The love that never dies

For the past 13 years Manchester has been where my heart has resided. Don't get me wrong, I love my Mothership (Hull, just in case you've lived under a rock) and nothing could ever take me away from her, but Manchester has been an all consuming, soul shaking, stomach flipping love since the day I started university in 2001.

Cities really are like people - some of them you just don't click with, no matter how hard you try (Leeds and Dublin I'm looking at you here) and some you just feel an instant connection with the second you step out of the train station or into the city centre (Newcastle I'm looking at you here). Some cities just speak to you and Manchester didn't just speak to me, she yelled in my ear and its resonance has never stopped ringing since.

As with any big city there is almost too much to discover and my world was hugely small - back in the day us students weren't really that fussed about the Didsburys and Chorlton (or at least none of the ones that I knew) and they still remain un-chartered territory for me. As a student my domain was Oxford Road, the city centre, Rusholme, Fallowfield and what was back then a 'new' and 'up and coming' part (which may be unthinkable to some reading now), The Northern Quarter.

I first lived in Halls directly opposite Manchester Piccadilly station and I remember my first walk down Oxford Road to go and register at the Student Union. It was about a 20/25 minute walk and I remember getting overly excited at seeing Paradise Factory, the club that Paradise Records was turned into and the BBC building. I was dealing with the big guns here.

As I walked under the footbridge with University of Manchester emblazoned on it, I swear I really felt at home. I belonged on these streets and from that day on I walked up and down Oxford Road like I owned that joint. This become my territory and I have never, ever, in my whole life, felt as confident and assured of who I was than I did in the years I spent in Manchester.

Maybe everyone who goes to university feels this way about the city they lived in and the people they met and the time they spent there. I have absolutely no doubt that I look back on my time there as an undergraduate student and a postgrad with rose tinted glasses. And I don't care. I thank God that there were enough good times to merit the rose tinted glasses, goodness knows there are enough periods of my life where the strongest lenses wouldn't be able to put a good spin on it.

It felt like my city and I think it will always feel like my city, even though it has now changed almost beyond recognition in some parts and I am hopelessly clueless as to where the good places are to go, or indeed, where anything is that is immediately out of the areas that I used to frequent all the time.

I want to stop people in Piccadilly Gardens and say "I remember this being unveiled bitches! I was here that long ago!" I want to march up to all the hipsters in the Northern Quarter and go "Booya! I remember a time when the stuff in the Oxfam vintage stuff was actually affordable!"

Whenever I go there I feel alive. I feel like me again. I feel the beauty of living in a place that is so large that you can be whoever you want to be because anything goes. I always wondered if I would grow out of being a city girl and eventually have the hankering to settle down in a more suburban area or live in a little village, but I have slowly realised that it is just never going to happen. I need stuff happening - I need an endless choice of places to eat and places to drink and places to go and things to see. But I still feel like not just any city would do, I could move to Birmingham and I still don't think it would be right, because Manchester is the one that will always be the comparison and aint no-one who measures up to Her.

But unfortunately, my memories of living in Manchester and being in Manchester and breathing in Manchester are all intrinsically linked to The Person. He is wound up and caught up with all those memories and those feelings and my brain has struggled to begin to pick apart Him from Her. She is the one I want to hold on to, hers are the memories that I want to retain - him? I have no place for Him in anything.

December 2014 was the first time since I first lived in Manchester that I didn't visit the Christmas Markets. I couldn't even bring myself because going to the Christmas Markets had become something that we did together, even though there were a whole bunch of years when I went before we ever even dreamed of getting together. And it made me feel so sad that he was going to not just break my heart, but break the part of my heart reserved for Manchester.

And so this year is the year that I go back. It's the year that I go back more than once, it's the year that I go back and make new memories with Her and slowly excise Him out of my brain.

I can't wait to start my love affair again.

The Color Run l Manchester 5th July

After the drama of this year's Hull 10k I think I would be forgiven for never putting my trainers on again.

Not really. That would have made me the most ridiculous human alive.

Luckily for me I didn't really have a choice as many moons ago I had booked The Person and I into to do The Color Run in Manchester at the Etihad Stadium. Getting covered in paint in my favourite city? Erm yes please.

It isn't the cheapest of runs at £25 per person and I did hover for a second before making the payment but it turns out I don't think I've ever had as much fun on £25, not even when I was student and it was a vodka and coke for 80p on a Monday night in 5th Avenue.

Your £25 gets you your very own white t-shirt to run in, a white headband, a transfer tattoo and a kind of pointless poncho - in other words, all you need to be a super cool person.

I was excited to find out that Miss Pond was going to be running too - a trip to Manchester, getting covered in paint and meeting an Internet Friend in real life?! - too much my friends. Too much.

We almost didn't meet up as it turns out that trying to find one person in a crowd of 5,000 when every single person is wearing a white t-shirt is pretty much the most difficult thing on earth. Luckily I managed to spot a hand waving out of the top of the crowd and I buzzed my way through the crowd to find myself in an awesome group of runners (made up of ladies also known as The Lady Sybil, Katherine Sully, and Phat Cupcake) and actually really close to the start of the race.

This is not the place to try and aim for a PB, this is not the race to take yourselves super seriously, this is the place to have a bit of a run and generally enjoy yourself. This is why I was actually quite surprised at how much not fun some people seemed to be having. We made a pretty lively group and I was all for whooping and high five-ing fellow runners as we weaved past each other but some. people. were not up for that kind of shit. Weird. If you can't have fun at The Color Run I literally don't know where you can.

Knowing that roughly every kilometre you're going to get blasted by powdered paint makes running a hell of a lot easier and that first blast of pink was quite the shock. I'd heard people say that they didn't really get covered in paint at these kinds of runs but I have absolutely no idea how. We were head to foot covered in awesome pink colour.

In fact if there was only one piece of advice I could give you it is to say make really sure you don't breathe a lot of that paint in. Harmless it may be, but it is dust nonetheless, and if you have a pretty decent case of asthma I wouldn't say that this is the race for you.

I probably should have taken more photos, a lot of people were stopping after each stage to do that but as much as I wasn't trying to zoom around the whole course, I didn't want to get caught up in crazily massive crowds either. Sometimes, it's ok to not document every single moment of everything you're experiencing. My brain is doing a pretty good job of remembering for me.

There isn't any more to say really. You run, people throw paint at you, you finish, you throw more paint around and take a load of photos and dance about like a loon, you get on a tram back to the centre of Manchester.

If that doesn't make you want to join in I have no idea what will.

So I'll see you there next year, yeah?

Emergency, paging Dr Beat

I am not a very good shopper.

I don't really like crowds. I don't really like spending my money on anything other than books and I honestly really couldn't give two hoots about clothes. If I could spend the rest of my days in my pyjamas I would. In fact pyjamas are the only clothes I'm happy to shop for, and in fact the one thing I have to actively stop myself shopping for - one person does not need the amount of pyjamas I own.

I digress.

Because I'm not a good shopper there are times when things just suddenly pop out at me out of nowhere and the thrill I get comes like a bolt out of the blue and I buy it, without really considering whether it is a smart purchase to make.

The town I now live in has very few shops. And I mean very few shops. The only high street clothing shop is a New Look and that is about the size of my living room. Let's just say it's a good idea I'm not fussed about clothes. This is also why I am likely to answer with "New Look" or "Tesco" when asked where my latest item of clothing is from.

Not too long ago a vintage shop opened up and I pop in there when I'm passing. Not to look at the clothes so much as they're not really my thing but to look at what little trinkets she has and my eyes immediately fell upon this little beauty...

In desperate need* of a weekend bag I immediately snatched it up, cradled it to my chest and handed over the £15 she wanted for it and practically ran up the street shouting for joy.

Things I probably should have done include;

- Check inside it you know, in case it was all gross

- Check the zip works

- Check how heavy it was

Luckily for me the first two things on that list where all good but the third....hmm....I probably should have taken it for a test spin around the shop and really thought about it.

This bag appears to be made of some kind of steel for it is not the lightest of chappies. I took it away with me to Manchester and only had in enough stuff for a couple of days and it weighed a ton. But I'm pretty sure this falls under the category of no pain, no gain. Because just look at this bag and tell me it isn't amazing and that you're not just a little bit jealous of me.

I know. You can't. Sucks to be you.

There has been more than one occasion when I have pranced around the lounge pretending to be Doctor. I don't know if it actually is a Doctor's bag but it certainly feels like it and I'm going to pretend that it is no matter what you say.

And if it was a Doctor's bag then Doctor's must have had ruddy strong arms back in the day because I wouldn't have wanted to put lotions and potions in here and had to lug them around to someone's house. I barely made it through Manchester Piccadilly with pyjamas, make-up, shoes and a jumper inside.

And in a fit of 'stylishness' - I don't even know if it can be called that if it's me that's done it - I tied an old scarf around the handle because I just worried he looked a little too plain. 

Is this what the cool kids are doing with their bags at the moment? 

Or am I just being terribly 2007?

Anyway. I'd love to stay and chat but I have a medical emergency to attend to...**

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Oh sorry what was that? You're loving my ever so amazing styling and location of this shoot?

These photos were taken at the Abode Hotel in Manchester where The Person and I stayed on Monday night for our annual trip to the Manchester Christmas Markets.

Why yes that is book wallpaper on the walls and parquet flooring - us medical professionals can only stay in the best of places you know.

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*Not really desperate at all

**Need a cup of tea

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.

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.

SFD - The Aftermath

I have made it through to the other side alive. My first foray into Slutty Fancy Dress is over and done with and whilst I wouldn’t exactly call it a success, I wouldn’t say I have been scarred for life either.

I gathered a few observations during the night which I would like to share with you all;

- We went for a makeover at Shu Uemura in the afternoon of the hen do. This was a good call because at least it was one less thing to worry about on the night – we know we looked good. Plus we could choose wicked awesome false eyelashes. Most people chose lovely, subtle, classy eyelashes. Me? I chose massive black feathery ones.

- SFD requires alcohol. For me at least. I would love to be possessed with the kind of self confidence that allows people to strut into a bar in a groin skimming dress as if it’s no big deal, but alas, I am not. Alcohol helped me stop feeling quite so conscious.

- BUT. Be careful to not drink too much alcohol. We saw an incredibly inebriated Queen of Hearts at the end of the night and SFD + Copious amounts of alcohol = Very unclassy looking person.

- And on that note: When did Manchester become a hive of Hen Nights?! I don’t remember that from uni days at all. It’s kind of disappointing and tacky but my guess is they’re mainly in the area we were in and a small trip further afield would be L-plate free.

- BUT having lots of other Hen Parties around also in fancy dress took the pressure off somewhat. There are other people you can a) smile knowingly at and b) think to yourself. “Well at least I don’t look as bad as that.”

- Until the alcohol has kicked in and all the other Hen Parties were around I kept reminding people to “Fake it until you make it” – pretend like you don’t care and eventually you’ll stop caring. You can’t go out in SFD and look embarrassed about it, you have to forge ahead and just pretend this is a normal, every day activity for you.

- If you are wearing something as short as I was, get a pair of hotpants. They will make you feel better psychologically just knowing they’re there. The thought of people seeing your pants is less horrifying than the thought of people seeing some hotpants. Which is ridiculous I know, but it’s the same as letting people see you in a bikini over your bra and knickers.

- When you buy said hotpants, make sure you actually see them. Don’t just ask in the shop if they have black hotpants and have the shop assistant say “No but we can order some in for you to come and pick them up.” Then your housemate will kindly go and pick them up for you and send you the following text message “Got your hotpants for you. Did you know they were leatherette?” I think I died inside a little bit when I read that message.

- Going to The Birdcage was a good call. Mainly because it was mostly full of other Hen Parties. Yes this does mean an awful lot of tacky Hen Party paraphernalia flying about but it also means a distinct lack of men. Being around other women made me feel much less self-conscious. Had we just been in a club I would probably have wanted to kill myself, or the gobshite trying to feel me up.

- Younger blokes will do their best to perv discreetly. Older men will just openly turn into slobbering fools.

- When the Maid of Honour announces that she’s got a drinking game where you all have to pull the name of an Artist out of an envelope and then down your drink whenever a song by said Artist is played during the night – do not pull Michael Jackson out of the envelope. Seriously. That man was responsible for too many good songs. I had to be given a reprieve at the end of the night before I ended up in need of a stomach pumping.

- Knowing that the Hen had a good time made my feelings about SFD pale into significance. At the end of the day, this was about showing a friend a good time and she wanted to do fancy dress. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what I had to do.

Overall I’m glad I did it. I had a good time and I feel it’s something I can tick off some kind of mental list. I don’t want to look back and regret things – I already do that looking at pictures of a much younger, thin me, saying “Why did you cover yourself up girl?!” I feel I’ve been given a second chance now that I’ve lost the weight and at least I’ve taken advantage of that.

Have I changed my mind and become a devotee of fancy dress? Erm....no. I think it’s ridiculous (not to mention expensive). But being a good friend is more important to me than my feelings about wearing polyester and looking a bit of a twat.

(I don’t think you appreciate quite how slutty this SFD was. I would love to share a picture with you but I’m just not brave enough. I’m still praying that my brother doesn’t log into Facebook and see pictures of his little sister looking like Alice in Wonderland was never meant to.)

Project 365: A look back at February

And whoosh. Another month has flown past. I would like to personally thank Lady Time for letting the sands through her fingers so liberally. Not.

I’m definitely starting to feel the burn of Project 365 now. The novelty has worn off and I’ve photographed pretty much all I can do on my walk to work and back each day. In fact a disturbing number of my photographs are taken when I’m at work – every time my boss leaves the office, I’m rummaging around for my camera and setting something up to photograph.

I haven’t taken any photographs this month that I’m particularly proud of. I wanted to write this post and thought I couldn’t really call it a round-up of my favourite photographs – more of a round-up of my favourite moments of February 2011 as represented by my Project 365 photos. 

(Why have a snappy title when you can have a convoluted one I say)

01/02 - How very convenient. The 1st February happened to be the day I reached my goal weight. Hurrah. Definitely a moment to remember. (I bragged about it here) I should say that since then I have paralysed with fear about going back to weigh-in. I am now a Gold Member and weigh-in is free for me as long as I am within 5lbs of my goal weight. Now I’m in somewhat of a dilemma, I’m sure I will have put weight back on (I don’t own scales so can’t say for sure) but I’m still happy as I am, part of me is very reluctant to go back to be told to lose weight, just because of an arbitrary number I plucked out of thin air when I first joined up. Hmm...not sure how I feel about it all to be honest.

03/02 - I snapped this on the way to the gym after work (ps how much lighter is it now already?! Hurrah!) because I thought that Hull City Hall, as seen across Victoria Square looked so beautiful. I might be alone in this one because the poor little photo hardly got any views on Flickr. Poor Hull.

12/02 – This month I made my very first cushion cover. It’s been exciting. And I haven’t even done a blog post yet about finishing it. Shame on me. But when I finished this side of it one weekend I felt immensely proud of it.

17/02 - I’ve got a lot of love for these when I included them in my February Photo Scavenger Hunt post and it made me very pleased. I absolutely love these shoes and have done from the very first day that I spotted a whole shelf full of them reduced to £3 in Primark 3 or 4 years ago. The sad truth is that I bought them and then didn’t dare wear them in public (although they did get an outing to Vegas when I went to see American Girl and Boy in 2008 – if you can’t wear those shoes in Vegas you seriously can’t wear them anywhere). I have decided that I need to get my fancy shoes out more though, I have a few of them but never ever wear them because quite truthfully a lot of them cripple me so can’t really be worn on nights out. So I have decided that at Stitch & Bitch on a Thursday I’m going to give them all their turn in public – it’s only up the road, I can totter there and back no problems. Expect lots more shoe photos to come in the following months...

20/02 - Somehow I’ve managed to get to the age of 27 and never travel in First Class. However, when I was booking my tickets to come home from Preston after a weekend of interview and Manchestering I discovered that by some quirk of fate a first class ticket was the same as a standard ticket (no I have no idea why either). I won’t lie, it was bliss, I am not looking forward to having to slum it in standard from now on. Lots more room, including bigger arm rests so you don’t have to get into an elbow war with a complete stranger and no having to listen to some chav’s music blaring out of his earphones. And on the train from Preston to Manchester there were free biscuits on offer. That’s right folks. Free biscuits. (There was nothing from Manchester to Hull because it was 6pm and there’s no trolley service on then. Booooooooo.) Small things please me people, what can I say.

23/02 - I don’t know about anywhere else but last week was freakin’ miserable weather-wise. If it wasn’t raining the sky was just grey and heavy and leaden. I think the sun broke through once on Thursday and I had to be restrained from cracking open the sun lotion. When I woke up on 23rd to yet more dismal stuff I decided to cheer myself up by putting on a summer dress. Another Primark bargain from a few years ago, it hasn’t been worn in a while (due to a) no decent summer weather and b) being too fat to button it up) and I had a burst of inspiration and put my black jumper over the top of it so I didn’t freeze. This might not sound like a burst of inspiration to you but I have little imagination, especially when it comes to wardrobe matters, so this was a major breakthrough for me. And you know what? It totally kept me happy all day. Win.

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If you want to check in on my Project 365 photos then click here or on the link on my sidebar.

Not quite Edinburgh

Sometimes I get the feeling that I’ve really annoyed someone somewhere in the universe for an unknown reason and I’m being roundly punished for my actions.

Last weekend I should have been in Edinburgh with The Person. Someone he knew offered us a flat so we didn’t have to pay accommodation costs and he had managed to find pretty cheap tickets (Return from Hull to Edinburgh normally is £90. Yes really.) for us to travel up by train. It was exciting and something to look forward to. When you only get to see each other once a month if you’re lucky and you don’t have many pennies to spend the idea of a cheap weekend somewhere is pretty exciting.

And then...

I got a call to say that I was invited to interview for a job in Lancaster.* I asked if I could be interviewed on another date but unfortunately potential employers hold all the cards at the moment and can afford to say no. Edinburgh was officially cancelled. (And we couldn’t get refunds on the tickets because they were advance purchases. Nice.)

After a few minor meltdowns at this news we decided to make the best of it. Lancaster’s only 20 minutes away from Preston by train (part of the reason for applying for the job in the first place) so I would go there after my interview and we’d have a weekend in Preston instead.

We figured that as we were going to spend money doing Edinburgh things like go to the castle we would spend the money on (another) train ticket and travel into Manchester for the day and be tourists there instead. Even though we’ve both lived there...you know what I mean.

So we did what all good tourists do and went to a museum, specifically the Museum of Science & Industry, which I have to hold my hand up and say I never went to in the whole time I lived there. That could be because I’m allergic to science though.

It is full of science things you know. And industry things. The main thing that excited me was finding out that there was actually a reason the place I lived in was called Whitworth Park – he was a real-life person! Hurrah.

I won’t lie. There’s a reason I did an arts degree. I can’t get excited about science. I CAN however get excited about it when it’s interactive. Aaah it’s a magical word – and MOSI uses it to the max with the whole 2nd floor devoted to hands on science. I can’t get enough of that to be honest – you just have to be prepared to shove some children out of the way. Cretins.

Also. There is a whole hall that’s devoted to the textile industry with looms and all sorts of stuff in it. I like that bit. (Apologies for conforming to stereotype.) But I definitely wasn’t enthralled by the hall with the engines in it. I did get momentarily excited when I thought I could climb into an old railway carriage but it turns out that you couldn’t, you could just look in it. At the engine. Boo.

I might not love science but I do love food and after some productive window shopping and real life shopping (frame reduced in Habitat from £9 to £2 yes please thank you very much) we were seduced by the smells coming from the market in Piccadilly Gardens and got us some chicken tikka and kebab wraps. I declare it the best £7 The Person has ever spent on food.

A quick trip to the Northern Quarter was in order after that for drinks with a friend. Trof was rammed to the rafters but we managed to squeeze in to Apotheca to have a drink and a catch up before we took our tired little bodies back to Preston for the evening.

Evening activities included going to The Olive Press for food. The verdict? Meh. Alright but nothing to write home about. However you can get two cocktails for £6 all day every day and that most definitely is something to write home about. We sat on big comfy armchairs in candlelight and got to be a real life couple, instead of the part-timers we usually are. We cocktailed our way out of there and on to another bar, before stocking up on crisps and Toblerone and heading home to watch The Hangover (where have I been? That film was amazeballs.)

The Person is kind enough to let me watch the Hollyoaks Omnibus every Sunday morning, against his better judgement and despite all his whining. He likes it really, he just won’t admit it. And then there was the familiar onset of depression as the day drew to a close and I realised that I’d be going home and won’t get to see him again until the end of March.

Not quite Edinburgh, but not too shabby either.

More photos can be found with one little click of the mouse here

*Yeah. Waste of time. I didn’t get the job. Apparently I’m awesome but was up against someone with a PhD. Which begs the question....why invite me to interview in the first bloody place?!

Productive

This weekend I was taken over by a curious force.


The force to do things.

I’m not really a lazy person at all, I find it incredibly difficult to sit still and do nothing, my hands have to be doing something, my mind has to be engaged and I can sit for at most about an hour before I have to get up and stretch my legs and do something. But even so, this force was something else.

It started on Friday night, I had a little plan in my head of what I was going to do – come in, start making my own curry (why have I never done this before?! Silly girl. Don’t need a jar, just a bit of curry paste!) and then while it was cooking, get in the shower and wash my hair. I’m a big fan of efficiency – why would I hang about for 40 minutes while my curry cooked when I could use that 40 minutes to do something useful.

And so it began.

I showered, I dusted and hoovered downstairs, I scrubbed the kitchen, did all the washing up, scrubbed the hob clean, I fluffed up cushions, I was content.

The trouble with these ‘Doing’ Binges is that they have a tendency to take over and go out of control and on Friday night I started making a list. A list of every little thing I needed to do in a weekend which was already going to be taken up with a day trip to Manchester on the Saturday. I cannot explain how much I love a good list, no better feeling than crossing things off a list so every tiny insignificant thing went on there. I was on fire.

And so this weekend I did the following:

- 2 loads of washing done, (1 load dried, sorted and put away)
- Got drunk on Gluhwein at the Christmas markets (note to self, eat breakfast before you get to Manchester, otherwise that stuff will go straight to your head)
 - Gave the patchwork blanket to its new owner (part of me wanted to make her open it there and then but I resisted) - Bought all my wrapping paper, gift boxes, shredded paper etc
- Wrapped all my Christmas presents (I always forget how long this takes, I was up until 1am doing it!)

- Made a Christmas Cake (yes purists I should have done it ages ago but I didn’t, so, you know, get over it.)

Don't worry, it's not anaemic, this is before I put it in the oven!

- Got my picture up on the wall finally after moving in 6 months ago (with the help of Dad who also broke one of the slats on my bed by putting his whole bloody weight on it. Brilliant.)
- Wrote my Christmas cards (I know that people say it’s cheaper to make them than buy them but I got 18 cards for £1.99 from The Card Factory which I thought was pretty damn good)
- Finished making a Christmas wreath (post to come on that later in the week)
- Uploaded photos on to my much neglected Flickr account (trying to get in practice because I want to do Project 365 next year!)
- Cleaned the house from top to bottom (you have to have a clean house before you start decorating)
- Started to get out the decorations ready to decorate the house on Tuesday
- Put some decorations up in my bedroom
- Watched the Coronation Street omnibus so I could finally understand what everyone’s been blathering on about (might not sound productive but I did it whilst....)
- Finished my Mum’s blanket (Yes. You did read that right.)

It felt rather amazing. I really don't like feeling like I haven't done anything and now I can rest easy knowing that everything is done, all that's left to do is post those presents to the people living far away and I am officially ready to sit back and let the festive cheer wash over me.

(And take photos of that blanket so I can crow about finishing it.)

Things I have learned over the past five days...

• I miss going to gigs and watching live music. When I lived in Manchester I went all the time and now I’m in Hull there’s nothing doing. Mostly because no bugger ever comes to Hull.

• I also miss going to smaller gigs. I’d never been to big full-on stadium or arena tours until a couple of years ago and I miss just bobbing along to the Academy to watch someone. The atmosphere is a thousand times better and the tickets are about half the price.

• I love Goldfrapp. I saw her a few a years ago and loved her then and I still love her now. I’ve never been to a gig where the lead singer is so note perfect – her voice is haunting. (It would be nice to have a bit more crowd interaction though.)
• I should not watch The Office Christmas Specials before I’m about to meet my boyfriend’s friends for the first time. I will cry all over the place when Tim and Dawn get together, my eye make-up will be ruined and I’ll look like I’ve just had a massive argument. Alternatively, I should wait to do my make-up until after I’ve watched The Office Christmas Specials.

• When feeling nervous about meeting people for the first time I will turn to drink. I’ve tried to avoid it and I will continue to try to avoid it but for the moment I have accepted that it’s just inevitable. As long as I don’t drink too much it shouldn’t be a problem. Instead it masks my insecurities very well and allows me to actually converse with people instead of sitting in a corner and smiling inanely.
• Do not attempt to do Christmas shopping when you’re slightly hungover and incredibly tired from the night before. If you do you will balls up in Vom Fass and discover once you’re at the till that the nice £20 bottle of whiskey you wanted to get your Dad is actually £45 and you will have to go through the embarrassment of saying “Sorry. I can’t afford that, can we start again please?” (I’m still blushing whenever I think about it.)
• A Marmite pop-up shop has opened in Selfridges in Manchester and I want everything they sell. Like all of it.
• The Singapore chow mein from the Chinese takeaway at the end of my street is my new favourite thing and I want to eat it every day. Scrub that. ALL day, every day.
• That boy I’m seeing may just be more of a cat whisperer than I am. He walked in the house and within 5 minutes Maggie was sat against his leg, purring away. She hadn’t even come to say hello to me. And Fred – the little ginger whinger who hides from all who enter Mum’s house, walked right on over to him. My mouth still hasn’t closed from the shock of it.
• Lily will object to you putting elasticated Christmas -themed jester collars adorned with bells on her neck. But it will be hilarious. (There is photographic evidence but I’d need to steal my Mum’s camera first.)
  
• Rooms at the Premier Inn have the worst lighting known to man. I nearly killed myself when I first looked in the mirror upon getting ready for my friend’s wedding. And yes I looked that bad.
• Lovely, pretty (and expensive) dresses from Coast that fit you perfectly 2 weeks ago can suddenly be too big for you (I’ve only lost about 6lbs since I last tried it on) and this can induce major panic. Thankfully I have a wonderwoman for a housemate who advised I buy Velcro “just in case” it got too big. And didn’t just advise me, actually went out and bought it for me. Thanks to her the dress was velcroed to my bra and stayed up all night.
• Watching one of your best friends get married will be more emotional than you can imagine. So emotional that for about the first hour you won’t even be able to look at her without crying. Seriously. In fact even thinking about her started me crying.
• I’m still the best minesweeper in town. I didn’t pay for a drink all night. It’s not my fault people don’t like their champagne and don’t drink all the bottles of wine that are on their tables.
• Every time I see him, I leave, loving him a little bit more.
• Coming back to work on Monday when you’ve been off since Wednesday, sucks.