En Pointe

One of my Not Really Resolutions this year is to design and make my own amigurumi and I'm looking forward to putting pen to paper and getting thinking and inspired.

But if I didn't want to bother with designing my own piece I wouldn't have to worry as I have approximately eleventy billion patterns that I can follow. I think my book count is up at about 5 or 6 now and I have a huge lever arch file which is full of patterns that I've pulled out of magazines such as Simply Crochet or Inside Crochet.

There are also a couple of other magazines on the shelves including #crochet and Love Crochet and I *think* it is the latter that this pattern came from...

Would you just look at her? She is almost too much.

I decided to make her for my niece for Christmas and also decided to do something which I never do - buy the wool that's recommended in the pattern. Why not, it was Christmas after all. So I ditched my normal Stylecraft DK and used DMC Natura which is a 100% cotton yarn. It comes in 50g balls which doesn't sound like much, but it is only 4 ply so a little can go a long way.

And because it was 4 ply it called for a smaller hook than the 4mm that I am used to using. Quite a bit smaller in fact, a 2.5mm bad boy.

There was a lot of swearing when I first started this project. I felt like a giant with a toothpick when I was trying to manipulate the 2.5mm hook and the 100% cotton was so soft that it would literally slip off my hook unbidden at times.

But once I got into a rhythm it started to go pretty well. She did take a while though. Using that much smaller of a hook required a lot of concentration and I was nowhere near as fast as I would have been if I had been using a 4mm hook.

I was worried that her body was freakishly long at first and it is indeed freahishly long. But rest assured that once you have the tutu added and the arms sewn on, she starts to come together.

The tutu was my absolutely favourite bit to do and was hugely satisfying as the constant increasing led to the ruffling of her skirt. I did sew the tutu on to the body but you would be able to leave it and then there's the possibility of making more tutus so she can have outfit changes. Now there's a thought...

I was also slightly concerned about her lack of face and thought it might be super creepy and freak my niece out. I'm actually still waiting for to receive this little ballerina so I'm hoping for the best.

Her head is also pretty massive compared to her body and consequently she's quite floppy. There was a point when I worried whether I was propagating unrealistic body image (only joking) but I can't explain it - she just works once she's all put together and in place.

My absolute favourite part was adding her hair and I could have done that all day and all night, it looked so cool once it was all added and it was so simple to do yet looks brilliant.

Gathering it all up into a bun on the top of her head was pretty much as stressful as I find it to gather all my own hair into a bun on the top of my head, and so it isn't absolutely perfect and there are a couple of stray hairs wanting to escape from her very pretty bun cover, but I couldn't have her looking too perfect could I?

She is a dainty little creature and I'll be honest I'm a tiny bit fearful that she might not stand up to my niece's rough and tumble ways. I'm hoping that my sister-in-law will take one look at her and perhaps suggest that she's kept for best. But I'm now looking for an excuse to make her using a chunkier wool and a bigger hook as I think this lovely ballerina lady will look beautiful in any size.

See? No propagating of unrealistic body image here.

Somerset's Best Kept Secret

"When we're arranging for you to come and see us in November we'll try and time it for when there's a Carnival on."

I'll be honest, Dad says a lot of stuff that I don't really take in, but this was one of the few times that I actually stopped and listened. He didn't really seem able to explain it - kept talking about tractors and floats and lightbulbs and saying that I should look it up on You Tube.

I politely declined and put it to the back of my mind.

So when I arrived in Crewkerne on 7th November I was greeted with the news that the next day we would be going to the North Petherton Carnival.

I was still in the dark.

It wasn't until I discovered Louisa via that day's Photo an Hour hashtag on Twitter that things became a lot clearer.

I'll let you read her post about the origins but you basically need to know a couple of things:

- There are tractors pulling floats
- The floats are decorated up the wazoo in lightbulbs
- Some floats have insane hydraulics systems built into them
- It's bloody freezing
- It's absolutely amazing

First thing you need to know? You have to get there early. The roads in and out of North Petherton close by 5.30pm to prepare for the Carnival so if you want to go to the Carnival you have to go to the Carnival. You have to commit, which for us meant queueing on the M5 with the hazard lights on as the tailback went all the way down the sliproad and into the inside lane.

So you're in North Petherton. You're parked. It's 5.30pm. The Carnival isn't due to start until 7.00pm. What are you supposed to do?

The answer is go into the bowling club and drink some goddamn cider and shove a hot dog in your face. Obviously.

We were eager little beavers and made our way to stand on the side of the street at 6.45pm for the beginning of the Carnival. Kind of a mistake. This is where the insider info comes in useful and the next time I go to a Carnival I'll be well prepared. You need to bring with you:

Folding chairs

Thermos

Lots o' food

Blanket

For the Carnival did not reach us until 8.30pm. Trust me, standing on a dark street in the freezing cold,  in the dark, staring at a hedgerow for almost two hours does not happy campers make. I can make the best out of most situations, but I was starting to lose the will to live after a while. If I'd been sat on my bum under a blanket reading a book I'd have been grand though.

There is honestly, nothing that can prepare you for a Carnival. I'd looked at Louisa's photos and I had been forced to watch a couple of You Tube videos before we left but I still didn't get the huge scale of the floats that we're talking about.

I cannot even conceive how long it takes to put all of this together, I can only imagine the Carnival Clubs have started planning their themes for 2015 already. The carpentry alone but when I say hydraulics I mean hydraulics. These are big giant floats being pulled by tractors, with moving parts on them.

Dad had first heard about the Somerset Carnivals when talking to a local who told him a story about a Health & Safety officer being poached from one Carnival Club by another. I can now see why - this is a Health & Safety Officer's wet dream. Electricity? Massive floats? People on the sides of the streets? People singing and dancing flailing around on the floats? Did I mention the hydraulics?

Spot the tractor driver. Hint: It's not the guy in the top hat

I cannot even understand how I have never heard of this Carnival stuff before. There they are, banging on about cider all the time when Somerset should be banging on about this. Tek your Rio and shove it - this is Carnival British Style aka in the cold and dark. But with chippy vans so, you know, swings and roundabouts.

Carnival is so far up my street it's untrue. 

Bright lights? Check

Loud music to dance to? Check

Strangers acting and singing and dancing (and even more unbelievably, standing stock still in the Tableau Class - I don't even understand how they could do that.)? Check

Strangers standing on the street that you can talk to? Erm, check.

The whole thing lasted about an hour and a half or so and I was stood there with a gaping mouth like a complete moron for about 75% of it. The remaining 25% I was dancing and singing.

At the end of it all it was back to the car park and a surprisingly quick get away. I had visions of us being stuck there for hours but the road is opened in one direction only and we were on our way back home in no time at all. (With the heating in the car turned up as high as it would go.)

There isn't any more I can say, other than to urge you to maybe think about taking a little weekend trip down to Somerset in October/November 2015 to see it for yourself.

Trust me, you don't want to miss out on Somerset's best kept secret.

(Did I mention the hydraulics?)

Photo an Hour l 8th November

I am loving these Photo an Hour posts you know. It means I have a guaranteed topic to post about once a month - anything to save me from the horror of working out what I'm supposed to write about.

I was initially quite excited about the choice of the 8th November as I knew I was going to be away visiting my Dad in Somerset - a change of scenery is usually a good omen from some more interesting photos than when you're just twatting about at home - but unfortunately the heavens poured down upon us most of the day so you can expect a fairly crochet-laden post coming up.

Pop over to Is That You Darling to see others' posts and to find out the date of the next Photo an Hour day which will be in December. And remember you can also join in on Twitter and Instagram using #photoanhour

This was Saturday 8th November...

10am - A late start to the day with a little read in bed. Mrs Dalloway is November's Classic as part of my Not Really Resolutions - I purposely picked quite a thin one as I have been running a bit behind schedule lately!

11am - Ablutions time. Anyone else remember a day when just getting ready was a case of splashing your face with some water and being good to go? I'm not even a girly girl and I'm astonished at the amount of paraphernalia I seem to cart about with me, although that's mostly due to the fact that I don't empty anything out and just add more to the pile...

12.10pm - Rubbish weather? Can only mean one thing - time for crochet. But what on earth could it be that I'm making?

1.10pm - Lunchtime and a continuation of the absolutely god-awful weather

2.10pm - What am I making? A Father Christmas of course! Since swearing that I was going to make a job lot of them and sell them at Christmas I made three and then promptly made no more. It is time to get my bum in gear because these guys really don't take that long to work up. In fact this would have been completed much earlier if it wasn't for the fact that I had a complete brain malfunction and forgot to change back to red wool and merrily crocheted along for 6 rows of 42-odd stitches. Yaaaaaay.

3.15pm - Finished! I had no idea these guys worked up this quickly. Thank goodness for Photo an Hour, I would never have known that it takes roughly an hour to work up the bobble for Father Christmas' hat, his hat trim, his face, beard and moustache, attach all the above and sew on a little face. Good to know these things.

4.30pm - This is how I know I'm in the country. You go somewhere to buy dog food and outside they have what can only be described as a fuckton of carrots. It's an official measurement. For a second I thought that people in Somerset really liked their rabbits, before twigging that they're probably for horses.

5.25pm - You see this is why Photo an Hour is brilliant. There I was idly browsing through #photoanhour tweets when I came across Louisa who was talking about editing some Carnival photos. I couldn't believe it as I was on my way to the North Petherton Carnival, something I had never ever heard about until Dad piped up that it would be where we would be spending our evening. How very cool is that?! (Check out Louisa's post from last year which explains what exactly it is I'm talking about). Anyway. 5.25pm we were stuck in some immense carnival traffic trying to get off the M5 and into North Petherton before the road closed for the Carnival.

6.20pm - Officially trapped in North Petherton with time to kill before the Carnival started at 7pm there was nothing for it but to hunker down in the bowling club house with a hot dog and pint of cider.

7.35pm - One of my least favourite things is standing still in the cold. Be warned that going to a Carnival involves a lot of standing still in the cold. I was just thankful it wasn't wet as well. To keep warm I jumped about like an idiot in to the road to see if I could see the start of it. We had a long wait on our hands...

8.30pm - The first float! Hurrah. After an hour and a half of standing in the cold staring at a hedge this was a welcome sight. Little did I know what I was about to witness. It was absolutely mind boggling.

9.25pm - Honestly. When someone says you're going to see an illuminated float parade you don't really know what's in store for you. This was insane and will clearly have a post of its own once I've gone through the 4,000 pictures that I took and begun to compose my thoughts about it.

10.30pm - Back in the car and on the way home down the back roads

11.30pm - Back home feeling cold to our very bones and glad to be in the warmth. Max was also happy to see us but mostly sad that he had been abandoned for the evening.

Photo an Hour l 11th October 2014

It feels as if this month's Photo an Hour post has come around incredibly quickly, but I think that's just a result of the past month being kind of mental for me and that I've only just got around to posting September's Photo an Hour post.

Pop over to Is That You Darling to see others' posts and to find out the date of the next Photo an Hour day which will be in November and you can join in on Twitter and Instagram using #photoanhour

This was Saturday 11th October 2014...

9am - Woke up with raging hangover from a fairly decent session on the Friday night. Lily didn't mind my probably outrageous breath and sat beside me hoping for toast.

10am - Went to my brother & sister-in-law's house for the morning and played with some brilliant sticky mosaic tiles that were supposedly something my 4 year old niece was supposed to be doing. It was so massively therapeutic I can't even tell you.

11am - One finished creation!

12pm - This is Lucinda, my brother's cat. She has the loudest miaow and purr ever. She comes storming in, yelling her head off and isn't fussed at all about who gives her attention. She's so loving and I want to just pick her up and smoosh her forever.

1pm - My niece was going out in the afternoon for a party so put her party frock on. I need shoes like this. I also need to start wearing hot pink tights with silver sparkly shoes. It's a winner.

2pm - All of us played a very confusing game of Kerplunk! in which the kids seemed to think that when the marbles dropped that meant you won. It actually worked quite well because it meant that I was happy that I didn't have to do badly on purpose to let them win (my most hated part of playing with kids because I'm such a sore loser) and they had a brilliant time every time they did it wrong.

3pm - Back in Hull and a quick trip into town with Mumsie

4pm - The Grand Return of the Missing Bag. The previous day I had gone to Waterstones and bought some lovely things. Mum was looking after the bag and left it on the bus. She was absolutely devastated so I had to play things down but there was a fairly large part of me that wanted to throw myself on the ground and scream. On the way back from town on Saturday we stopped in at lost property to check and it had been handed in. Hurrah!

Kind of. Turned out my "Good Samaritan" had taken some stuff out of the bag and left the books in there. Ah well. Can't get too mad about it...

5pm - Got back home for a cup of tea and a muffin. It was needed. With a hangover like mine on this day it's a wonder I even got this far through the day without collapsing.

6pm - Lily gets down to the important business of foot washing and nail biting.

7pm - Starting to sit down for dinner. Salad + garlic bread + steak + onion rings - the way to make me a very happy person.

8pm - Mum and I were still sat round the table talking when I glanced over and spotted this super creepy Lily sitting and waiting to see if we were finished so she could try and attack our plates.

9pm - Sat down with super cool lounge pants and thick socks and cider and promptly fell asleep in front of Midsomer Murders. Form an orderly queue gentleman...

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I feel terrible that Fred didn't even get a look in on these photos so here's a bonus Fred picture...

Photo an Hour l 13th September 2014

I've been unsure how to proceed with blogging at the moment. I have such a massive backlog of things that I wanted to blog about but after recent events it has thrown me slightly. Everything that I wanted to blog about involves him in some  way and there's a part of me that just wants to forget about everything that has anything to do with him.

But at the same time they are my memories too and even if they are painful, this blog has been used as a vessel to document my life for better or worse.

I've had this post saved in my drafts for some time. I was really excited when the Is That You Darling Photo an Hour challenge for September landed on one of the days that I was at my Dad's house in France. I dutifully took my photos and as soon as I was back I got them all lined up ready to post. Unfortunately the next day he left me and then....well....the rest is history.

But fuck it. This was my holiday - so what if during the taking of these photos I was blissfully unaware that my boyfriend already had a flat lined up for him to move into and had his furniture from Argos on standby? At the time I was blissfully unaware and I can't let hindsight ruin everything I have done.

And so. This was Saturday 13th September 2014...

9am - The view out of the window of the attic room we were staying in at Dad's house. 

10am - Jean-Louis is the farmer who lives opposite Dad. This is his tractor. The view, the view belongs to everyone.

11am - Took the dogs, Max and Shadow, for a little pootle about the roads, stopping to take photos of road signs along the way...

12pm - Relaxing was the order of the day. Dad had asked if we wanted to do a lot of activities and I declined. I needed to just chill out and take advantage of the glorious sunshine, reading my book and drinking cherry juice.

1pm - Lunchtime. Crunchy bread with ham and massive slices of cheese. Perfection.

2pm - Unending, glorious sunshine. I couldn't get enough of it.

3pm - Took a walk down the road from Dad's house to a little graveyard a couple of minutes down the road. I was particularly taken with the simplicity of this marker. What an incredibly peaceful place for your final resting place.

4pm - The nearby Sarrans Dam is currently being drained by EDF for maintenance work to take place. It's almost impossible to imagine but the water is normally up to the treeline. Mind boggling. If you take a look at page 2 of this brochure you can see what it normally looks like...

5pm - Following on from the trip to the Sarrans Dam we took Max and Shadow for a walk along the river. Max, in true Golden Retriever style loves swimming. Unfortunately he threw himself in a particularly deep part of the lake and shortly after this photo was taken I had to almost jump in to haul him out.

6pm - Chopping up green beans for dinner

7pm - Dinner, featuring the world's strongest mustard known to man.

8pm - Time to take a million pictures of the sun setting. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to take a picture of a sunset which is as beautiful as the real thing.

9pm - In an attempt to sample an authentic part of French life we decided to be cultural and go to a local music night in the next village along featuring some local choirs. In hindsight this turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes we've ever made. It was outrageously dull and incomprehensibly long and seriously not a single person speaks English and my French GCSE is but a distant memory. But, hey, at least I can say I did it.

10pm - Singing. Singing and singing and singing

11pm - Interval time. Note the time. 11pm. And this was the interval. We didn't get home until after midnight, and never have I been more relieved to crawl into bed.

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Next Photo an Hour is set for Saturday October 11th - people join in via Twitter or Instagram using #photoanhour.

I should warn you, this date I will be back at my Mum's so there are basically going to be a lot of photos of Fred & Lily...

The one who moves away

It’s a funny feeling being the one who moves away.

I get a lot of “It’s been too longs!” or “When are you coming back for a weekend?!” and I answer and go “I know, I’ve just been so busy and haven’t had the chance to come home, I’ll let you know when I’m back and we can go out.”

I explain that for me to get home at a price that doesn’t cripple me I take the Megabus. Unfortunately the times that the Megabuses run are not convenient if you work Monday-Friday so for me to come home I either have to take a Friday off work, or not arrive until 1.30pm on the Saturday afternoon.

And then I stop and think.

Where are the messages and texts saying “When are you free? We’ll make a trip up to see you!”? Where are the people offering to sacrifice their precious annual leave to make the trip over to the Midlands?

But of course I don’t get those messages.

Because I’m the one who moved away.

Birthdays tend to be a good example. I was asked recently whether I would be coming back to Hull for someone’s birthday in May. I was told that it didn’t need to be expensive because they were probably just going to go out for a meal and go to the cinema.

I have to take a deep breath with these situations. I want to ask people to really think for a second what they’re asking me to do. In this case I’m being asked to take time off work to come back to Hull to go to the cinema…

It would be fine if people accepted that you couldn’t come back for everything but unfortunately they can’t. Everyone likes to think that they’re special (myself included) and that someone would want to come back for their birthday, if you don’t then it’s taken as a rejection of friendship.

And yet, let’s talk about my birthday. Nobody says to me “Right, so when are we coming over for your birthday then?” instead I’m asked what I’m doing and I’m asked if I’m coming back to Hull to celebrate.

Because I’m the one who moved away.

Coming back has now become a stressful experience rather than the relaxed feeling you should get upon returning to the city that I love. It’s become a military exercise of trying to shoehorn everyone in and trying to keep everyone happy. Least of all has it become about spending time with my Mum.

You know, my retired Mum who is almost 70 and lives on her own and might actually enjoy having her daughter around to spend time with. A daughter who doesn’t come home and stay there for five minutes before dashing out to meet up with someone for coffee/go out for a night out. It’s not like we have grand adventures planned, but she likes to make dinner for me and watch a bit of rubbish TV and wander over the fields to Matalan. It’s simple but it’s what we like to do and I hate that my time with her becomes compromised or becomes something that I fit in around when everyone else is free to meet up with me.

In fact it’s so bad that when my Dad and his partner actually left Hull to move down to Somerset I was basically relieved. One less visit to try and cram in when I venture back home.

I’ve even thought about sneaking trips back home to see Mum so I can avoid the guilt trips that follow when I’ve been back and haven’t had chance to see absolutely everyone I know that lives in Hull.

Being the one who moved away means that you are simultaneously expected to make new friendships whilst maintaining the ones back at home. People resent you for making new friends and moving on, having new in-jokes and “You had to be there” stories. But at the same time, people resent you for not keeping up-to-date with their news – after all you should be the one constantly checking in and finding out what’s happening,

Because you’re the one who moved away.

A very old Christmas Wish List

I have seen many of the Christmas wish lists posts floating about on many blogs over this past festive month and I wondered if I would join in.

But then I realised that I don't really know how to do one of those collage posts (and I should really because Bonjour Blogger totally has a post on how to do collages, helpful blog that it is), nor is there anything really post-worthy that I would want. Books. Any books. Just get me some books, yeah?

As fortune would have it, I don't need to write a wish list. I can just show you this one;

When down visiting my Dad and his wife at the end of November, he presented me with a letter which he had found.

It was a letter I had written to Father Christmas. It has no date on it, although I could probably take a stab looking at the items on there. All Dad could tell me was that he knew I definitely didn't get anything that I'd put on this list for Christmas that year.

I did eventually end up with a couple of things on there, I think they were birthday presents, so goodness knows what happened this particular year. But luckily for me it is still here to share today.

For those who find it difficult to read my pencil scrawl, this is the letter in its entirety:

Dear Father Christmas,

This is what you may be able to bring me at Christmas [so polite and yet to the point!]

A pair of slippers 

[starting sensibly you see, you don't go in with the big demands first]

The Penny swimming pool

Dream Dance Barbie

or, three wishes Sindy,

Paint me a picture Sindy

some boots, shoes, roller boots for Barbie,

and some clothes for Barbie,

Spirograph

A girls world head,

a shell suit,

a teenage mutant hero turtle t-shirt

a teenage mutant hero turtle glove puppet,

I have a feeling that this was a draft letter that I wrote out before writing a neat version to send off to Father Christmas.

There was one thing that I wanted more than anything on this list and I know a request was made on more than one Christmas list and birthday list over the years.

A Girl's World Head.

Oh how I dreamed that I would have that frankly weird head that I could slather make up on and backcomb it's horrible hair. I had a friend who always had the coolest toys - she had one of those Mr Frosty machines and she had a Sega Megadrive - and I would go round to her house and not so secretly covet it, but it was never meant to be.

Nor sadly was my request for a shell suit which was another long-standing wish list attendee. It does mean I have no hideous photos of me in the 90s wearing one though...

I did eventually end up with a Spirograph so, you know, don't feel too sorry for me.

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Also, remember when they were called Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles instead of Ninja because they thought if they called it that we'd all turn violent from watching it? Fun times.

Bank Holiday - BEDM Day 6

I love May. Two Bank Holidays - what lucky ducks we are.

I had made plans to spend this Bank Holiday up at my sister's and the 2nd down in Preston with The Person although this plan has been slightly ruined due to the fact that The Person's work doesn't let him have the 2nd Bank Holiday in May off, instead giving them two in August.

Idiots.

Anyhoo. This Bank Holiday saw me in my adopted home town, ready to see what delights it had to offer me.

Here's how it went down;

Saturday

My new zebra friend; getting to grips with the Kitchen Aid; Raspberry Bakewell cake; Hull City get promoted to the Premiership; going swimming; BBQ time is here

Saturday was a busy old day for me. I got up early doors to make my way to the gym to go swimming for the first time in absolutely years. I used to love swimming and haven't been in so long, truth to tell I was kind of worried that I'd flounder and drown ungracefully in the pool but I actually managed much better than I expected and I'm definitely going to be making the effort to go again.

I spent most of the day crocheting. Hot on the heels of my crocheted zebra comes....another zebra. I haven't gone totally mad though. This little zebra is going to earn me some money. I was showing someone pictures of the other zebra and they asked if I'd make one for them to give as a present for a new baby that's arrived. Boom. Hurray for amigurumi being so damn quick to make up that I basically managed to do the whole thing in one day. 

It's a good thing I had something to keep me occupied as I was also watching the Hull City vs Cardiff game which would be the match which would determine whether Hull were automatically promoted to the Premiership or forced into the play-offs. I won't go into it but my god it was the most stressful game of football I've ever watched. I actually missed one of the goals due to the fact that I was stood in the kitchen with the fridge door open cutting cheese off the block and shoving it in my mouth. It's how I deal with stress.

I also helped my sister and brother-in-law put together the Mac Daddy of BBQs - probably the less said about the anguish that went into building this thing from a flatpack the better, but it's safe to say we all bear the mental scars.

Sunday

Today's biggest event? Attempting to go out for a long run. It wasn't my greatest success as you can read about in yesterday's post and it's annoying because when I feel like a run hasn't gone that well it just makes me mad for the rest of the day. I'm just a silly person like that.

One thing I do like about my long runs though is that I have decided to reward myself with a post-run smoothie - something to look forward to you know?

I got a recipe for one from a running website but I have been forced to bastardise adapt it so much that it bears little resemblance to the original. The oats are supposed to be wheatgerm. I don't even know what that is, which is a hindrance when you're looking for is in Tesco. There's supposed to be natural yoghurt in there too but I didn't have any so slapped a normal yoghurt in there as a replacement. Who cares? It tastes amazing and the addition of the oats means that it really fills you up.

The rest of the day was filled with total and utter sloth. Beautiful weather, plus the knowledge that there was no work tomorrow meant that I felt free to lie back in the garden alternating between reading and sleeping as the mood took me.

Reading with the blue skies; dandelions, I don't care if they're weeds, they're colour and therefore pretty; Rosie shows me how to properly laze on the Bank Holiday; Blinky uses my bedroom window as another door and heads out over the roof on important cat business; plane returning/leaving from East Midlands Airport; Blinky back from her important cat business.

Monday

My sister and I took to Calke Abbey a National Trust property which is just down the road from us. Our mission was to go to a craft fair which was being held there over the Bank Holiday weekend - craft fair? You mean something potentially interesting happening around here? Yes please.

We went and I spent money. I could have spent a lot more money. But you know what? That's all fodder for another blog post I think.

After wandering round the fair we had a sit down and enjoyed a wonderful past-time of enjoying the sun and passing judgement on what people were wearing in the sun.
e

As close to fashion blogging as I will come now - shoes from M&S (I know right?!); jeans from New Look; people's legs from Other People

I also forgot the word "Weather-vane" and called it a "Wind charm" instead. Not a high point.

Then it was home, to enjoy yet more sunshine. Only for a little bit though. I'm quite the pale Janet and my skin basically bursts into flames when it comes into contact with UV rays. I wasn't alone though. You never are in a house of dogs. Rowan kept me company and I finished Capital by John Lanchester. Should you read it? Why yes, yes you should.

And I'm still here now. Sat in the garden, enjoying the beautiful weather as I know I should be. Although, if I was going to be pernickety I'd say that actually when you're in the shade it's pretty windy and not that warm. Also I can't really see my screen that well so I apologise for any spelling mistakes or garish errors but I'm British - the sun is shining so I'm sitting outside whether it's practical or not.

Bring it second May Bank Holiday - the bar has been raised...

Youth

The same battle is waged every single evening at my sister's house...

The Battle of the Dishwasher

A.k.a. The only real chore my 17 and 13 year old nephews have to do round the house (why yes this does bug me, how could you tell?) 

Despite it being a task they can absolutely rely on to happen every day, they repeatedly have to be asked to empty and refill the dishwasher after every meal and the same amount of sighing and general slothness of movement is acted out each time.

They've managed to turn this relatively simple task into the most complicated dance around the kitchen you've ever seen. It takes 5 times longer than anyone else would take to empty it and results in 5 times the damage done to the crockery.

Every so often the eldest nephew trots out the same old sob story, pointing at his younger brother, "He owes me. I had to unload the dishwasher by myself for 6 weeks when he broke his arm"

 My usual response is something along the lines of "And pray tell how did you make it through such a trying time in your life?" But the other day I tried another tack...

"Well in a year's time you will leave to go to uni and your brother will have 4 long years of unloading the dishwasher ahead of him."

"No no it won't even it out," snorted my nephew derisively in that manner that teenagers have that makes you want to beat them round the head with a wet sponge, "because I'll be unloading my own dishwasher at uni."

I never heard if he said anything else, I was too busy cackling and repeating "A dishwasher at uni?!" and rolling around on the floor...

Easter 2013

I feel it only fair to warn you that this post contains photos of flowers.

I know. I've become that which I rage against.

I'm still having an internal battle as to what I want this blog to be. I'm a person who actually quite enjoys a label and I find it difficult that I don't have an identifiable "thing" but at the same time I also quite enjoy just talking about a load of old bollocks and committing events to the everlasting memory that is the interwebs.

Easter wasn't just about taking part in the Easter Read-a-thon I'll have you know. I was busy doing all kinds of things apart from taking photos of me reading books and giving blood. This was a family weekend, with my Mum and The Person coming over to stay at my sister's for the Easter weekend.

It was also a kind of pre-birthday celebration for most of the people in the house. As I've mentioned in blog posts gone past there are a lot of birthdays in the last weeks of March/first week of April. Easter Monday was my nephew's birthday, the 4th is my and my brother-in-law's birthday and the 5th is my other nephew's birthday. Quite the birthday week.

My sister and all her lot are in Center Parcs this week (damn them!) and I will be with The Person on my birthday so this was a chance to have a little pre-birthday excitement.

This meant that I was allowed to do one of my favourite things ever - open presents early. Hurrah!

My Mum, sister, brother-in-law, brother and sister-in-law had all clubbed together to get me a present and I was allowed to open it up on Saturday night. I was beside myself to discover that it was my most coveted precious of all time. A Cambridge Satchel Company satchel, in my most beloved green with my initials embossed on it.

 Please note I am following one of my Fashion Blogger rules: Don't look directly at the camera. I'm learning!

I have squealed and stuck my head in it and breathed in deeply and generally been in a trance with it ever since. I love it I love it I love it. Although I feel that now I own one I need to seriously think about becoming a Fashion Blogger.

Just kidding.

I would show you better pictures of it but I don't have any so you'll just have to deal with it.

It was a weekend of not a great deal though - a couple of dog walks - which aren't the most stressless of activities given that neither dog is particularly good on a lead (totally my family's fault, they haven't made the effort with training them) - some wandering into the town centre, an awful lot of eating and just having some generally good times.

The collage below nicely sums it up - dogs, food, presents, flowers, nature. BOOM.

Easter L-R: Rosie looking longingly outside; birthday bruschetta; PRESENTS; birthday pavlova; flower alert; Nigella's Spring Chicken; Duck spotting on our Easter Sunday walk; pretty stream; Rowan having a paddle.

And finally I will leave you with this photo of Blinky.

This is not a photo where I just happen to have captured her and she looks like she's pulling an angry face, this is just how she looks all of the time. See what I'm up against?

And yes this post is late. But I think we know by know that they're always late when it comes to me. Please, feel free to re-live your own Easter.

Easter Read-a-thon - Easter Sunday & Easter Monday update

We have reached the end of the Easter Read-a-thon and I feel a little sad.

As I mentioned in my first post above, sometimes I feel guilty for reading. And I know that's silly but in this day and age where there's more of a constant pressure to be 'switched on' and 'doing' in some way, reading feels like the ultimate luxury.

The Read-a-thon has in a way given me permission to sit back and relax and do the thing that I like doing.

I know there'll be people out there shaking their heads in bemusement at that notion but that is how it is for me and I've enjoyed it.

So Easter Sunday and Easter Monday.

Much like my Thursday-Saturday update, I enlisted the help of my trusty camera to record the moments I had to myself to have a little read.

Easter Sunday saw me having a little read of Toby's Room by Pat Barker at the dining room table with the tulips and my chocolate Easter bunny. The reason for this? My brother-in-law enjoys watching all TV at approximately 12 billion decibels and it literally hurts my ears.

I also gave blood on Easter Sunday, which seems like a strange day to hold a donating session but I don't make the rules. I hopped on to my bed and managed to read a couple of pages until I was done - I'm a fast donater which doesn't leave much time for reading. I also thought it best not to take a picture of my book with the needle in my arm so as not to offend the squeamish - you'll have to take my word for it that there was a needle in my left arm!

 The only downside of giving blood for me (and for those how haven't donated before let me stress that everyone reacts differently and this isn't necessarily what will happen to you) is that it really wipes me out. I am knackered for the rest of the day until I've had a good night's sleep so I had to retire to bed fairly early doors on Easter Sunday night where I grabbed the opportunity to finally finish Toby's Room.

 Easter Monday saw the beginning of a new book and I have made a long overdue to Stephen King who I love but have not read enough of lately. The last few books I've read of his have been his latest ones so I've made a return to some of his earlier work and I'm giving Needful Things a bit of a bash.

The Person and I were making a return to Preston, plus it was my nephew's 13th birthday on Easter Monday so there wasn't a lot of time for reading in the morning. But it did mean that I managed to squeeze in some lovely train reading which is one of my favourites.

And then I was home and reunited with my favourite crochet blanket and I did a little more reading...

And that brought the Easter Read-a-thon to an end.

As predicted it wasn't a massive headcount in terms of books - I managed to get two finished and have made a dent in my third which is alright by me. I had an Easter weekend of family and boyfriend to fit in around my reading.

But this Read-a-thon wasn't really about that for me. It was more about giving myself permission to relax and re-discovering what it felt like to settle down and reading a book just for the love of reading, instead of cramming it into the hour before I fall asleep.

And that has made it all worth it.

(A review post of the books I read would be lovely wouldn't it? Maybe I'll do one in a few posts time. Or maybe I won't. Who knows?!)

Mother and Me

What I really like about Christmas is listening to other people talking about their traditions. I find it so amazing that just one week or so can result in so many different ways of doing things. From when people put their trees up, to their rituals on Christmas Eve, everyone has just a slightly different way of doing things, meaning that their Christmas is special to them.

After my Dad left when I was 16, Mum and I have only spent 2 Christmases at home. We've always ended up going to my sister's or brother's houses. Whilst this has been lovely, it has more than it's fair share of stresses and means that although it's lovely to be with family, it's never felt like my Christmas because when you're in someone else's house you're living their Christmas instead of your own.

The past 6 years or so have seen Mum and I travelling on Christmas Day down the motorways to wherever we were spending the holiday period, after years of the stress of travelling of Christmas Eve made Mum too nervy to drive when the roads were so busy. Nothing quite takes the shine out of Christmas to have to get up ridiculously early, not to open presents, but to load up the car and shoot off down the motorway (and let's not talk about Christmas 2010 when the weather was so horrific we had to stop because we couldn't see and I had a stress nosebleed all over my new Christmas oufit).

After last year's Christmas at my brother's which saw us being starved by my sister-in-law (Christmas Day is surely the one day of the year where you're not allowed to be hungry?!) Mum and I decided enough was enough - Christmas 2012 would be spent at Mum's house, just the two of us - not because we hate everyone, but because there's no room for everyone at Mum's shoebox.

There was huffing and puffing from both sister and brother but we stuck to our guns and this Christmas saw me genuinely excited for the first time in a long time for the big day. There would be no having to go to church, we would be able to open our presents when we wanted, we could get dressed or not get dressed, watch whatever we liked and eat as much as we could, when we wanted.

Christmas Eve saw me perform my own Christmas ritual - a Lush bath (Dragon's Egg - I can recommend, although it should come with a glitter warning) before slipping into new pyjamas and having a cup of tea with a mince pie.

Christmas Day passed wonderfully - presents were opened, new outfits were put on, some TV was watched, there was no stressing over the cooking of the dinner and most importantly everything was done at our own pace.

Don't get me wrong, it is nice at times to spend the day with family, especially with the wee ones, but this was one of my best Christmases in a long time. Life in general is stressful and it seems to me that at this time of year you should take some time out and really do what you want to do.

To be honest I needed it this year - as much as I look forward to Christmas, the fact that my life is going to be thrown up in the air again so soon has been looming on my horizon and has made it difficult to concentrate lately. I needed just this one day to enjoy and not have to think and worry about the rather uncertain period that's coming for me. I needed to just savour the certainty that Christmas with just Mum and me would be lovely.

And the best news? A bottle of champagne goes much further when there's only 2 of you sharing it...

Changes afoot

So for those of you who are not on Twitter and might have missed my news...

I have a job!

It all happened kind of suddenly and was a little bit out of the blue and I haven't really had time to process it all myself because it is going to mean some big changes for me but I will try and tell you as much as I can as well as anticipating some of the questions people might have about me.

I am basically going to be starting a new job as a PA to the Group Directors of the company my sister works for. This position doesn't currently exist in the company and when my sister happened to be talking to the big honcho about my current employment situation he asked if she thought I would be interested in the position.

So on Friday I went down to see my sister where she lives in the Midlands and go and have a bit of a chat with said big honcho. It was a strange situation because it was a job interview and yet not a job interview at the time - I went in and talked about what I've done and what I thought I could offer and he talked about the role a bit, and 10 minutes later  I was back at my sister's desk and being told I had a job.

Odd.

It's a strange feeling because I haven't had all that build up of applying for the job and waiting to hear about an interview and attending an interview and then wondering if you'll get the job. It just doesn't feel quite right at the moment and even though I've signed the contract, it still feels a little unreal.

And now I will attempt to answer questions...

Wait a minute. I thought you wanted to do research, how have you ended up as a PA?

I do/did want to do research. However my experience over the last 6 months, couple with talking to a couple of people has made me realise that it's just really unlikely/never going to happen. I'm stuck in a catch-22 where universities won't hire me because of my lack of academic experience, yet are unwilling to give me a job that will allow me to get that experience. Plus, universities are notorious for hiring from within which means I wasn't standing a chance from the get go.

And although I won't be doing research, I will be using all of my very best anal organised skills to do my job.

When do you start and where will you live?

My first day will be 2nd January 2013 and I will be moving in with my sister's family on New Year's Day. For the first time in my blogging life I'm going to be coy about where exactly I'll be living because it's pretty tiny. It is in Leicestershire though - will that do you?

The thought of moving in with my sister's family is a mildly terrifying prospect. The last time I lived with my sister was when I was a very small person, she left to go to uni when I was 5 and I've never lived with her since. Plus she will also be one of my bosses, as she is one of the Directors of the company. And obviously I'm also moving in with my brother-in-law, 2 teenage nephews, 2 Irish Setters and a cat* which is equally daunting.

I'm actually not really thinking about that aspect of my new life.

Woah woah woah. What about The Person?!

Aah yes. As you may have guessed from my answer to the last question The Person will not be moving with me at the beginning of the year. He will be staying in Preston for the time being until he can find a job in the vicinity and we can get our little selves back living together. The good thing about being in the Midlands is that, you know, you're in the Midlands which should mean a few more options work-wise. We will just all have to keep our fingers crossed until he finds a new job.

I know that some people might find me making the decision to take this job and move away from The Person I bit strange, but we're still young and this an opportunity I couldn't turn down, I wouldn't be able to get this kind of job anywhere else without proving I had experience.

He's happy for me too. It's not been easy for him having to watch me be so miserable in a job I truly hate and I think that given the choice between having a girlfriend who is miserable who lives with him and a girlfriend who's much happier but has to live away from him for a little bit, he's happy to go with Option b.

Plus it isn't like we haven't done the long distance thing before - and when I move we'll be pretty much the same distance apart as when I was in Hull and he was in Preston.

Ewww don't you feel a bit grubby that you got this job through nepotism?

Yes I do a little bit. It's not something that makes me feel particularly comfortable and it's not how I necessarily wanted to get a job. But at the end of the day, it's an opportunity and I think I'd be a little bit tapped in the head if I turned it down - I've heard that there's no point cutting your nose off to spite your face.

Also this is not a company that I will be able to stay in purely because my sister is a Director. I'm on a 6 month probationary period and if I'm not up to scratch then I won't be allowed to stay on. If anything I'm more determined to prove myself - plus it helps that I don't look anything like my sister and we don't share the same name so not everyone will necessarily know the deal.

What about your current work - why don't you sue the bastards for constructive dismissal?!

Things have been pretty unpleasant for me at work since I tackled my bullies head on. They have taken it seriously and the main protagonist was moved to a different team but there is still bad feeling there. (On her part I hasten to add.) This has also spread to the team - goodness knows what she's told them - so for pretty much all of last week no-one has been speaking to me. Not good.

I have contemplated and even spoken to some people about whether it would be worth taking them to a tribunal and there's probably a chance I would do well out of it but I'm not going to. At the end of the day, that job was never supposed to be permanent so I can't a get a bee in my bonnet about leaving. I've fought the battle I wanted to fight and it's enough for me that someone will now be watching Her and won't allow Her to do the same to others in the future.

Handing in my notice today was one of the best feelings ever. I've given them my 4 weeks notice so I'll be leaving on Friday 14th December. Yes this means I'll be short of cash for the next couple of months because I won't be paid again until the end of January but there is nothing on this planet that could persuade me to stay for longer. In fact technically I could have left on Tuesday 11st December, but my need to have things neat means that the prospect of leaving a job mid-week hurts my brain a little. So a Friday it will be.

Are you excited?!

It's probably fairer to say I'm absolutely shitting it. This job is a huge challenge and I'm really terrified about it - for a while now I've not been challenged in the jobs I've been doing and especially for the last 6 months being unemployed and then in a brainless job I'm pretty sure I've lost any skills I might have once had.

But yeah, I'm excited.


Did I do it? Did I answer all of the questions?!


*I know! I'll be living with a cat! How exciting. But wait. No it isn't, because Blinky is officially the meanest cat in the history of mean cats and hates everyone and won't let you near her. For god's sake!

Crazy Cat Lady Part 17: Fred & Lily, The Return

So I went back to the Mothership last week. There were a variety of reasons for doing so but mostly I just missed everyone and everything. I wanted to see my Mum, I admit it, I miss her, I like her. It might not be cool to say but there it is. I also had a friend who was in a play and I wanted to go and support her and I have a friend who's coming out of a long term relationship and I wanted to support her too.

But more than all of that?

I missed the Fred and Lily.

You see I can talk to my Mum on the phone and I can e-mail and text my friends all day long but I can't do that with Fred and Lily. True, I will yell down the phone when I'm talking to Mum but I'm not convinced they know it's me you know.

I could regale you with stories of how awesome they are but surely you knew that already? So maybe I'll just photobomb you all with photos of the pair of them.

I want to squish his FACE.

My sister and nephews were also up at Mum's at the same time which made for a full house. Fred and Lily revel in a full house because it means there's always something to do. Always someone to look at with your head on one side, someone who's willing to play, it's just busy busy busy.

So it means that when everyone left they crashed like a pair of toddlers. I crept upstairs to find Fred like this;

And Lily like this;

I've never known a cat enjoy sleep as much as Lily does. When you look at her sleeping it makes you just want to go to sleep as well because you want to get as much enjoyment out of it as her. Quite often she seems to sleep like a dog, legs all akimbo, or just in weird and wonderful shapes. For example;

I don't even understand how she can get in this shape - I mean her back legs are literally facing the opposite direction to her head. But she digs it. What can I say?

Also the best thing about having cats? They're there when they come home drunk. I decided to have a bit of Hull nightlife when I was back and when I came home it was like double the fun of just coming home normally and being drunk. They came to see me and I told them all about the night and we totally shared my pizza. And I grabbed Lily and squished her for all her worth. As you can see by this photo she loved it.

Ack they're awesome aren't they?

Now I am back home and there are no cats and it sucks balls.

That is all.