tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78788691766011793152024-02-07T03:42:26.239+00:00In The RedThe Diary of a Recovering ShopaholicUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-38798797549226259892016-02-20T21:14:00.000+00:002016-02-20T21:14:03.484+00:00Brace Yourself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsBmr_gF0yO-A6WYg1E6keuQ_tRRHa-wsGZjABDZ2zg5l952m5P9fHj1FuAVPs9q5KY8gOYbc8Oi4gMd13nOQHZuIfvQlYIHfzd1igNFkztrVFGtBRiDmlX35PIVTxiWECaGDEpycyjE/s1600/IMG_20160218_114333%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsBmr_gF0yO-A6WYg1E6keuQ_tRRHa-wsGZjABDZ2zg5l952m5P9fHj1FuAVPs9q5KY8gOYbc8Oi4gMd13nOQHZuIfvQlYIHfzd1igNFkztrVFGtBRiDmlX35PIVTxiWECaGDEpycyjE/s200/IMG_20160218_114333%257E2.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>
I really didn't think I'd be wearing braces at the grand old age of 47, but there's no mistaking that I now have a mouth full of metal.<br />
<br />
A little bit of vanity goes a long way and a tentative enquiry to see if my top, front teeth could be straightened flagged up a whole load of horrible issues that only two years of upper and lower braces, a bridge and permanent wiring would fix.<br />
<br />
Adult orthodontics aren't cheap, so in my debt-ridden state I've been very lucky to have been graciously funded by the Bank of Mum.<br />
<br />
I'm three days into this and although it feels like I've got Lego glued to my teeth, I'm sure it'll get better. I'm conscious of every word, laugh and smile, and every tiny bite of food I try to sneak past the portcullis, worried it'll become welded to the wires.<br />
<br />
This afternoon I bumped into our neighbour's kids on the stairs and had this conversation with one of their friends:<br />
<br />
"Ooh, you've got braces! How old is your dog?". I tell her that he's 13.<br />
<br />
"Is that dog years or human years? Is he 100?". I explain that it's human years and in dog years he's probably about 77 because he's quite a small dog.<br />
<br />
"Imagine having braces when you're 100!" Oh, good grief, where is she going with this?<br />
<br />
"But you're in your 30s, so that's still okay."<br />
<br />
I love this kid, even if she does appear to need her eyes tested. Momentarily, I even lost my self-consciousness enough to laugh through my Lego.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-14756813921084025972016-02-14T21:25:00.000+00:002016-02-15T12:04:06.301+00:00Baby, It's Cold Outside...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb05SLaGcERbGQUMEtFJAjPbKbPjUMnzLrOXBpS3cHRPNZdP-1Xuf-T5Eb5fAY253-hNJGuhyDRy4q8-3Vm1lerXBFWEMwFekGWhIjlUI1sUl2IrEZnovzrvWk89tBlasZMQ0dv1DrO_c/s1600/Valentine+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb05SLaGcERbGQUMEtFJAjPbKbPjUMnzLrOXBpS3cHRPNZdP-1Xuf-T5Eb5fAY253-hNJGuhyDRy4q8-3Vm1lerXBFWEMwFekGWhIjlUI1sUl2IrEZnovzrvWk89tBlasZMQ0dv1DrO_c/s320/Valentine+coffee.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
It might be one of the coldest Valentine's Days in years, but I hope you're reading this with warmth and happiness in your heart. As the saying goes 'cold hands, warm heart' and, I don't know about you, but my hands were bloody freezing today.<br />
<br />
So, how did your day of romance and love go? Were you woken to the sound of an Aston Martin purring in the driveway (not a euphemism), the sight of a sparkling, diamond tennis bracelet or the smell of a full English breakfast being cooked by your loved one for your bleary-eyed arrival in the kitchen? No? Me neither.<br />
<br />
Between my efforts to pay off my debt (yes, it's still haunting me) and my other half's belief that you can't win affections through flowers, gifts or candelit meals, our Valentine's Day has been much the same as any other Sunday in the year. He claims - and I'm rolling my eyes a little as I type this - that there's no need to spend money on this one day when he loves me every day and while this clearly isn't true - as there are some days he can't stand the sight of me - I guess he has a point.<br />
<br />
Instead, we wrapped up against the cold and drove to our favourite village for a pub lunch - no frills, no roses or candles on the tables - then walked in the chilly, winter sunshine with our little terrier bounding alongside us (while we debated whose turn it was to poop scoop) until it got to the point that we couldn't feel our noses, fingers or paws anymore and retreated indoors for a coffee and our one concession to this day of love; a teeny, tiny heart-shaped chocolate. A perfect Valentine's Day. <br />
<br />
But, if anyone did get an unwanted Aston Martin and felt like re-gifting, who am I to refuse?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-65143587871329393992016-02-07T21:19:00.000+00:002016-02-14T20:25:08.297+00:00New Year - Old MeI've had a bit of an epiphany about the year ahead.<br /><br />I know this is usually a notion best suited to the first day of January but I've always been a bit of a late starter (in everything except talking, it seems) and I reckon being born in the Year of the Monkey, which is being celebrated from tomorrow with the Chinese New Year, gives me the gift of a second fresh start in 2016.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFT2lR4BSta5vyCP10iIKCXqOwa3bC4esYGsbgMLMJHohIyj2CHoFlMrhefk6lGnOGntwwl_pWZVKbpaLCz8dQdCLYcdxd4z8J0mngzBskcH9Knm_zHWQVBXDNKAnKMSkTyDNGAQ4owY/s1600/Peter-Schlesingers-photog-010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFT2lR4BSta5vyCP10iIKCXqOwa3bC4esYGsbgMLMJHohIyj2CHoFlMrhefk6lGnOGntwwl_pWZVKbpaLCz8dQdCLYcdxd4z8J0mngzBskcH9Knm_zHWQVBXDNKAnKMSkTyDNGAQ4owY/s400/Peter-Schlesingers-photog-010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
It's been sparked by this fabulous Peter Schlesinger photograph of Cecil Beaton and David Hockney that makes them look as though they've just taken a break from the film set of Alice in Wonderland meets Wind in the Willows. I came across it over breakfast this morning as I was browsing through the Sunday Times <i>'Style'</i> magazine and it made me think about how I used to dress.<br />
<br />
Let's be honest (and hipsters, I'm talking to you too), most of us don't really stand out from the crowd the way these guys did. When I stand on the train platform every week-day morning I'm surrounded by people going to work and, just like me, they look like they're going to work. No-one looks like they're going on an adventure or that they woke up that morning and thought "I feel like dressing up as a pirate today"; the way children do before convention and, in time, work forces them into suits and smart-casual.<br />
<br />
My daily dress code now is determined by the weather or if I have a meeting, not by the fact that I fancy dressing like Ronnie Corbett on Gleneagles Golf Course circa 1970. I partially blame my time in the public sector - a workplace that engendered a look so uninspired that I once turned up at the office to find two of my colleagues wearing exactly the same suit as me. But, I blame me too for losing sight of how dressing with a difference can, quite literally, bring so much colour and joy to your day.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be Isabella Blow or Daphne Guinness (actually, that's not true - I would love to be Daphne Guinness) but I do want to go back to the me that was so thrilled to open the wardrobe every day and find an adventure in my attire, even if wasn't to everyone else's taste.<br />
<br />
So, farewell to the dependable Year of the Dog, a warm welcome to the cheeky, adventurous Year of the Monkey and thanks to a scene by Schlesinger for pointing out that there's nothing quite as fabulously dandy as an eccentric Brit with a wardrobe full of fun.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-57674863189785521962014-01-08T19:35:00.000+00:002014-01-08T19:35:11.691+00:00I Think I've Had A Brainwave<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAB13x1pvhVB_sMnEkq8XZ7Wn0gf-E75BRBNFp6v6xwqsXMzOyw5JFAAuank5VVWKG5FEdF1XxPQzHdHjtPjsJIRRc1ilPMVRtiEWD7SIUjtnlVBAJRxm1TXxMUypw6GO28PW6pHSuXs/s1600/twisted-brainwaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAB13x1pvhVB_sMnEkq8XZ7Wn0gf-E75BRBNFp6v6xwqsXMzOyw5JFAAuank5VVWKG5FEdF1XxPQzHdHjtPjsJIRRc1ilPMVRtiEWD7SIUjtnlVBAJRxm1TXxMUypw6GO28PW6pHSuXs/s1600/twisted-brainwaves.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>Despite cringing when I look at how long ago it is since I last blogged (I can only apologise for being such a slattern), I think it's important to start off a new year with a happy and positive attitude.<br />
<br />
So, I'll make this post short but sweet and instead point you to the wise words of the scientists who looked at brain functions relating to addiction.<br />
<br />
<i><b>The Addictive Brain</b></i> was the first of 13 programmes on BBC Radio Scotland in their Brainwaves series and you can catch it <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03nhc0t" target="_blank">here</a> on i-player.<br />
<br />
I might be a little biased as I was one of the contributors, but my contribution was minimal to be honest and it's the science bit that's really interesting. If you're a fellow shopaholic, I'm not giving you this little gem as an excuse to say "We can't help it, we're just wired that way", but there appears to be an element of that and it explained a lot of my obsessive behaviours that my partner and I joke about ie. the nine massive, unopened and all different types of washing powder and liquids currently living in the cupboard in the kitchen, and next time I go shopping, I'll be sure to find another one that might, just might, do a slightly different thing to all of the others.<br />
<br />
I might be a little bit crazy, but at least I'll always have clean clothes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-70524911982994411632012-01-31T20:33:00.004+00:002012-01-31T21:01:48.483+00:00Step Into My Salon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMxGh36rRGupOXeDCsgxi8HEUpZ6o9AsRHQR98fw4T4elbt7XPAjzASJTqVCwoCOHj0EK158QdAuXfj_VWs0a6iIMQIdKU2lA8CU0h3YfjIXWjL_nVIdi3Ta5P7RVMJOSw8EDe3lylHs/s1600/IMG-20120131-00153.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703903077072016322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMxGh36rRGupOXeDCsgxi8HEUpZ6o9AsRHQR98fw4T4elbt7XPAjzASJTqVCwoCOHj0EK158QdAuXfj_VWs0a6iIMQIdKU2lA8CU0h3YfjIXWjL_nVIdi3Ta5P7RVMJOSw8EDe3lylHs/s200/IMG-20120131-00153.jpg" /></a>For most of adult life, I've had the same haircut - a bob.<br /><br />Layered, short, long, sleek, razor cut, parted in the middle, parted to the side, graduated, jet black, streaked bright pink, with a fringe, without a fringe; but mostly a bob.<br /><br />There have been a couple of ventures into uncharted territory - the Gwyneth Paltrow crop that left me resembling a demented pixie and the 80s permed-to-the max long mane which just make me look like a female Brian May (that'll be Anita Dobson then) - but it's the bob I always go back to.<br /><br />On a skiing trip to Italy, it was achieved by the hairdresser scraping it back into a ponytail and hacking the bottom off, before fleecing me out of a small fortune. But weirdly, it was a cut that worked and years later - on the camping trip from hell, where my hair turned into a ball of frizz - I begged with Kevin until he did the same.<br /><br />That's why for the last 14 months, I've been letting my other half cut my hair. I'd like to point out that he isn't a hairdresser, barber or dog-groomer - he works in the print trade and is a clumsy left-hander - but I think he does it really well and (so far) no-one seems to have noticed that I've skipped the professional trim which was costing me around £60 every six weeks. (If anyone has noticed, they haven't said and, while polite, my friends would certainly be at pains to point out a dodgy do.)<br /><br />And there are other advantages, apart from the financial.<br /><br />Usually, my hair would go all wayward around 10:45pm on a Sunday night, leaving me in a state of near hysteria that the weekend had passed with it behaving perfectly and now it would be at least another week until I could book an appointment. Now, when that happens I just have to haggle with Kevin until he gives in and trims my tresses. I have a hairdresser on demand! It's every girl's dream.<br /><br />But best of all - he hasn't, not even once, uttered the *words: "Going anywhere nice this year love?"<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*with apologies to hairdressers the world over - I know you don't really say that. You don't, do you?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-20800537278973310362012-01-21T11:36:00.005+00:002012-01-21T12:11:52.074+00:00Step Away From The Sale Rail!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUn7cVSr3jXZi4Ne8LP6xRO5894KW2fh4eoDKuSQRL6O-bfc2HzWWjiROpaPIPxRlqCAsM39QN-dLLaARr0CX0852SjeSpwOfzuv-ZPtKIz1Z6mgq9RCXewJG950vCnXdzPMo6h_ncTw/s1600/shopping+1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700056603493919026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUn7cVSr3jXZi4Ne8LP6xRO5894KW2fh4eoDKuSQRL6O-bfc2HzWWjiROpaPIPxRlqCAsM39QN-dLLaARr0CX0852SjeSpwOfzuv-ZPtKIz1Z6mgq9RCXewJG950vCnXdzPMo6h_ncTw/s200/shopping+1.jpg" /></a> I know times are tough for retail and for that very reason, I feel awful posting a blog asking fellow shopaholics to step away from the sale rail, but for the good of a dwindling bank balance it has to be done.<br /><br />Usually by mid-January, the shopaholic - stressed by all those half price or less tags - can start to relax a little as fashion goes full-price again and all they have to avoid are commercial TV channels showing a never-ending loop of adverts displaying happy people on holidays they can't afford to book.<br /><br />Excessive viewing of these adverts generally results in a shopping spree (which you tell yourself is to cheer you up because you can't afford the holiday) and on returning home laden with bags of unnecessary items, you realise you could have paid for your entire clan to got to the Maldives for a month.<br /><br />But this year is different...<br /><br />Sales are still in full swing and showing no signs of retiring back to the stock room. My lunchtime sandwich shop is fraught with the dangers of items bearing labels of temptation - 50% off; 70% off; £1 or less; free if you bring your own bag; tired old tops and stained skirts, which have been kicked around the changing room floor for the last three years, desperately trying to get our attention so they don't have to face the humiliation of the clearance section.<br /><br />But for the restrained shopper there are still bargains to be had. In a moment of consumer clarity, I found two really great dresses from Zara reduced to just over £20 and perfect for work. I don't normally wear dresses to work, but thought it could be the 'New Me' and ventured out in the little black number this week.<br /><br />The opinion of one of my esteemed colleagues was that it made me look 'a bit like someone in The Spy Who Shagged Me'. This would be great if I wasn't so fearful that the 'someone' he was referring to was Mini-Me...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-22661584819387648762012-01-02T16:18:00.005+00:002012-01-02T16:54:26.981+00:002012 - It All Becomes Clear<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoolJJpzYtXB49TmuO6nLO1riMhs8cWdBslbt1d2RyWdjm2QWGorj8apH7gmBEciMG4KmYvXW8IisiPp_d8_8R3vRe1rIbOkh4i5810ZOg-q_utzvRh14EDS7aKa17cWRp580tdZP9XR4/s1600/canoe_into_mist.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 123px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693078806694745458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoolJJpzYtXB49TmuO6nLO1riMhs8cWdBslbt1d2RyWdjm2QWGorj8apH7gmBEciMG4KmYvXW8IisiPp_d8_8R3vRe1rIbOkh4i5810ZOg-q_utzvRh14EDS7aKa17cWRp580tdZP9XR4/s200/canoe_into_mist.jpg" /></a> Clarus: the latin word for 'clear', which over time has gone through Italian and French alterations and ended up being Clari (admittedly, not a massive change considering it probably took place over hundreds of years).<br /><br />But, those are the first five letters of just three things that are going to make a big difference to my life in 2012...<br /><br />Clarity: No more faffing around! I need a clear idea of what I really want to do with my life, where I want to be and how I want to get there. It will also mean clearing of debt and clearing of clutter - two things which I never fully seem to get to grips with despite convincing myself that my life would be perfect if neither were in it.<br /><br />Clarinet: My Christmas gift from Mother and suggested by my consultant as a way to help build my breathing up a bit. Originally, this was going to be achieved through opera singing lessons, but - as I'm reliably told by several of my nearest and dearest that my singing 'would scare rats off a bin' - this idea was ditched, even though it was obvious to me that they were simply jealous of my dulcet tones and were lying to cover up their envy.<br /><br />Clarisonic: You can't take on the world - or learn a musical instrument - unless you're looking your best and having banged on for the last year about how great my skin could be with this little device, Kevin relented and asked Santa if I could have it as I'd been a (reasonably) good girl over the last twelve months. I'll be unrecognisable by the end of January!<br /><br />I'll keep you posted on whether it's all going to plan, but in the meantime, I hope 2012 brings you a little clarity too. If, however, it's brought you a clarinet, let me know and we might try to get a band together...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-20634610729050157552011-10-16T17:11:00.006+01:002011-10-16T17:31:59.888+01:00All Of A Flutter Over Flattery<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzWNeWicLU2g00H0HnoPZHvgWFyoKZ4gag1n1YqnaN_JOzDZVDgAp52y45pUYlvpw2mRFtPD3ScnpjL9txVyredBbUaxd3PanZWQqFpHjiYyFAXKuieMQK9d7AyKYJM3CPGyLtt7tHn8/s1600/thank_you_typewriter-700434.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 199px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 127px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664128131327769522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzWNeWicLU2g00H0HnoPZHvgWFyoKZ4gag1n1YqnaN_JOzDZVDgAp52y45pUYlvpw2mRFtPD3ScnpjL9txVyredBbUaxd3PanZWQqFpHjiYyFAXKuieMQK9d7AyKYJM3CPGyLtt7tHn8/s200/thank_you_typewriter-700434.jpg" /></a>They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and this blog post has left me all of a flattered flutter.<br /><br /><a href="http://bit.ly/nqhtLE">http://bit.ly/nqhtLE</a><br /><br />Not only is it a lovely blog - and I strongly advise you to have a read - but it's inspired me too.<br /><br />There really is only so long that any one person can stop shopping for (and people want to continue reading about) before serious cracks start to appear and items simply have to be replaced. So, instead of focusing on the impossible task of never shopping again, I'm going to start looking at other aspects of saving money and spending less, and if you have ideas or would like to guest blog on here, then let me know.<br /><br />In the meantime, take a little trip to Tasmania via the link above. Take a good cup of coffee with you, relax and enjoy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-79425842743929645542011-09-21T21:37:00.010+01:002011-09-21T22:24:05.657+01:00A Lot Of Money For Honey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6XXMFAksJME-I0ZEGmLv07ZTAg2OUBX2NggN2oAK4rLAvTyzESLBanVxgw-5PkUQYraj_7lRrLWJNb5ICgGURcHoXe6RHYzAiXm2syJefZv49j_aAhuubAIqbOQyKIIKMnjSL_jVukw/s1600/honey+bee.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 194px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654926006141460898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6XXMFAksJME-I0ZEGmLv07ZTAg2OUBX2NggN2oAK4rLAvTyzESLBanVxgw-5PkUQYraj_7lRrLWJNb5ICgGURcHoXe6RHYzAiXm2syJefZv49j_aAhuubAIqbOQyKIIKMnjSL_jVukw/s200/honey+bee.bmp" /></a>Exactly three years ago I had a lobectomy after finding out I had carcinoid cancer, so today has been a bit of an emotional mixed bag.<br /><br />Mainly elation that I'm alive, to be honest, but also a little disappointment that I still don't feel back to my bouncy old self.<br /><br />I'm still not at my best in the morning, although those who know me well have never felt I was great first thing and have tended to steer clear until I've inhaled a few cups of coffee. I still seem to pick up whatever germ / virus / cold / lurgy is doing the rounds and at the start of the year even managed to get pleurisy, which sounds like something I picked up in the Debtor's Prison and hid under my petticoats. And, I'm still struggling to get my exercise programme up and running (just picking up my trainers and looking at them doesn't count).<br /><br />So, in a bid to boost my health and get myself fit, fun and feeling fab I've started with the basics - vitamins and feel good supplements. This has, so far, meant the purchasing of Echinacea (to clear the latest lurgy), Cod Liver Oil (no creaky joints here), Berocca (if it's good enough for the dancers on Strictly) and Manuka Honey (how much?!).<br /><br />I can appreciate how hard those little bees are working to provide me with a jar of antibacterial wonder-stuff but at just over £15 a jar, I'm expecting it to contain properties that will make me look like I've had a full face and body lift, and give me enough energy to leave Lance Armstrong trailing in my wake.<br /><br />(P.S. - a big thank you to my other half for paying for the Manuka Honey after I fainted on seeing the price, although I felt that dragging me from Waitrose by the ankle back to the car was a little excessive)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-20181856045852988042011-07-15T21:03:00.005+01:002011-07-15T21:33:10.717+01:00I win a little, they win a lotto<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBuJAgKjq8YwAZREaZNHaQXlTv8Hha7NCtbDxDxit9-JMEqTMQMUb6blILvOnGkjMcvdwEbCsYUr4HvuFBVFbTbLcere3HKZJFIy3ZgconwXC4_tw09hdico34W8WfFJDxXB2lSXYxB4/s1600/lottery.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 141px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629679372091346146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBuJAgKjq8YwAZREaZNHaQXlTv8Hha7NCtbDxDxit9-JMEqTMQMUb6blILvOnGkjMcvdwEbCsYUr4HvuFBVFbTbLcere3HKZJFIy3ZgconwXC4_tw09hdico34W8WfFJDxXB2lSXYxB4/s200/lottery.jpg" /></a> Since Tuesday night, I have been hoping against all hope that a 'news about your ticket' email might appear in my inbox.<br /><br />By Wednesday, I knew it wasn't going to happen and started scanning the pavements - there was always a miniscule chance that the winner of Europe's biggest every lottery win would have somehow carelessly dropped their ticket on the way to cash it in at the newsagent and I would find it while out walking Hobbs.<br /><br />Today, we find out that the lucky recipients of enough cash to sustain even the most exgravagant of wish lists are a lovely couple from Largs, who somehow managed to hold their nerve and talk calmly about a win that makes them almost as wealthy as Posh & Becks (and look at how much posturing and pouting she had to do to rack up that fortune!).<br /><br />Green with envy, my boss and I watched their televised press conference and found all feelings of 'it should have been me' fade away as they revealed themselves to be the kind of people who should win that kind of money - our biggest fear had been that some monumental waster was going to claim the cash, rather than a couple who say they will use that lovely lolly to help others.<br /><br />So tonight I'm raising a toast to Colin and Chris Weir with not a jot of jealousy (okay just a teeny bit) that I could have cleared my debt - and that of a Third World country - had I been the winner. I hope they have the health and happiness to really enjoy the good things their one hundred and sixty-one million pounds (gulp!) can bring to them and those they choose to share it with.<br /><br />Besides, I'm not stranger to winning.<br /><br />Just last Friday I cleaned up on the Euromillions; although I have to admit, I had no idea they had prizes as small as £5.80.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-34452877213839602172011-06-25T16:31:00.008+01:002011-06-25T17:00:46.401+01:00My moment with Mark<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZh_fvH4VCK6PqgZN77O7gpxdZTF9JnGxkZ6BpR3Tnc7Cg3moytDzTXVmRhZBuWMfy_1xLh0q0aKN4SHNIT4YWOtx1C9V7ARGNA8qyR8sEyfehbm2sB8GPJSEOnzlGf4VlrXGVyxLqgQ/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622187361137840546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZh_fvH4VCK6PqgZN77O7gpxdZTF9JnGxkZ6BpR3Tnc7Cg3moytDzTXVmRhZBuWMfy_1xLh0q0aKN4SHNIT4YWOtx1C9V7ARGNA8qyR8sEyfehbm2sB8GPJSEOnzlGf4VlrXGVyxLqgQ/s200/IMG_1855.JPG" /></a>To be fair, that's a rather misleading title - it was more 'smooching with Mark' and it was Hobbs doing it, not me.<br /><br />Glasgow has been going Take That-tastic over the last few nights and it got me thinking about the time I met Mark Owen.<br /><br />Normal people would probably have met him in fairly normal circumstances; not me.<br /><br />I had to meet him in the corridor of a disabled toilet (my radio station colleagues and I had temporarily converted it to a canine creche) and try to explain that the small puppy which he was cuddling and kissing (and which was kissing him back with great enthusiasm) was there because he had a throat infection and the vet had told me to keep an eye on him.<br /><br />As Mark was in the station to promote a single for his solo career, this wasn't great news to have to impart, but rather than dropping Hobbs like a germ infested hot potato, he carried on with the cuddling and then signed a photograph for him, which Hobbs still has to remind him of the moment that most women dream of - kissed and cuddled by Mark Owen.<br /><br />Admittedly, he was the cutest puppy ever but damn, that dog gets all the fun!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-34230313235901382112011-05-01T16:08:00.009+01:002011-05-01T18:04:51.445+01:00My Eggstra-ordinary MotherThis has nothing whatsoever to do with spending, not spending or being a shopaholic; although I suppose it's an excellent example of what you can do with a little time and effort and very little expense.<br /><br />It is, however, the perfect way to show just quite how fabulously bonkers my mother can be.<br /><br />This is what she had prepared for us to roll down the hill at her house last Sunday and it seems selfish not to share it...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znOze7p_zIU">Eggstra Special Easter<br /></a><br />PS - for those of you curious to know who hurtled down the hill into pole position, it was Isabella. Go Blow!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-79493608828762228352011-04-12T21:29:00.004+01:002011-04-12T22:32:17.279+01:00The Tank-top Of Shame!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-4ZMIGur17zA0EcjkN2UAE6EOzzvJ6wNXVRhZW8DuVQEGXE-LyxwJF8yLClLQAB_XZUAWrQ9Z0XmLEKK_OfYcscY_GRPBWGxQsZpgaEyviEAnEYa7mBtDpoHGrJENb6_qksi-yDMsNw/s1600/bestwayA2061a.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 207px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594812603661337426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-4ZMIGur17zA0EcjkN2UAE6EOzzvJ6wNXVRhZW8DuVQEGXE-LyxwJF8yLClLQAB_XZUAWrQ9Z0XmLEKK_OfYcscY_GRPBWGxQsZpgaEyviEAnEYa7mBtDpoHGrJENb6_qksi-yDMsNw/s200/bestwayA2061a.gif" /></a>I have very little in the way of an excuse for my latest action, but I'll give it a try anyway. <br /><div></div><br /><div>Firstly, I was feeling sorry for myself having found out that I had pleurisy and was doing that whole 'Woe is me' lying on the couch thing; secondly, Charles Tyrwhitt had sent me a voucher for £10 off anything that took my fancy; thirdly - and most importantly - I'd spotted a tank-top in the brochure they'd sent.</div><br /><div>I blame my tank-top addiction on my parents, who took every possible opportunity during my childhood to subject me to 1970s golf wear. Somewhere amidst all that retina searing clobber, I managed to single out the tank-top as my favourite piece of geek chic.</div><br /><div>Now, I've been strong in the face of shopping this year - giving way only when (in the best interests of my work-mates) I felt that ripped, rump exposing linen was unacceptable for the office - but this tank-top was a temptation too far in my weakened state.</div><br /><div>It was navy, a mix of merino and silk, and (did I mention this already) it was £10 off! </div><br /><div>Anyway, those are my excuses and, quite frankly, none of them are good enough to justify keeping what is essentially half a jumper (delightful though it is), so having unwrapped it and gazed at it for the last 24 hours, I've decided it's going back from whence it came and I can sleep easy; guilt free in the knowledge that I haven't quite broken my shopping ban.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-10427177607832400802011-03-22T21:13:00.005+00:002011-03-22T21:48:11.745+00:00Well, that's torn it...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt6m_WS7najblCsta9AHMzDGVjPJ6Td75jYuVP_rNPHpQyyb7WFhyphenhyphenSJViSrwZaWsWdZpROhq8akRjzCs-qWjunZtjdkzDEl-SViJQ7d34hXbQcbebl1u6jnd1bN7hz0JQfvkLSQXeRt8/s1600/gagabum1221210.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 117px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587023656163910066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt6m_WS7najblCsta9AHMzDGVjPJ6Td75jYuVP_rNPHpQyyb7WFhyphenhyphenSJViSrwZaWsWdZpROhq8akRjzCs-qWjunZtjdkzDEl-SViJQ7d34hXbQcbebl1u6jnd1bN7hz0JQfvkLSQXeRt8/s200/gagabum1221210.jpg" /></a>I have to apologise for the lack of blogging lately - especially to Anna who has been asking where I've been.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I'd love to say that I've been so busy planning my wedding to George Clooney / Ewan McGregor / anyone who'll have me that I haven't had a chance to update, but that would be a blatant lie; so I can only say sorry and blame my lengthy commute for stealing my time in the evenings when I should be writing.</div><br /><div>On the plus side - apart from complete essentials - my shopping has been non-existent. Well, apart from the 'work trouser emergency' caused by over-enthusiastic leaping into the car at the end of the day and my lovely linen deciding that the strain was too much for its delicate weave. </div><br /><div>Buttock exposure is all very well if you're Lady Gaga but in my line of work, it might be slightly frowned upon during a morning meeting, even if you are wearing rather lovely lingerie. </div><div></div><br /><div>I had no choice but to replace my torn trews; however, instead of my usual hoovering up of Hobbs, Jaeger or Whistles for that perfect pair of black trousers, I headed for H & M. </div><br /><div></div><div>The pair I picked up there may have had a zero less on the price tag but you know what? They're still black, they're still linen, they're still perfect for work and my rump isn't being revealed, so I'd say that was money well spent.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-39405804815140429712011-02-16T20:33:00.003+00:002011-02-16T21:02:47.884+00:00Temptation...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqEZnI08KwvJrJjJhE_xWmHOPGDHQpeq9Fc7U8BaU8cFiQ1Y-GDNQOlAR1powNkHZxQkJlEyy1rKKpVa6rtz4_jP9b3xtVWa5mjV-V9HJxWql36omF72gKGT3k1n9FV3M-s3luFHbpcg/s1600/lost-love-spells-4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 159px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574395572918684914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqEZnI08KwvJrJjJhE_xWmHOPGDHQpeq9Fc7U8BaU8cFiQ1Y-GDNQOlAR1powNkHZxQkJlEyy1rKKpVa6rtz4_jP9b3xtVWa5mjV-V9HJxWql36omF72gKGT3k1n9FV3M-s3luFHbpcg/s200/lost-love-spells-4.jpg" /></a> Barely a day has gone by this year when I haven't received an e-mail, text, letter or call from my lost love, desperate to see me and unable to understand why I've so abruptly called a halt to our union.<br /><div></div><br /><div>And while my heart leaps with every contact, I know that I can't give in. </div><br /><div>E-mails and texts are deleted, letters are shredded and calls left unanswered, but the temptation is always there; the temptation to push my way through their door (leaving my fingerprints as the evidence of my faithlessness for all to see on the plate glass panels), throw my clothes to the floor and rush into the arms of my love for just one more dalliance, one more thrill...</div><br /><div></div><div>But that's my weakness and I know it wouldn't be 'just one last time'. The memory of that moment of bliss would lead to more and more reckless behaviour and I can't take that risk, not just now anyway.</div><div></div><br /><div>Apart from the obvious guilt of breaking my promise, I'm not feeling toned and trim enough for all that unzipping in front of floor to ceiling mirrors. </div><div> </div><div>I can only hope that by the time I do return - leaner, meaner and without a shopping ban - that my beloved Jaeger will welcome me once more...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-66616867473788944232011-01-28T20:32:00.001+00:002011-01-28T21:07:10.805+00:00World Holocaust Week<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJ_98Dx27S-gM6jCn8W7fd1YIf-0IzmGUPoXU98tYd4sQ0-HLIOVg4aTnknI1opKELsobiK87qIzNmW6N10LX4IXM95K4YJ9BiBPPuAqDkh5F2lOuprFfhrqG_NBubcj-ZeLod-RV1Tg/s1600/Anne+Frank.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567336803878212594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJ_98Dx27S-gM6jCn8W7fd1YIf-0IzmGUPoXU98tYd4sQ0-HLIOVg4aTnknI1opKELsobiK87qIzNmW6N10LX4IXM95K4YJ9BiBPPuAqDkh5F2lOuprFfhrqG_NBubcj-ZeLod-RV1Tg/s200/Anne+Frank.jpg" /></a>It's World Holocaust Week and today I was privileged enough to meet Eva Schloss, the step-sister of Anne Frank.<br /><div></div><br /><div>It was both humbling and captivating listening to Eva today, so if you can, please take the time to find out more about the story of her life by clicking <a href="http://www.evaschloss.com/">here</a>.</div><br /><div></div><div>We all have problems in our lives - some big and some small - but sometimes it just takes finding out about the courage of others and their struggle for survival to put it all into perspective.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-56185440150635352012011-01-27T21:18:00.005+00:002011-01-27T21:41:15.322+00:00Monte Carlo or bust!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbRWVnnpipFdmqnagbTJTpxVfZZWrLd64EFFVejr2uZSX-ymtn-eV3JrgImYthFVFEDG5xpNItVPDAMbYWLzSEb9HslzebMlYowXhM-7W2rmUjo6F1ai7rZh_zD5tsVaQVBnNhmEFqCk/s1600/Number+50.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566983737728291474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbRWVnnpipFdmqnagbTJTpxVfZZWrLd64EFFVejr2uZSX-ymtn-eV3JrgImYthFVFEDG5xpNItVPDAMbYWLzSEb9HslzebMlYowXhM-7W2rmUjo6F1ai7rZh_zD5tsVaQVBnNhmEFqCk/s200/Number+50.jpg" /></a>I'm rather sad to report that after an absence of nearly 40 years, the Monte Carlo rally kicked off in my home town of Glasgow...<br /><div></div><br /><div>... and I missed it!!!!</div><br /><div>The irony being that it was because I was stuck in a car on the motorway, which wasn't motoring in any way. My chequered flag will remain unfurled for another year.</div><br /><div>But, during my time stuck in the car, ranting at no-one in particular about my stationary predicament, and after seeing a car in full rally regalia pass me in the other lane (I'd thought they would all have been transported on trailers), I realised that I hadn't set myself a target to achieve before 50, and suddenly I knew exactly what it was going to be.</div><br /><div>Before 40, it was to write a book and a chart topping single - I certainly didn't achieve the latter and some people might cheekily suggest that I didn't achieve the former either - but it was good to have something to aim for that initially seemed so out of reach.</div><div></div><br /><div>What I've decided on leaves me eight years to clear my debt, learn basic mechanics, find myself a 1968 MG BGT (I'm trying to be realistic but if I win the lottery between now and then, it'll be an Aston Martin or an E-type Jag) and gear up for a rally.</div><br /><div>Now, which is more 'me' - Monte Carlo or the Mille Miglia?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-8621928219928401532011-01-26T20:43:00.005+00:002011-01-26T21:11:43.944+00:0013 - Unlucky for some<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaFN6A3AluKY3hnRuu5oTnmrKKjgxYdpmk4B9_5mZsDxypnsyw-PsWPh_O9_o_wqSjcPm6Ms4GjXaaMjeu7T2iRVnfri8rjMxcXQ5soKZ58_Hy0oUnyfP4ygdKosH-9r-aMI0ddSCkJU/s1600/Unlucky+13.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566604848301587954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaFN6A3AluKY3hnRuu5oTnmrKKjgxYdpmk4B9_5mZsDxypnsyw-PsWPh_O9_o_wqSjcPm6Ms4GjXaaMjeu7T2iRVnfri8rjMxcXQ5soKZ58_Hy0oUnyfP4ygdKosH-9r-aMI0ddSCkJU/s200/Unlucky+13.jpg" /></a>Thirteen - my lucky number.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Well, it has to be really when it's my birth date; although having my 13th birthday on Friday 13th was a little freaky, but that's another story for another time.</div><br /><div></div><div>Anyway, that's just waffling to get away from me having to make my confession. And here is it - on Day 13 of my Not Shopping, I bought something! </div><br /><div></div><div>Now before you start shouting at me, I know it was bad but it wasn't something for me, and besides I've already been told off by my boss, Andrew, who spied the bag, looked at me over the top of his glasses (he means business when he does that) and tersely told me, "I've been reading your blog...". </div><br /><div></div><div>Basically, I'd bought Kevin a book and his favourite little Leone sweets, which came to just a penny short of £13. I'd been a horrible grump to him and felt that more than just a mumbled "Sorry" was required*. </div><br /><div></div><div>So, should I abandon 13 as my lucky number now that it signifies my teeny tumble from the wagon? I had thought so, until I realised that £10 of the money I had in my wallet was from a lottery ticket win, so really I'd only spent £3!!</div><br /><div></div><div>Altogether now - "I should be so lucky; lucky, lucky, lucky!"</div><br /><div></div><div>*If you ever find yourself in a situation where more than "Sorry" is required, I'd recommend a small peace offering - trust me, it's considerably cheaper than sulking overnight at a hotel</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-9056274052868809742011-01-15T14:06:00.006+00:002011-01-15T14:44:10.210+00:00Flushed with success!<img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 144px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562422646714899810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmw1iotTabTFJ9oMVw2fGCZTzv0Twx9e_DpPDGy7LftHW5umQsARoIIIjttWvpu5UkPjz0PoyMtjVRWR-1ZI2n_uXgOnWaz_qH7Hj8GcKcehF52HHLw8X7r8-CFJu2ww4_uJWb6PBCzk/s200/Working%252520Man.jpg" />Day 11 on my latest quest to curb consumerism and - without sounding too smug - I'm pretty pleased with how it's going.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Nothing other than food and travel costs have dared to cross my payment path and, on Wednesday, I even had a little article on debt and stopping shopping in the Daily Record. So, if I feel like forking out for something un-necessary, I can dig out the article and remind myself that the advice I'm so good at passing on to other people, applies to me too.</div><br /><div></div><div>Even Kevin seems to be embracing the 'make do and mend' mentality I'd mentioned in the article. </div><br /><div></div><div>A couple of days ago, the part he had ordered for the fridge arrived and after a slight struggle, quite a lot of swearing and a few stray screws, he emerged triumphant, shouting "Done!", like a DIY Gordon Ramsay.</div><br /><div></div><div>This success has triggered a trip to his wee shed to drag out the tool box and as I type, he's in the loo tinkering with our temperamental flush. I daren't pop my head round the door but from behind it, I can hear him making confident, little whistling noises and so far, there hasn't been much swearing...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-89952355964234427642011-01-07T18:55:00.006+00:002011-01-07T21:09:14.856+00:00Canine or Kangaroo?It's Day 3 of another year of not shopping and if you're anything like me (and are joining me on my venture), then you'll have had a day of mixed emotions:<br /><br /><br />1/ Elation - you've gone another day without spending anything<br />2/ Distress - you've realised you have another 362 days of not shopping to go<br /><br /><br />So, to cheer you - and me - up, here's a video of Hobbs at his crazy canine best. Apologies that it's sideways, but you can always pretend you're doing neck exercises while you're watching it.<br /><br />Enjoy the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7UuN0_fpfw">Bouncy Bobtail</a>...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-34546670578727814942011-01-05T20:18:00.004+00:002011-01-05T20:49:37.397+00:00Here We Go Again!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMdUAUtlmBDtJkc4Qu67P-vp6g97k0ptESQEoKrp3Q5ih-13vnW3DWxQJub0ok-RzbiGO71_4HkxnWYY3LLuQVk1SRbMs0DRjiLi-O2qT1HXMKBxlJnsNlOvhdQTQqRgtdH4kXNVMBf8/s1600/No+1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 147px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558800239424193586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMdUAUtlmBDtJkc4Qu67P-vp6g97k0ptESQEoKrp3Q5ih-13vnW3DWxQJub0ok-RzbiGO71_4HkxnWYY3LLuQVk1SRbMs0DRjiLi-O2qT1HXMKBxlJnsNlOvhdQTQqRgtdH4kXNVMBf8/s200/No+1.jpg" /></a> A promise is a promise and today seemed as good a day as any to give up shopping for another year.<br /><br />Okay, so I knew I'd be back at work today and therefore have limited access to temptation - plus I had sated my shopping desire last week with a few purchases in the Hobbs sale -but it's still a start.<br /><br />Of course, nothing ever goes smoothly in the House of Hall and last night the fridge broke. It sits sulking in the middle of the kitchen floor, while its matching freezer friend smugly purrs away in its allotted space, challenging us to find fault with its frosty fabulousness.<br /><br />Kevin has come over all manly, pulled wires out and announced 'It's the thermostat', so one has been ordered and in the meantime we wait, trying to remember how different our lives were when we could 'chill' things...<br /><br />Luckily, we have sub zero temperatures outside and a tiled floor in our teeny tiny porch, which is now packed with everything that needs to be kept cold until we can either get the fridge fixed or (damn, it'll involve spending) buy a new one.<br /><br />Hobbs has never been happier - food at floor level meant this morning's walk was accompanied by a hefty chunk of pate which he'd managed to scoop up on his little terrier tongue on the way past.<br /><br />Just don't tell Kevin. He was keeping that for his lunch...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-85586434310012593982011-01-03T23:25:00.006+00:002011-01-03T23:45:16.017+00:00Promises to keep - 2011<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr6KjB_Av5IWemS4oq8hyDYhw40UpqfGU8LC-LlNLMg1BSxiW01LPhD6kdXO9sYok0ZQrB5gx_5AP2TQp1oHLeRvQGxSBHqFA-5aazYLVNr5WOaNA7SoIwU3qE9w7eEV1A83FOQ8OBB0/s1600/new+year.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558109287965345570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr6KjB_Av5IWemS4oq8hyDYhw40UpqfGU8LC-LlNLMg1BSxiW01LPhD6kdXO9sYok0ZQrB5gx_5AP2TQp1oHLeRvQGxSBHqFA-5aazYLVNr5WOaNA7SoIwU3qE9w7eEV1A83FOQ8OBB0/s200/new+year.jpg" /></a> Happy 2011 and good wishes for the year ahead!</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">I apologise that they're belated good wishes, but the New Year signals the opportunity for fresh starts and with that comes promises and resolutions - except I've been so busy writing and re-writing the promises and resolutions, that the days have already flown by without a single good deed being done.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Rather rashly, I have now ditched the list and made just two simple promises:</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">1. See my friends more often.</div><div align="left">2. Give the full-on 'Stopping Shopping' experience another go this year and clear the remainder of my debt. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Here we go again - back on the white-knuckle ride...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-80191146876020997892010-12-24T16:43:00.002+00:002010-12-24T16:46:29.971+00:00Fabulous Festivities!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfYIOPYrm-XKxPF8uHY-vY2vqUKjmFJ6bpJyfX36kR-5iMDS04spHhIoWaLCweO3T_18shycfogmRF3OzBpGFG9pJ1-e2bnnSis_mRNP5ZeguNFfw6YEv6aEjJ-oNKYlPsqoAngBm9os/s1600/merry_christmas.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554291050908393762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfYIOPYrm-XKxPF8uHY-vY2vqUKjmFJ6bpJyfX36kR-5iMDS04spHhIoWaLCweO3T_18shycfogmRF3OzBpGFG9pJ1-e2bnnSis_mRNP5ZeguNFfw6YEv6aEjJ-oNKYlPsqoAngBm9os/s200/merry_christmas.jpg" /></a>It's Christmas Eve - the presents are wrapped, the tree is twinkling and I just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I hope Santa Claus bring you all the good things you wish for.</div><br /><div></div><div>Alexis</div><div>x</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-76954456381109240142010-12-10T12:09:00.024+00:002010-12-10T17:49:05.297+00:00Snow Woe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQjMibAYfFtgHg1oPZpBGQJdA-6uhGOWksFDYNYxeAdkXEIzPFOFTOXJqTZ-y7_MCsT_wXSWdBm5it8vpaWZVHmci0g6-IHkmHU32CjjtoMjX0sFp8cmi-z_J3Plwy1Woejw-T_3UXQc/s1600/Meltdown.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549053183235069266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQjMibAYfFtgHg1oPZpBGQJdA-6uhGOWksFDYNYxeAdkXEIzPFOFTOXJqTZ-y7_MCsT_wXSWdBm5it8vpaWZVHmci0g6-IHkmHU32CjjtoMjX0sFp8cmi-z_J3Plwy1Woejw-T_3UXQc/s200/Meltdown.jpg" /></a>There's a phrase 'be careful what you wish for' and in the last two weeks I have come to understand the true meaning of this little pearl of wisdom.<br /><div></div><br /><div>You see, my normal morning goes a little like this:</div><br /><div></div><div>6:00am: alarm goes off and dog-walk clothes go on.</div><br /><div></div><div>6:10 - 6:45am: unimpressed terrier gets dragged out for a walk while I dawdle behind dreaming of working from home (this dream involves long baths taken at mid-morning and delicious aromas of freshly brewed coffee drifting into my study as I type my best-selling novel).</div><br /><div></div><div>6:55 - 7:55am: desperate attempt to find work pass, pack bag, locate the car keys I have lost from the night before (they are always at the bottom of the bag I've just packed), shower, re-pack bag without the car keys this time, dry hair, wear something smart (doesn't always go the way I'd planned) and generally try to make myself look human so I don't scare my colleagues on arrival at the office.</div><br /><div></div><div>8:00 - 9:30ish: drive to work convinced for the entire journey that I've forgotten something massively important, while using every expletive I know to describe the road works and traffic that are holding me up.</div><br /><div></div><div>But then it snowed here in Scotland. </div><br /><div></div><div>It snowed so heavily that I could barely find my car, let alone drive it to the office. Trains and buses ground to a halt and for the last two weeks, my dream of working from home came true. Well, nearly...</div><br /><div></div><div>6:00am: alarm goes off and Blackberry, mobile and computer go on.</div><br /><div></div><div>6:03am - 7:30am: throw back cup of coffee, call work for update, throw Kevin out the door for a dawdle with the unimpressed terrier, wonder why I can't focus on my computer screen properly, panic that I've missed something important in my morning update, panic that I still can't see the computer screen properly, realise I've forgotten to put on my glasses, put on my glasses, bombard my colleagues with emails in between checking my Blackberry/mobile/inbox in case I've missed something that must be dealt with as a matter of urgency.</div><br /><div></div><div>7:30am - 7:33am: have quickest shower ever while ensuring there's enough of a gap in the shower curtain so that I can still see and hear my Blackberry/mobile should a message come through that must be dealt with as a matter of urgency, worry about what might have pinged into my inbox in the last three minutes.</div><br /><div></div><div>7:33am - midnight: check Blackberry/mobile/inbox, update my work, catch sight of self in mirror with scary unblow-dried hair, recoil, check Blackberry/ mobile/ inbox, update my work, worry I've missed something that must be dealt with as a matter of urgency, bombard my colleagues with emails in case they know something I don't, check my Blackberry/ mobile/ inbox, eat pack of Hula Hoops, check Blackberry/mobile/inbox, update work, worry I've missed something earth-shatteringly important, make coffee while continuing to check Blackberry/mobile and panicking that something which must be dealt with as a matter of urgency has pinged into my inbox during the 30 seconds I've spent in the kitchen making coffee, and so it goes on until...</div><br /><div></div><div>12:20am - fall into bed clutching Blackberry/mobile, Kevin tries unsuccessfully to prise them from my grasp, worry about what might have pinged into my inbox since I last checked it three minutes ago, wonder what happened to that long bath and best-selling novel I had once dreamt of.</div><br /><div></div><div>If it weren't for the fact that I know it's thawing because the water from the - previously frozen and now burst - mains pipe is cascading through our building, I'd be using my teeth to dig a channel from here to the office so I never have to do this again. </div><br /><div></div><div>Why? Because apart from the reality of the situation completely failing to live up to my dream and the fact that I think I'll need more than a few glasses of champagne and a massage to get over the stress-ridden 24 carat World of Angst that working from home creates - I'm really missing my workmates.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7878869176601179315.post-85182124859321691882010-11-20T20:18:00.004+00:002010-11-20T20:24:33.301+00:00Mr Burns & His Incredible Knitted BeardThere is clearly a lesson to be learned from cutting a picture from the Sunday Times 'Style' guide and sending it to my Mother.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Up until today, the only beard in our house belonged to Hobbs and graced his fuzzy, little face in a Will Shakespeare way.</div><br /><div></div><div>Now, thanks to Mother and her knitting skills, I have to live with this:</div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541729863764911890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6tr3TFpwIq16EB0ErrnygShzyKaDp9nQ3FrClvhqcTWrQb4r_IJ9lvpGuJZefJUp9QvsRbF2w_OUbicYDfbzZ5EYjoP6EujLFogLYe2Vjf9cnj3bZm0xW7TjU8IJGlLzDfkS0fDzQZg/s200/IMG_1790.JPG" />Words cannot even begin to describe my fear...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6