on my back and took photos of the sky, my new favourite hobby, and bugged him and complained that I was going to fall down the hill because it was too steep, and panicked that my crisp white skin was burning under the rays.

I then had the best idea I've ever had, which was to roll down the hill a la a small child. I wasn't too sure if this was a good idea or not, I'm not famed for my excellent judgement and my "Amezzing ideas" tend to end up in tears and pain but The Person assured me that I could just roll "a bit" and stop myself.

No. No you cannot roll a bit and stop yourself.

I can let you all know that gravity works my friends. It works like a dream. The second I set off I was out of control and all I could hear The Person's voice, getting fainter and fainter, going "Oh my god, STOP!"

I eventually came to a standstill, my head absolutely spinning and totally unable to stand.

And promptly went back up to the top and rolled down again.

Kids know where it's at my friends. They understand the FUN.

I eventually persuaded The Person to join in the fun and he gave it ago but I couldn't leave it well alone and, on my final roll down the hill, ended up with one leg of my jeans completely covered in mud and with bird poo on my t-shirt.

I don't regret a minute of it.


*Or at least they have been in the Midlands and in Preston. Just covering my back here folks.

April Project 365 Round-Up

It was a good old month April you know - lots going on, like Turning 30 and Easter Read-a-thons and all kinds of fun things.

April

Clockwise L-R: The view from Cloud 23, an old horse in a playground, my crocheted zebra, blue skies! Blinky full of hatred, Riverside Walk in Preston

4th April - I did a 30! Woohoo. Well done me, and I didn't turn into stone or melt or anything. How lovely. I went to Manchester for the day with The Person and we had a cream tea up in Cloud 23. Oh I won't tell you any more about it - click on the link above and read about it yourself you lazy so and so.

13th April - There is a small patch of grass literally around the corner from my sister's house and in all the years they've been living here I've never actually walked round to see it. I took Rosie out for a little run around and went there and found this little fella - he's one of those bouncy springy jobs that you sit on, you know? I don't know when he was put there but I get the feeling he's seen some things. I perched on him for a  while and I hope that made him feel loved.

28th April - Hahahaha I crocheted a thing! A zebra. Happy happy happy, look at his funny little face. I totally did that you know. You can read all about him here.

26th April - Blue skies people, blue skies. Let us all take a moment and look at March's Project 365 Round-Up, specifically at the photo of the snow. Totally unintentionally these photos are exactly one month apart - look at the difference. These are the kinds of things that make me glad I do Project 365.

1st April - There will never be a time when I don't find the look on Blinky's face hilarious. At least she doesn't try to hide her total and utter contempt for us all.

20th April - The Person and I did a walk in Preston. Lovely job. You see this is why it's good that you blog because instead of writing lines and lines about what we did and where we went, I can distract you all with this jazzy link and cleverly get off with saying nothing really at all. I. am. smart.

So there we go. A third of the way through already. That's not a thought that makes me feel ill at all.

As always, all of my Project 365 photos can be found here.

Curing The Stressies and The Blahs

I'm pretty sure I've told you this before, but long distance relationships suck pretty much a lot. You get on with it and you do the best you can do but it's tiring when most of your weekends are spent on trains.

You get caught in a trap because on one hand you don't want to waste the time you have together and feel like you should be doing things and going out exploring and being wildly exciting and on the other hand you just want a normal weekend, like you would have had if you'd been living together, just bumming around the flat where the major event of the day is going to Morrisons to get more food.

This weekend I was feeling the strain of it all a bit. A need to get out and do something but not really any idea of what to do - not helped when you have no car to hop into to go on a little jaunt.

I was feeling a bit stressy this weekend, awake at 4am with thoughts of work buzzing around my head, getting frustrated that most of my stuff lives in Preston when I don't, and that the flat is a mess (which I can't really complain about because hey I don't live there anymore but still drives me crazy).

I was suffering from a case of The Stressies - where you spend your time fretting about things you can't really do anything about - and a case of The Blahs - where you want to do something but don't really know what you want to do.

The Person came to my rescue with some pancakes - a much greater success than his previous baking attempt and a suggestion that we enjoy the blue skies and sunshine and go for a little walk. 

I shrugged my shoulders but I couldn't really say no as this walk starts literally at the end of the road, a hop a skip and a run across the railway tracks (totally legal crossing by the way) to the side of the River Ribble.

 

We ambled along at a leisurely pace, something which The Person struggles with despite the fact that we had a whole day with nothing else planned and nowhere in particular to be.

He contented himself with stopping to throw sticks in to the River for no other reason than that the sound they make when they hit water is a good sound and because I can only assume throwing things is some kind of primeval urge lying dormant within his masculine conscience.

I took pictures of trees to amuse myself...

...as well as pictures of steps with dandelions on...

We came to a wooden platform which it is entirely possible that we shouldn't have been standing on. I let it pass because there wasn't a sign saying we couldn't stand on it which therefore means we weren't technically breaking any rules.

We looked one way down the River...

...and then the other....

...and then I was persuaded to partake in some stick throwing, luckily managing not to completely embarrass myself with my girlish throwing action.

We walked along to the swing bridge, and had a look at the Locks and the boatyard, which I always think looks like a boat graveyard because the boats are all out of water and being worked on and looking a little forlorn as if all they want is to get in the water and sail out to sea.

(But that's because I have mental problems.)

And then it was pretty much business as usual. A walk to Morrisons to get food (preceded by a stop off at Homebase to buy some nuts and seeds for The Person's latest obsession - trying to attract birds to the balcony - current birds include some blue tits and some massively scary looking pigeons) before another stroll around the Docks to the flat - whilst I complained that there isn't a boat crossing for people like us who live on the opposite side of the Docks to Morrisons - the same thing I say every single time we walk to Morrisons.

But before I knew it, we were at the other side and ready to go home and do nothing for the rest of the weekend except watch Hull KR beat Wigan on the TV, watch Finding Nemo and The Breakfast Club, and eat inordinate amounts of noodles...

...Putting The Blahs and The Stressies to bed for one weekend at least...

Thirty

I did a birthday.

And turning 30 really wasn't that bad you know. In fact, you could almost say it was just like any other birthday. In fact, it was just like any other day, except for the fact that you get presents and you get to do everything that you want to do all day long.

The celebrations started a little early, a couple of days before when Best Friend came over from Hull and we went to Ribby Hall Spa for the day. See, that's what's good about turning 30, when you're younger you don't have the money to spend on getting poked and prodded and quite pummelled violently at times by a much younger girl.

I could totally be a lady who lunches by the way. I would quite happily, if I had the money to spend, just hang around in spas all day. The pair of us were so relaxed by the end that we were unable to hold a coherent conversation with one another, but we managed to pull it together to go out for tapas at my favourite place in Preston, Pond, where we ordered far too much food and had to bring most of it home in a doggy bag.

The day itself was just me and The Person and once all the presents had been opened he ran out of the room  saying he was going to get my final present. 

He came in proudly holding before him his very first cake;

The cake is a blog post in itself and I think I will save it for another day, but I don't think he's ever been prouder of himself.

We spent the day in Manchester where we ate lunch in Wagamamas and mooched around the shops, hoping to find something to wear for Saturday night, but discovering that fashion is not for the Thirty - it is for pre-pubescent girls with a penchant for neon. Only I could go to a major city in the North and walk away with a top for £13 form H&M which I bought in sheer desperation because I refused to go away empty handed.

The highlight of the trip however was a visit to Cloud 23 which was all that I'd requested we do for the day. For those not in the know, this is the bar in the Hilton Hotel which resides in Beetham Tower on the 23rd floor, offering some rather splendid views of the city and far far beyond.

I've been before at night to have some cocktails and admired the city all lit up and orange but really wanted to see what it was like before the sun went down and we weren't disappointed as the day was lovely and clear.

The photos don't do it justice - I have somehow taken photos which just look as if I've taken them out of the 5th floor office window and I can't convey just how far you can see when you're up there. You can the planes taking off from Manchester Airport for freaks sake. You can see Jodrell Bank!

You will just have to take my word for it. It was high up. The views were awesome. The End.

We shovelled a cream tea in our faces and then made our merry little way back home where we had planned to eat but discovered that lunch at Wagamamas and a cream tea at Cloud 23 goes a long way.

It doesn't sound like much I know but it was a happy day for me, with my favourite Person, in my favourite city, doing my favourite thing - eating.

A birthday in food: Tapas at Pond; the birthday cake; demolished cream tea; Wagamamas

And then it was back to the Motherland for the weekend where we did more eating. We had Chinese with Mumsie and galettes with my Dad (plus more cake) and finally much drinking with my special friends on the Saturday night where I surprisingly managed to get off pretty lightly hangover-wise considering the amount of money I spent and the number of shots that kept appearing in my hands.

I wrote a post previously about how I was feeling about Turning 30 (in case you were wondering, it wasn't a good  feeling) and I'd be lying if I said I'm now totally over it and feeling fine and breezy. But you know what? I know people who are 30 and have the kids and the house and the job etc etc and quite a few of them are basically complete dicks. 

I may not have a house. I may not have children. I may not even have a fancy career. But I'm definitely not a dick. So 30 can suck it, I'm off to get me some more food.

March Project 365 Round-up

I can hear the groans.

"Oh god didn't we just have one of these?" I hear you cry. Well yes, yes you did, but that's because there was nothing in January and February and now we are nicely caught up. You won't have to feast your eyes on another of these until the end of April.

 

March

Clockwise L-R: The castle, Lily's close up, a wintry scene, sheepy sheepy sheep sheep, the Tetris blanket grows, SNAKE

2nd March - I live near a ruined castle and it's brilliant. It doesn't look that impressive but you can actually go up to the top of one of the towers, as long as you don't mind heights or narrow stone spiral staircases. If I walk into work (instead of getting a lift from my sister) I walk past it and it never. gets. old.

9th March - I went back to Hull for Mother's Day and Best Friend's birthday. This is a close up of Lily. You're welcome.

26th March - Oh hai snow, you're here again, aren't you fun? No actually you're not you total twat. Although you do make for lovely wintry scene photographs of churchyards. 

18th March - These sheep lived outside our Manor when I was away for my Bloggers Weekend and I was a woman possessed trying to get a good photo of them. Persistence paid off in the end and I got them all lined up and looking at me. Winner.

19th March - The Tetris blanket is veeeeeeery slowly taking form and it is exciting.

23rd March - Every time I go back to Preston, The Person and I take a mooch around Pets at Home because it's opposite the flat. We look at the rabbits and guinea pigs and try and stroke random dogs and it's awesome. Going in every time I'm over sometimes makes me feel like a loser but it paid off because today we went in and there was a man there with many creepy crawlies including a SNAKE and I totally got to hold it. What do snakes feel like? Well, they feel like a handbag actually. Not slimy and actually nice and smooth. This old gal mostly felt heavy, she was about 4 stone.

---------------------------

March was a good month you know, I struggled to pick just 6 photos and thought about adding more but then figured that I'm struggling to hold your attention as it is and probably shouldn't make it worse.

Let's be having you April.

--------------------------

If you were interested - all the other photos from Project 365 can be found on my photostream HERE

The time I ran my first 10k

So now that Running and I were back on track and having the relationship of our lives, I knew it was time to take it to the next level.

I'd set myself a Not Really Resolution of running 10km this year. And I'd specifically said that I wasn't going to enter a race because I didn't want to put too much pressure on myself. But I soon realised that although Running and I were getting on again, I needed something to push me or else we'd just stay stuck in the same 5km rut forever.

As luck would have it, Preston was holding a 10km race at the end of September and after much umming and aahing I decided to just go for it and book my spot and see how it would go.

I did keep meaning to train but the closing in of the nights, plus getting a job that means I walk a ridiculous amount every day, plus the rain, plus my general tendency towards idleness meant that training was non-existent tough-going. I managed to get to 7.5km one night which was great and then I made it up to 8km another night and I was feeling pretty good.

Then I got sick with the mean bug that has struck everyone down and in the 2 weeks before the race I managed one 5k run and that didn't go too well. I resigned myself to the fact that the race wasn't going to be where my 10k was going to happen.

One thing I did discover during the rekindling of my love affair with Running - I don't really like running to music. I get stressed out and distracted and start counting how many songs I've listened to and what the next song is and running to keep to the beat of the song, it just doesn't do it for me. The main problem I have with running is that I spend the whole time in a battle with my mind. It's just so mean to me from about 3km onwards it starts up moaning and then it begins;

"You're too tired. If you're too tired now and you've got to run even further then how are you ever going to run 10k? Maybe you should just stop now and oh my god you can't even breathe properly and wait do your knees hurt a bit, you should probably stop and good god aren't you running so slowly that you're basically walking? You should probably just stop now."

And this will continue until eventually I get to 5k and succumb to the voice. So I figured that I needed a distraction - music clearly wasn't cutting it.

Enter Desert Island Discs...

I have many of these podcasts downloaded to my iPod. And guess what? They're about 35 minutes each. And guess what? That's about how long it takes me to run 5km.

Hey. I never said I could run fast people.

So when I was at the startline of the Preston 10k I was there, iPod in hand, podcast cued up, ready to run.

Goldie Hawn kept me company for the first 5km. And I was glad of her because oh good god people weren't joking about the hills. I thought there was one hill I had to contend with, but pretty much from the get go I realised this was going to be tough. I'm not made for hills. I'm not used to hills. I don't do hills. I hadn't even noticed Preston city centre was that bloody hilly before - but I and my legs can assure you that it is.

I had made a promise to myself that I would try and get to 8km. Anything after that was a bonus. I wasn't going to beat myself up about it, I'd never run 10km before and I'd been ill and this course was frankly a little bitch. It wasn't really a course that was very geared up towards spectators either, which made it a kind of lonely experience, you need to know people are cheering you on I think.

I tried to not feel like the biggest loser alive when all the other people were running past me, I just kept my head down, listened to Goldie Hawn and did what I had to do.

Once Goldie was done and castaway, I turned to Mary Berry for help and I think she was what I needed. No nonsense Mary was the calming voice in my ear through the next 5km or so - keeping me company along the banks of the River Ribble and up the many ridiculous hills of Avenham Park.

The last hill is a joke. There are not even words to describe how steep it is. I struggle to walk up it normally. I can't say that what I was doing was "running" up it, more of a squatting waddle whilst vigourously pumping my arms, and by the time I got to the top, even though I wasn't entirely sure my legs were still attached to my body, I realised that I'd surpassed the challenge I set myself and had done over 8km. In fact, I was pretty much at 9km, and if I'd come this far....

The head went down. The arms pumped a little bit more. Mary Berry came to an end and Florence + The Machine entered stage right to see me through the final few minutes.

And a mere 1 hour and 18 minutes (I know. Don't laugh.) after I'd started out, I hopped over the finish line.

And pulled this face...

No it wasn't fast and no it definitely wasn't graceful. But it was done. And I could even tell you that I enjoyed it and I wouldn't really be lying.

And before you ask. No I will not be doing a half marathon next. I am not even a little bit tempted. 10k is good enough for me and I think this is where I'll stick and settle myself down. Long enough that it's a challenge, not so long that the training takes over your life and your body gets ruined.

Man it feels good to at least get one of those things cross off my Not Really Resolutions list. It's not going to be a good year Not Really Resolutions-wise...

Why you shouldn't shop with hungover.

This Saturday I had big plans. I had all of the things to do. I had a mental list going on, I was going to get up bright and early and get. things. done.

On this list there was included:

- Watch the 2nd Proclamation in the city centre (I won't go into it all now. It's to do with Preston Guild which only happens once every 20 years and has been going on since 1179)

- Go to the bank and pay in big cheque (been waiting for ages for it, a refund from train tickets from an interview)

- Go and get bus ticket refunds (because Preston Bus operates a frankly insane system where you have to use correct change)

-  Get some new shoes for work

- Get some new trousers for work

But I was foiled in my plan. My big productive plan all went awry on Friday night when The Person and I went out for a "couple of drinks" to celebrate someone's leaving do. This couple of drinks ended at 1am when we were politely asked to leave the pub because they were closing.

It did cross my mind as I optimistically set my alarm for 8am that this might not be the wisest move I'd ever made but when the morning came round I actually felt pretty good about life. I was up and at them and rearing to go. And yet something meant I wasn't moving as fast as I wanted to.

About halfway into town I realised that my hangover was hitting. I was not fine. I was not feeling good about life. In fact, I was feeling decidedly not cool about life.

After being in town an hour I realised I had full on Wandering Ghost Syndrome. Normally I have this in the house and it's not a problem. You know the feeling - you wander from room to room, wanting to do something but lacking the focus and energy to actually get on with it. But this was bad I had WGS in the city centre of all places.

I should have just called it a day there and then and gone home but my WGS continued until eventually I actually developed the shakes. I was a loss of what to do when Twitter provided me with the answer - I should totally go to McDonalds! One Big Mac later and I was feeling better about life and before long decided to make my way home.

Once home I turned to my mental list of things I wanted to do in town:

- Watch the 2nd Proclamation in the city centre  - Nope. Got there too late to hear the actual proclaiming but I did hear a lovely military band and saw some marching and saw the Paralympic Flame.

- Go to the bank and pay in big cheque - Nope. Left that twat at home - clearly my hangover was kicking in earlier than I realised.

- Go and get bus ticket refunds - Nope. Despite the fact they were in my purse and I got a bus to the bus station.

-  Get some new shoes for work - Nope. Felt too hungover to bend down and take shoes off/put shoes on

- Get some new trousers for work - Nope. Too hungover to go trouser shopping, my most hated of all the shopping.

Instead I came home with:

- 4 nail varnishes

- A cardigan reduced in the sale in Fat Face

- A jumper with cats on from Debenhams.

- A meal deal for two for £10 from M&S

*Sigh*

Things people ask me now that I'm unemployed Part 3/3

"How are things going in Preston?"

I'm never really sure how to answer this one. I think this is a general all-encompassing question that intends to cover the previous two questions. I think they're asking about the job and living with The Person all in one.

I tend to answer in a much more general way and focus in on the Preston part.

I should know the place like the back of my hand having been unemployed and living here for a month and a half. However, due to yet another incident involving high heels and alcohol which took place less than 24 hours living in the city, I have been pretty immobile up until the last couple of weeks (and yes I have now learned my lesson on that score).


Shopping
In many ways Preston reminds me of a smaller Hull. It's Northern. It's got a standard kind of high street. In some ways it feels really familiar.

I'm still trying to find my way around all the shops - there are a couple of shopping centres - and I might not be able to take you directly to a particular shop (unless you're looking for Krispy Kreme, I can definitely take you straight there) but I can lead you in kind of the right direction.

There are a few little cute independent shops but you need to do some exploring to find them at times. My favourite little tucked away treat is the Mystery Tea House - perfect for if you don't fancy Cafe Nero/Costa/Starbucks etc.

Nightlife
I'd only been out in Preston a couple of times before I moved here but unfortunately the place I went to both times has now closed down. For the Jubilee weekend a couple of friends came to see me and we struck out with nothing more than a starting point and a plan to follow the crowds and see where it took us.

Turns out Preston is awesome. We drank. We danced. And when we decided to call it a night at 1am the pizza place was empty and people were queuing up at the cashpoints, taking more money out. Preston People know how to party.

Local prettiness
There's prettiness abound as well - I live close to the Docks which are beautiful, especially when the sun is shining. Slightly less so when the wind and rain are battering you as you walk round them to get to Morrisons.

Most excitingly they have nature on them. I love a bit of nature sometimes. The Docks currently have some swans nesting*;

And some terns. I was initially excited at how resourceful they'd been, turning an old tyre into a nest, but then I was informed that those have been put there purposely for them to nest in. But I like my version better.

Also close by is the Ribble. I've even been for a run alongside this and was jogging along, admiring its beauty when I realised that I really should be looking where I'm placing my feet and nearly went arse over tit on a bit of loose rubble.

And let's not forget that Preston is only 20 minutes away from Blackpool and about 40 minutes from the Lake District by train.

And here ends my role as Preston Ambassador.


*Since taking this picture I am pleased to report that the swans now have some cygnets - or swucklings as I like to call them. There are 6 of them but I haven't had the chance to take pictures of them yet.

The Plan

So it is indeed official. I am for the chop, didn't dodge the bullet, am walking the plank. I'd do some kind of redundancy chant, you know something along the lines of "Gimme a R! Gimme an E!" but it's a really long word and frankly I couldn't find enough that rhymed with it.

To give you a brief overview there are 2 main things you need to know:

1. I am being made redundant.

2. I will be moving to Preston to live with The Person.

Whilst these things may come as a shock to you, they're actually known to me as Contingency Plan A.

Further to one of my previous posts, I think I have found my magic trapdoor out of The Pit. It was quite simply the knowledge of what was going to happen. Even though it was bad news, it was far better knowing that not knowing. Turns out that I'm not so good with the unknown - others may thrive on it, I like a lovely nice plan and a list thank you very much.

You may not have noticed but we're in the middle of a stinking great recession, meaning that there aren't many jobs about. There are especially not many jobs in Hull - we suffer from some of the highest unemployment figures at the best of times, never mind at the moment. The same week that I was made redundant, about 300 people lost their jobs in a Comet call centre and various other companies shed their staff like a snake does its skin.

It was clear to me that the following chain of events would happen to me once I lost my job and stayed in Hull:

1. I wouldn't find another job doing what I'm doing now because it's kind of specialised.

2. I wouldn't be able to afford my rent and carry on living in my lovely shared house.

3. I would end up temping/signing on.

4. Find it very difficult to find the £54 return train fare from Hull to Preston to see The Person

So it kind of felt logical to make the move to Preston and go and live with The Person, I can temp/sign on in Preston and living there would also eliminate the need to pay for the train fare. Plus, you know, I love him and stuff.

And so I'll be leaving my beloved Motherland behind in about one month's time and shacking up in Preston at the end of April (bar sorting out my leaving conditions with my work, who are being arses by the way) and starting a new and slightly terrifying new adventure.

Right. Let's find some boxes.....sigh.

The weekend I attempted the impossible

After New Year I had an unexpected e-mail from The Person.


“When you come over next can we do things to make the flat homely?”

It was an e-mail which simultaneously surprised and didn’t surprise me. I remember when I moved into my new place and got myself all unpacked, he started round looking a bit confused before saying “But this room looks like you live here already, you’re all unpacked and everything and it looks like you. My flat looks like I’ve just moved in.”

What surprised me was that he wanted it in his place at all. I just assumed he was being blokey and liked things as they were. But the nesting bug must have caught hold of him somehow and the request was made.

At first I was in heaven. Getting to make a home for someone else is immensely fun. Mostly because it doesn’t involve you spending any money doing it. But I soon realised one huge stumbling block.

Homey things = girly things.

Trying to make a flat seem nice and homely whilst retaining a sense of masculinity about it was hard to imagine. Especially as I’m a girl. And whilst I don’t think I have excessively girly taste, I didn’t think The Person was going to get as excited about an ornamental birdcage as I would.

In the weeks leading up to me going to see him I started to have a little browse and pick up some things as presents to get him started. Some nice mugs which are colourful and can go on a mug tree in the kitchen but were without a hint of Liberace. Some decent tea towels to replace the dirty rags he currently owns. Some grey storage boxes – grey – how manly can you get?! And some little fake plants that require no care and won’t be producing any unexpected girly flowers on them.

But I knew there were going to be problems. I spotted this throw on Dotcomgiftshop (£49 reduced to £15? Yes please!) and suggested it because it was brown, thought that would be pretty manly. But it was rejected for being girly. Apparently if a sofa and a bed are already covered in fabric then why the need to cover them in more? It was a logic I found difficult to argue with.*

I went over prepared for a battle and, to be fair, I kind of had one, but by the end of the weekend things were starting to take shape. To really understand what I had going on here you have to imagine a student, who has just moved in to his first place. There was seriously nothing to work with. As in, he didn’t have a bin in the bathroom. Or a table to put a coffee cup on. Getting a picture? This wasn't really a case of getting amazing, expensive furniture that will last our whole lives, and more about just getting stuff, full stop.

So by the end of the weekend we had:

A nest of tables (one for each end of the sofa) A bin for the bathroom and a toilet brush
A toothbrush holder and soap dispenser
A bath mat (Hurray for 3 for 2 on Argos Colour Match stuff)
Some nice new colourful towels
Shelving unit (bargain from Morrisons for £9 – although I wouldn’t put much on it given that you didn’t actually need a screwdriver to put it together)
A bamboo plant
Coasters
2 table lamps (to take up residence on aforementioned nest of tables)
I also did a bit of re-jigging, moving the never-used small dining room table into a corner of the lounge and moving an uplighter to create a little dining area. I suggested getting something to sit in the middle of the table but couldn’t get agreement on anything, having a conversation that went a little like this:

Me: How about a bowl?
The Person: What would I put in it?
Me: Well nothing. You could just have a bowl. OR. You could put some sand/pebbles in it and a candle in it?
The Person: You know what would be good? A big giant rock.
Me: *silence*

I discovered that it’s actually difficult making somewhere homely when you’re not the person living in it – all I could really do is suggest things to The Person and see if he liked them. I tried again with the soft furnishings, I brandished a tartan throw from Primark in his direction and made him feel how soft it was and I thrust a cushion in his face in Debenhams exclaiming “Look! Pigeon cushion! How manly is that?!” But it was to no avail.**

I still haven’t won the battle over candles unfortunately. I think that’s a no- go. Although a utensil holder for the kitchen has been given the green light so it wasn't a complete fail.

All in all – not bad for a weekend’s work say I.

Next time.....bedroom!



*But I totally went and bought that throw for myself anyway and I love it. It’s so so so so soft I just want to smoosh up in it all day.


** Or was it? Later on he admitted that the throw and cushion might not have been such a bad idea. Aha! I just had to plant the seed!

Magical Mystery Tour

So I've been away for the past few days visiting The Person. It was kind of a special weekend. One which kind of marked the fact that we've been together for one whole year. Ideally we were going to take a long weekend to spend together but the God's conspired against us (mainly in the form of The Person's work who were sending him on training on Monday morning) so we just took Friday off.

The Person was in charge of the weekend's activities and duly told me he'd organised a SURPRISE trip on the Friday.

I won't lie, I'm not big on surprises at all. I'm a lady who likes to be in control. I have no problem doing new things, I just want to know what those new things are going to be.

I asked for wardrobe advice and was told to bring outdoor shoes, my trainers would be fine, but something sensible, and a coat. I started to worry a little bit. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm a city girl. I like my amenities to be close at hand, and if there isn't a Tesco within 10km I start to hyperventilate. Jokes, jokes, I'm not that bad, I don't mind the country in small doses, but again, I like to be in charge.

I tried to make The Person yield the mystery information but it was to no avail. All I knew was that I had to get up early doors ready to get on the train.

Before we left, The Person put on his walking boots. My heart sank a little bit. This mystery location was definitely going to involve the countryside. But I put my faith in him and off we trotted. Normally the trip to this mystery location just involves a straight through train from Preston, but due to some engineering works, our mystery tour took on several diversions - in total 2 trains and a bus - so I got to see quite a few rural train stations along the way.

Train from Preston to Oxenholme, bus to Grange-over-Sands, train to Dalton-in-Furness

On the final train, The Person turned to me and asked me if I was excited. I replied that I was nervous, which was similar but not really the same thing. He asked me what would be something that I would be excited about. I gave it a little thought but I could really only think of one thing...

"The zoo" I replied. He looked a little bit crestfallen and answered "Oh....is there anything else that you would feel excited about?" I had a think but I couldn't think of anything...

The train rumbled on and I asked if the day would involve animals in any way shape or form. The Person replied "I can't say yes or no to be honest. There might be but I can't promise anything."

That did not make me feel better.

Getting off the train at Dalton-in-Furness didn't enlighten me any further, or make me feel any better. It's in the middle of nowhere, just two platforms, no ticket office, nothing doing at all. I had a sinking feeling...

The Person called a taxi to come and take us to the mystery location which further confused me, what the hell was going on?

All became clear when we got in the taxi driver and he asked us, "Are you going to the zoo?"

My eyes got very big.

"Are we going to the zoo?!" I asked The Person.

We certainly were. We weren't just going to the zoo though. We were going to the ultimate zoo. One that I didn't even know existed (you get bonus points if you've ever heard of this place by the way). We were going to South Lakes Wild Animal Park. Now I get giddy about anything involving animals, but had I known how exciting this day was about to be I probably would have completely hyperventilated and most likely dropped in a dead faint on the spot.

Want to know the main reason why?

LEMURS.

Lemurs are pretty much one of my favourites (I think we all know that any kind of large cat is going to take ultimate precedence but that really is a given) so I was very excited to find out that South Lakes have a pretty large lemur population. But it gets better......these lemurs are wandering about free. You know as in, not behind bars. As in. Right next to you. As in. You could reach out and touch them.

BUT you must not reach out and touch the lemurs. There are several signs about warning you not to do it, you could get bitten and if they caught you touching them you would get thrown out. But seriously, when they're as close as they are it's hard not to. In fact, it goes against all of my natural instincts not to touch them. I'm an animal toucher I'm afraid - dogs and cats in the street, if it has 4 legs, I'm going to try and cop a feel. At one point I was gripping on to my bag with a vice like grip as I desperately tried not to succumb.

But it was hard. No I'm not zoomed in on this photo, he was that close.

Like other zoos, South Lakes has set feeding times for you to come along to and see the animals being fed, but unlike any zoo I've been to, you're allowed to feed the animals too. Even typing this out now is making me feel excited. Because I can remember feeding the giraffes...

...Which are huge by the way. I mean you know giraffes are big but I've never been this close to one before and it's not until their head is too big to get in shot that you realise the sheer size of these guys. They were actually pretty gentle when they were taking the leaves out of your hands, although you did run the risk of getting a lick from a very big tongue.

I have also fed Humboldt Penguins...

....Which are kind of smelly. That's what 12 tonne of fish will do for you. These guys were super gentle. You just dangled a fish above them and put it straight in their beaks. They get pretty mad if you don't appear to be supplying them with fish though, a few people had their cameras and their shoelaces pecked at.

We also fed the lemurs. They had grapes for dinner and were hilarious - all the animals know the score and know just what feeding times mean. They all lined up mostly neatly along the barriers to be nicely fed. The lemur that The Person fed was incredibly cute and put their little lemur hand on his to take the grape from him. Mine was a little snatchier, but I loved him just the same.

We saw the jaguars and lions being fed, which involved the keepers hanging chickens off 12 foot poles and then letting the kitties in to clamber up and pull them down.

I could go on. And on. And on. And on. And probably on. But I'll stop there. 

You get my drift. It was amazing.

And even more amazing is the attention South Lakes puts on conservation, they are ultimately geared towards the conservation of species of wild animals (a point which is somewhat hammered home in the talks they give - less info about conservation and more interesting facts about the animals would have been appreciated) and there are plenty of opportunities to either adopt animals or contribute in some other way to their programmes.

In short?

The Person wins the prize for best magical mystery tour ever.

And I even has a lemur of my own!

On your marks

I’ve never been particularly good at running. The mere mention of the words “cross country” can still set off a feeling of low level nausea in the pit of my stomach and send me looking for the nearest bush to hide in (anyone else do that during cross country at school?). When I first joined a gym back in June 2009, things weren’t much better. I was in terrible shape, had no stamina, and my tricksy knee would plague me if I managed to run for more than 10 minutes.

However since joining the new gym last year and becoming a proper “gym goer” (i.e. someone who actually turns up regularly to the gym, rather than someone who pays someone £20 a month for no reason) my stamina has slowly improved. And since losing the weight, my knee seems miraculously better – frightening proof of how much just a few extra stone can affect your joints.

And so came my decision that I would run a 5km race this year.

The reasons were few but nevertheless important;

1) Just something to do

2) Get over my fear of running – I am not still the same awkward teenager who would want to cry at the prospect of running the 1500m

3) Help maintain my weight loss

I am signed up to the Race for Life in Hull on Sunday 17th July. This is brilliant because not only does it give me something to aim for but it’s absolutely ages away so I have plenty of time to get training.

The only problem?

An all encompassing fear of running in public.

“Nobody’s looking at you!” I hear you say. But hear me. I know that I have seen people running on the streets and said to myself “My god they run weirdly.” Whilst I accept that people might not be as judgemental as me I know I’m not the only one who’s watched someone in lycra jog past and had a giggle to themselves.

I told myself that I would take it in stages. I would keep running on the treadmill until I knew that I could run 5km on that. At that point I would suck it up and take it to the streets because I would have the knowledge in my head that I could do this. And we all know the importance of that positive mental attitude.

I was quite pleased with myself, I had managed to legitimately put off something I was scared of doing. Until...

...This weekend I went to visit The Person (sorry, I just can’t think of a better name for him right now) and took advantage of a “Bring a friend for free” pass to get some running in. I gave him strict instructions to not communicate or even look in my direction whilst we were in there (there are certain times when it is ok for your boyfriend to see you red and sweaty. These times do not include the gym.) and I set myself up on the treadmill.

I started jogging away nicely and thought that I would push myself and aim for 3km, the furthest I would have ever run before.

I jogged and I jogged and I listened to tunes on my I-pod and watched the Coronation Street omnibus on the TV and realised that I was almost at 3km and wasn’t drop down dead tired yet. My problem tends to be that I stop well before I need to, mainly because I get incredibly bored and have to get off – my usual limit is 20 minutes on a treadmill before my brain implodes.

“See if you can make it to 30 minutes” I told myself.

I jogged and I jogged and I realised that I was almost at 30 minutes and that I was well into 4km.

“Might as well keep going then lady. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I told myself (in the style of a Bootcamp leader. A nice one though. Not one that makes you exercise until you vomit).

I jogged and I jogged...

And after 35 minutes and 27 seconds of jogging I ran for 5km. No stopping, no slowing down (and not speeding up either admittedly) just jog, jog, jog.

Cue tumultuous applause. Cue me almost hugging the stranger on the cross trainer next to me. Cue me stumbling across the gym to tell The Person that I’d completed a 5k and why hadn’t he looked at me so I could get his attention so he could come and witness it (contrary? Me?!). Cue a call to my Mum to tell her so she’d be proud of me (she didn’t get it). Cue a status update on Facebook in testament to my triumph. Cue general excitement and feelings of pride.

Until I realised that I don’t have any more excuses and have to go running in public.

Where’s the nearest bush?