Broken Hearted

I realise that over the last few weeks my blog has been something of a bore, but my thoughts have been elsewhere.

Basically, they’ve been focused on Kevin and I, and what the future holds for us.

On the back of a horrible year of health worries and recuperation, we’d started planning how we were going to move on. We’d bought a little book each to write down all the things we were going to do in the next few years; the places we wanted to visit; the cars we wanted to drive; the careers we wanted to aim for; the indulgent but needless little treats we wanted to save for.

And then the rug got pulled from under our feet...

After several weeks of appointments with doctors and consultants, my incredibly fit and apparently healthy partner was told on Monday that his heart valve is failing, causing his heart to enlarge, and that surgery is his only option. We sat stunned as the surgeon reeled off the statistics, desperately hoping to hear some good news or to wake up from the nightmare we were having, but neither of those things happened.

We’re still stunned. Our little books containing all of our hopes and dreams have been put aside, as have my promises of restriction.

There are many things that are more important than money - living and loving and having fun - and while we have no intention of going completely crazy on our credit cards, we also have no intention of denying ourselves.

It could be weeks or months before Kevin joins me in the scary scar brigade, but until that time, we’ll be making the most of every single minute.

Seven Days of Sunshine

Scotland is a truly beautiful place when the clouds clear and for the last seven days we have been bathed in blissful sunshine; making Hobbs a very happy, little dog.

I realise that my recent rambling about the weather is making me sound like my mother. Also, I’m worried about scaring away the tourist trade and being sent hate mail by VisitScotland, so I promise to stop and will leave you instead with a little glimpse of how gorgeous this country can be.

My Halo Slipped...

My five pounds a day rule has suffered a bit of a setback.

A couple of friends’ birthdays (one was the big four-oh so a decent bottle of bubbly was required) and an emergency food shop put paid to my smugness at having kept to my budget so well over the last couple of weeks.

Most people are not familiar with the ‘emergency food shop’. Most people realise long before we do that their fridge needs a top up, but as I keep all my nail varnishes in there - it stops them going gloopy - we’re usually too dazzled by their jewelled colours twinkling in the glow of the refrigerator light to see that nothing much else is on the shelves.

I would feel a bit guiltier over my inability to stick to my promise, but I doubt even Nigella Lawson could have conjured up something edible out of the one old lime and half-eaten jar of cornichons that were lurking in the back of the fridge - although if anyone has a recipe that proves me wrong, I’d love to see it.

I know I’ve fallen off the wagon but it was just a minor tumble, so I’ve put my wallet away again and clambered back on.

Hobbs In A Huff

Here is a picture of my rather unhappy and slightly soggy doggy.

The reason his fuzzy, little face seems so forlorn is that after months of dreary dog-walks in the drizzle and driving rain, he’s just found out that the Indian Summer he’d pinned his hopes on isn’t going to materialise.

So, for another year, it’s Bye-Bye to the bar-b-q that we so nearly managed to dust down and light up, and Ta-Ta to the tent that has remained locked in the loft along with its deck chair chums and picnic rug pals.

On the plus side, the flash new waterproofs (if you’re going to be wet, at least do it in style) which Kevin treated us to during our holiday will get plenty of use.

And with a birthday looming, Hobbs might just get a flash new waterproof of his own - that should put the wag back in his tail.

We Love Lizzie!

Having been plunged into woe over my wobbly bits, I was overjoyed to see this picture.

The gorgeous girl in it is Lizzie Miller, a twenty year old model, who appeared airbrush-free in a recent American edition of Glamour.

In stark contrast to the usual computer enhanced images of perfection (that we all know can't be possible but still hope to attain), Lizzie and Glamour let us see the real deal.

The response to the shoot has been so positive that the magazine have announced more photos of Lizzie will appear in their November edition.

I now have two fashion fixes to look forward to in the weeks ahead and while I know the film of Vogue's September Issue will be all about skinny, I have a hunch that Glamour's November Issue will be all about natural.

I might even skip the salad today and celebrate my curves. Now, where did I hide that Toblerone?