Birthday Greed - A Wish List...

You know those lovely subtle demure girls that don't like to mention it when it's their birthday?  The ones who act all dainty and surprised if you remember?  Well, that's not me!

It's my birthday in, ugh, four weeks, I can't wait four weeks!  I love birthdays.  This year we have "things" planned.  Adults only things.  That involve lobsters.  Now, now smutty!  Nothing like that.

Anyway, here is a little list I have compiled of things I would like for my birthday.  In truth, I don't actually expect anyone to buy me any of them, I find the trawling the internet for things that appeal to me just as much (if not more) fun than actually owning things.  Here goes:

I love this tiny skull necklace. I am a teenage goth at heart, and they appeal that side of me.  Find it here

The Game of Thrones "my moon and stars" reference isn't lost on me, this necklace is gorgeous, what a gift for a loved one.  Find it here

I am a complete sucker for a bit of Shakespeare.  And a brooch.  Who wouldn't want to combine both!?!  Find it here.

We have far to many mugs already, but I wouldn't turn this puppy down!  I'm sure we could make a leeeetle more space in the cupboard of doom.  Find it here

I'd FIND an opportunity to wear this!  It's gorgeous. Find it here

A bit like a golden snitch, a bit like a fairly dangerous weapon.  Definitely beautiful jewellery.  Just what a girl needs!  Find it here

Loooooook!  That's my Pearly girl!  Find her here

Oh yes, and if someone could just see their way clear to buy me one of these puppies, I'd be ever so grateful!  Hey, if you don't ask!

This post contains no sponsored links or paid content.  Just pure unadulterated greed.

Oh yes.

Love, love,

*photographs belong to the sites listed.

Take my womb! I need it not!

This weekend I had a rather sad epiphany. I made a quiet little journey all on my own up to the loft and brought down my carefully stored, neatly labelled and carefully folded bags of newborn baby clothes. My dear friend, known on this blog as Impressive E has just given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Pretty much exactly a year after Wiggles was born.  I am so, so happy for her.

Unlike myself, she made the decision not to find out the gender of her baby. She is far more patient than me and much less nosey! They already have a little boy, Woolly, who is the same age as Biscuit. He's bright as a button, cheeky and sweet and ever and such a little character.

They had a loft full of baby boy clothes, but no baby girl clothes at all and as I had a loft full of baby girl clothes it was my duty to find them a new home.   I've passed some to Lucky for little Dinky to wear and now I've passed on the newborn stuff to Impressive E for her little one.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm pleased as punch to be able to pass on anything that might be of any use. I'm a big fan of recycling clothes and moving things along the line as much as possible. I just feel a little sad that I'm officially admitting that I'm pretty much definitely not having any more babies myself. It's like publicly declaring that my womb is now some defunct object that I carry around needlessly. Like a knitting bag with no wool.

I know I sound like I'm desperate for more children, but really and truly it isn't that. It's that I'm not ready to declare myself out of the game.

I'm not ready for hot flushes and an overwhelming desire to cut my hair short. I'm not ready to start faffing about with chip and pin machines asking where the card goes and announcing that they're "so confusing" or that five pence pieces are "too fiddly". I'm not ready to start seriously considering a perm as a viable hairstyle option.  Is it normal to feel this way? Please say yes?

Womb yelp....

Stuck in a rut - baby food ideas

I'm going to say something that's bordering on blasphemous: I am fed up of Annabel Karmel.

That's it, I've said it now!  Should I hide for fear of releasing of whole storm of mummy-hatred?  Probably not.  It's not that I hate her, I own several of her books, it's just that I'm bored of her, and that can't be good, right?  Actually I'm also a little bit suspicious of her; she has perfect hair, perfect clothes and a perfect smile, how can a woman who looks like that SERIOUSLY be an expert in feeding babies?  Surely, to truly be an expert in this field you should have weetabix in your hair, blueberries all over your dress, (usually in a place where you can't see them but everyone else you meet can) very smelly milky vomit on your shoes and a weary expression.  To be really true to life she should probably also be toting either a massive coffee or a gin and tonic.

I'm sorry to say this Annabel love, but I don't consider "Take banana, mash banana - feed to baby" to be a "Recipe".  It isn't.  Neither is "Add lemon curd to Greek yogurt - feed to baby".   I'm bitterly jealous of anyone who makes their millions coming up with such silliness.

I think her ideas are great for those early stages, but we are currently at that difficult stage when puree is out but toddler meals aren't suitable yet.  I have to confess that we've fallen into a bit of a lazy rut recently, especially when we have had a few days away and This Baby was fed largely on jars of baby food.  That isn't something I have a particular problem with, I highly rate Ella's Kitchen and I think their pouches are bloomin' marvellous, they actually taste of what they're meant to contain.  And yes, I've eaten some!  If she's gotta eat it, the least I can do is try it.  No, the problem I have is that there isn't really much choice out there for this weaning stage and we all know that eating the same thing over and over and over in an endless cycle can soon get pretty tiring.

So I decided that I needed to pull my socks up a bit on the baby food front, especially as I had noticed This Baby had started producing red tinted poo due to an overload of tomato based products.  Sorry for mentioning poo, it's a Mother thing, our post-partum conversations take an instant nose dive from slurry Saturday night debates such as "What's actually in a Mojito?"  to biscuit in hand, tea fuelled chats with friends that seem quite normal dispute starting with the sentence "I was studying my little darling's poo the other day....."   Some sort of conversational assassin sneaks in and takes over without our knowledge or understanding.

I would spend sodding ages messing about in the kitchen producing delicious nutritious meals for my oldest, I once faffed about for hours producing a homemade baby version of baked beans which contained cheese, chives and gold dust probably.   Would she eat it?  Would she heck!  She still wont eat beans to this day, I probably scarred her.

I'm looking forward to the day when we can share our adult means with This Baby and just give her a simpler version of what we're having.  We can pull that off sometimes now, chicken casserole, lentil daal, roasts and that sort of thing come her way, but some things aren't really suitable for one so little.  If something is too grown up for her I noticed that she just spits it straight back out, this often seems to be when something is too dry for her palate, she needs some kind of sauce to help things slip down comfortably.

So yesterday I went about producing her a sauce with a base of fresh tomatoes, red onion, herbs and a little broccoli.  This was then cooled and put into the freezer with a view to taking out a chunk and adding it a little of our meals so that's it's easier for her to deal with. &nbsp I didn't take pictures whilst I was making it, as I was too busy, well, making it.  I'm also not going to insult your intelligence with a "Recipe" because it really isn't one.  Just some food, suitable for a little tinker with a big appetite, smooshed up. But it looked good, smelt good and tasted yummy.

I also roasted some butternut squash with a view to doing the same, it's handy for making a sauce out of and adding to a little rice and cheese to form a risotto.

I've never been a particularly big fan of buying too much food that's specifically aimed at children, but after becoming an avid reader of Hattie's inspirational blog Free Our Kids I've really gone off the idea. I feel bad that I've fallen down this slippery slope and on this basis I'm going to try and limit the food based kiddie crap that we buy in future.  One thing in particular that really annoys me is the concept of children's pasta.  Pasta is pasta, right?  There's no such thing as children's pasta!  Just buy smaller shapes, or mash it up!  Don't pay an extra £1.50 for the privilege of being told that's it's the perfect size.

One thing that I've stumbled upon for This Baby that I wanted to share with you that I swear by, SWEAR BY  is Orzo, otherwise known as rice pasta.  It's a fabulous size and a really interesting consistency.  I bought this whopping great big bag from Tesco recently in the world food section for £1.  There is a Tesco Finest one as well, but it costs double for the same amount and in my mind it's a less authentic version...

It's ideal for her little mouth, bulks out a vegetable puree or a sauce that I've made and tastes really good.  In fact I was trying to get a fabulously arty shot of This Baby's bowl with her spoon in, but she was having none of that and whipped some of it it into her mouth impatiently.  Now that's a very good sign!

I'd love to hear any hints or tips that you have for this stage of weaning.  Any favourite recipes?  Any suggestions or foods you can't live without?  Please, please let me know .  Hopefully we'll be able to stay off the jars for a little while!

Love, love,

Darling from a distance...

I am on holiday.  I am.  But I was also very honoured to have been nominated for a second Liebster award by the lovely Katy from Five on the Door.   I must say I was chuffed to bits!  Thank you my dear.  I only found Katy's blog recently and it's bloomin' great, she writes about her life and her little family so beautifully that I just feel drawn in, do have a butchers....

Here are the questions she asked me and here are my answers:

1. What would your dream gig be?
I saw David Bowie play once many, many years ago.  It threw it down with rain and I was the wettest I have ever been in my life, it was seriously torrential, but I was completely and totally and utterly mesmerised by that astounding man.  I would love LOVE to see him play live again.  Though I can't guarantee I wouldn't do the same thing again and stand slack jawed and rooted to the spot.  I couldn't talk afterwards, it was AMAZING.

2. Who is your favourite literary character and why?
Gosh, this is such a difficult question to answer, there are just so many choices aren't there?  I think I'm going to plump for Daenerys Targaryen from the Game of Thrones series, because that's what I'm reading at the moment.  She's a hugely fiesty, determined character and I am fascinated by what she's going to do next. She takes no prisoners and doesn't suffer fools.  Plus Mr Husband (secretly) thinks she's sexy.  Bonus!

3. What has been the best year of your life so far?
That's an easy one!  2007.  I was young, free, single and having the time of my life, within that year I met my wonderful husband and we also found out we were expecting my oldest daughter.  The year before had been a bit of a miserable one in my life, but in retrospect this made the contrast between the two all the sweeter.

4. Who is your secret crush?
Alan Rickman.  Hands down!  I don't know what it is about him, his voice, the dark brooding look he has in Harry Potter as Snape.  The bad, bad boy that he plays in Love, Actually.  Alan Rickman.  Grrrrrrrrr......

5. Guilty pleasure?
Made in Chelsea.  I KNOW I shouldn't.  I never, ever watch reality TV, but for some reason this just sucked me in and I cannot (try as I might) extract myself.

6. Tastiest snack?
Peanut Puffs.  They're like Wotsits slathered in peanut butter.  Dreadful for you.  Bloody amazing though.  

7. Who would play you in the film of your life?
Helena Bonham-Carter.  Because she's mad as a bag of cats, seriously bloody gorgeous, and if she played me I'd get to meet her, which would be quite fabulous.  We'd be really jolly good friends and drink vodka together and talk rubbish on Sunday nights.

8.Which one of your senses could you least live without?
Hmmmm, tough one.  If I had to choose I'd say taste.  Life would be so boring without it wouldn't it?  

9. Favourite cocktail?
Mojito!  Hell yeah!  Keep anything with tequila in well, well away from me....ugh.....I once ended up with a Mexican Mojito by accident, so disappointed!

10. Who would be your dream prime minister?
Bill Bailey!  He could cheer up bad news about budget cuts with an amusing little ditty and nobody would mind because they'd all be too busy chortling, right?

11. Finally, if you were a vegetable, what would you be?
Beetroot.  My oldest daughter recently proclaimed that beetroot was the best vegetable in the world because it's the pinkest!

I'm going to cheat a bit and post the same questions I asked last time:

1. What was the first single or album you owned?
2. What do you have recurring dreams about?
3. What was your nickname at school, and why?
4. Have you ever had road rage?
5. What can't you leave the house without?
6. What song can you sing from start to finish without checking the words?
7. Ever chatted up a stranger? Dish!
8. What's your Wu Tang name?
9. Have you ever danced on the tables?
10. Where's your happy place?
11. Can you do the Macarena?

Only this time I'm going to ask them to these wonderful ladies:

Loo at Jumble and Pompoms
Lauren at My Life In an English Cottage
Abi at The Good, The Bad and The Quirky
Alex at Bump to Baby
Beth at Bethany Marie
Julia at Tea, Cake and My Boy
Alice at The Cup and Saucer
Chelsea at MS Mummy of Two

 

St Valentines? Not a fan...

I am massively unimpressed by Valentine's Day, I definitely don't think it should be necessary to force couples to publicly show their love for one another in order to keep up with other couples.  Ugh.  The whole idea makes me pukey.

But, I am not a Scrooge.  I appreciate that some people like it and think it's cool, and that's fine by me.  So, here are a few things that I do love.  Not all of the things I love, there isn't a big enough blog space in the known universe....

1 - Mr Husband Sir,  he is the best boy ever.  He even puts up with me.
2 - My little family.  They rock
3 - My Best Girl.  I can't tell you how much I love this chick
4 - My girls.  The little sister thing they have going on makes me so flippin' happy.

So.  How about you?

An Ode to Glorious Slash...

I am a big fan of Slash of Guns n Roses/Velvet Revolver fame. Always have been. In the summer, when This Baby was tiny and I nursed her in the wee small hours my mind wandered over to the subject of The Marvellous Mr Slash. It was his birthday, and I had not slept much. I wrote this ode to the great man and promptly forgot all about it, until I found it hidden in a note on my phone the other day. I thought I'd share it with you, partly as proof that you go a little bonkers when you are sleep deprived and partly to show that I should definitely not quit my day job with overblown dreams of becoming a poet. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you;

An Ode to Slash

Oh Slash, lovely Slash,
You may have lots of cash....
but you're also a remarkably talented man, despite some questionable sartorial choices in your past.....

Your wife's name is Perla,
But in many ways it's a shame you're married, cos you're enough to give a girl a......
curly feeling in her fanaca....

You were born in Stoke-on-Trent,
where some might say long hair & leather kecks make you look bent,
but not me.
I've always admired your ability to look truly individual, although I do think some of your tattoos are a little iffy....

Your birthday is today...
So enjoy, and make hay
And feel free to turn this into some sort of cliff-top based guitar ballad, but remember to shove some of the royalties in my direction eh love?

Come Tweet with me...?

I'm bored of being germy and unproductive so today I've:

• bought light bulbs for the awkward light in the lounge

• scoffed illicit McDonald's fries & milkshake & sworn "This Baby" to secrecy.

• bought a humidifier for the girl's to have in their bedrooms (currently alternate nights) in an effort to actively combat their nasty coughs.

• tidied the house up and got back to grips with the washing situation.

BBBBBBBBUT!!

Perhaps most importantly......

I've finally sorted my Twitter account out, (long story) whoooooo yeah!

I'm Kate_pirouette

If I haven't managed to track you down yet to follow you, let me know so I can add you.

Muppety things illness has made me do...

I am the worlds worst ill person. You may have noticed? Say; "nooooo, nooo, not at all, you've barely complained!" No?

I am like a mischievous child, in that, if I am seriously ill, I go quiet. Very, very, quiet. When I had a blood clot during my first pregnancy I was terrified into near silence. I coughed myself awake one night to find blood in my mouth, one of the "Get yourself to hospital NOW" warning signs. Mr Husband Sir was sleeping peacefully next to me. I woke him up with one word, said very gravely. He knew immediately there was something very wrong. It's when I'm not whingy that he worries.

Thankfully it was nothing. It transpired that my blood thinning medication had caused my gums to spontaneously bleed during the night. This happened to me a lot. Usually in front of strangers. I'd be buying loo roll and the till lady would point out that I was inadvertently mimicking Dracula with blood smeared chops.

If I am a little bit poorly, I have a tendency to feel sorry for myself. Pathetic I know, but unavoidable I'm afraid.

Yesterday I spent pretty much the whole day in bed, coughing, sneezing, nose-blowing, deliriously sleeping, sweating croaking and complaining. Thankfully my Mum took over looking after the children until Mr Husband came home. Mr Husband was then a love and let me sleep rather than do bed time duty. I watched Eastenders in bed and slept for ten hours solid.

Today I dragged myself out of bed (and I do mean DRAGGED), had a bath, snapped unnecessarily at my Mum and went to work. My plan was to sit at my desk, look pale and revolting and get sent home. Didn't happen. Quite rightly probably. After a couple of ibuprofen and a cuppa I managed to feel a little more human.

I ate some lunch in the form of a very dull M&S sandwich, the first thing I'd eaten for an age. After lunch I perked up a bit more so managed a whole day and left to go home at 6.30pm.

Since being home I've fallen over my slippers, put a scoop of baby formula into my tea by accident, burnt my hand on the cooker top and sent a text message to my best girl unwittingly suggesting that she might need carrots and FISTING rods. Thank god she knows me well enough to laugh. Suspect she thinks I was being accidentally smutty (I wasn't).

So, I'm giving up and going to bed. In a blaze of glory/snot.

Poorly, poorly, poor me

I have flu. It's not a cold it's definitely flu. The babies have have both been poorly and are thankfully on the mend, but my bid to be Florence Nightingale has meant I have contracted lurgy.

I am possibly the world's worst ill person. I have been known to cry at having a sore throat. Thankfully my dear mama has taken charge of the small people (That Baby's still off school) and has sent me off to bed. I can hear This Baby kicking off in the kitchen, she is small and cute, but she's got one helluva wah!

I ache, I cough, I'm pale and hot and cold and grumpy all at the same time. The radiator in our bedroom was fixed yesterday and we spent last night trying to sleep in a sauna which didn't help.

My friend Lucky popped some cake in this morning when she discovered I was not attending baby group. She's a good lass.

I can't face eating it yet. I really must be ill.

But, it did make me do a little half smile. Even when I'm sick and miserable I have the best friends. If she were here she'd tell me to man up and then feed me salacious gossip to make me smile. When it comes to cake & gossip, Lucky's the Queen.

This would help. This would help A LOT.

Liebster? Who, Miebster?

I am honoured and privileged to have been nominated for not one, but two Liebster Awards by the delightful Amy at Cocktails in Teacups and by lovely Rhiannon over at The Sparkly Panda.  I love these two blogs and the ladies behind them.  They are true to life, good honest folk and I feel very at home at round at their blogs. My little blog is still the new kid on the block, so it's extra special to me.  I'd like to thank my parents, my agent, ahem, no wait, forget that.....

It does seem that a fair few people on my list of nominees have already received a Liebster award, so apologies if that is the case.  I am slightly conscious that the Liebster Award could potentially be a kind of blog based equivalent of the Herman the German Friendship Cake, when these did the rounds in my village a short time ago people eventually started to run away in fear, but I believe that was more because you had to put up with a smelly cake taking up worktop space in your kitchen for days on end, than for any other reason.  As far as I know I do not have to post any of you a small piece of pulsating dough, unless you would particularly like one?  Anyway, my point is; feel free not to respond if you have already been nominated elsewhere, but I am chuffed to bits to have received TWO awards so I'm going to take great delight in playing along.

So!  For anyone still in the dark the rules are:

• List 11 random facts about yourself
• Answer the 11 questions which are given to you by your nominator
• Ask 11 new questions for all the bloggers that you nominate to win the award
• Nominate 9 bloggers with less than 200 followers to win the award
• Go to each of the blogger's pages to let them know about their nomination.

Basically it's a nice way to promote up and coming bloggers, increase visibilty and spread the love a little.

Cool huh?  So, let's go:

11 Random facts about lil ol' me:

1.  My firstborn was named after a footballer to punish her for crying so much as a newborn baby.  We don't talk about it.  Thankfully it's only her second middle name. What can I say, I was tired, emotional and easily led...

2.  I always wear both of my Grandmother's wedding rings.  I decided to forgo an engagement ring as I couldn't bear to be parted with them.  The two women never met, and I never even knew my Grandmother on my Mother's side, but strangely enough they both had pretty much identical simple gold bands.  Looking at them on my hand always makes me smile.

3.  I am a veritable fountain of Sherlock Holmes based knowledge.  That dude rocked.

4.  I hate musicals, for some reason people bursting into song embarrasses the bejesus out of me.  A fight or flight instinct comes over me and I will TAKE DOWN EVERY MOTHER-HUBBARD ONE OF YOU THAT TRIES TO STOP ME FROM LEAVING.  Ahem, sorry.

5.  I can walk on stilts.  Not a skill I use a great deal.  Maybe I should put it on my CV?

6.  I have a mortal fear of buffets.  If I'm the first one up, and the food has been freshly laid out and is untouched, then fine.  But as that never happens I generally steer clear.  Even when I'm starving, the thought makes me gag.

7.  I don't go anywhere without an umbrella and some antibacterial gel.  I hate getting wet and I hate getting germy.  The umbrella thing got worse after going to see Bill Bailey with Mr Husband Sir at Wembley in the rain and my cheap Primark shoes melted.  It transpired that they looked lovely, but where made of cardboard pulp.  I had to strap Sainsbury's bags to my feet and walk through London looking like a bag lady.  I don't even want to think about the germs that must have gotten onto my feet!

8.  I can't be in a car for more than 20 minutes without falling asleep.  Unless I am driving the car of course.  Then I'm safe for around two whole hours.  After that you might want to take over....

9.  Spiral staircases fill me with dread.  I just freeze.  I once held up a guided tour at Oxford Tower by having a complete blibble about going up or down the stairs.  Cue evil stares and tuts from grannies and several other tourists.  

10.  My dog ate my hamster when I was nine.  RIP Pickle.  I was devastated.  Everyone I told laughed.

11.  I have never seen, Grease, Dirty Dancing, Jaws or Star Wars all the way through.  I have film-based commitment issues.  And Grease is a musical, see number four.

Here are Amy's questions:

What new years resolutions did you make? (if any, if not, why?)
I try not to make any formal resolutions, because it makes me feel like I'm setting myself up to fail.  But I did make a mini resolution to speak to my little girl more lovingly.  I caught myself shouting at her to "GET YOUR SHOES ON!" before school and hated the way I sounded.  She's four, she doesn't need that.

If you won the lottery what would be the first thing you'd buy?
It sounds really boring, but I've been really hankering after a Sleepy Nico baby carrier for This Baby.  They're gorgeous, but at £69+ I just can't justify the expense at the moment.  

If someone asked for a book recommendation, what would you give them?  
I adore Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland.  It is the only book I've ever read more than three times.

What is the one place you really HAVE to visit before you die?
Clovelly in Devon.  I feel so at home there.  I swear Crazy Kate's cottage was my home in a former life.

If you had one piece of advice for your 16 year old self, what would it be?
There is NOTHING wrong with you.  You are as good as anyone else in the world, don't put yourself down.  Oh, and when you go to see Peaches at The Forum in London in around 2008, you're going to bump into Noel Fielding.  KISS HIM!

What TV show that no longer airs do you miss most? 
I LOVED The League of Gentlemen, it appealed to my (occasionally) dark sense of humour.

What one hobby do you wish you'd pursued?
I wanted to take up the cello at school, but for some reason I wasn't allowed.  I should have made more fuss.

If you could time travel to what age, what one would you go to and why?
The reign of Queen Victoria would be quite cool.  I very much fancy a bustle...

What is the thing you most find attractive about the opposite sex?  
Intelligence.  Mr Husband Sir is a smart cookie,  I could tell that from the off. 

Who/what is your blogger inspiration?
Three ladies, I can't narrow it down between them:  Fritha at Tigerlilly Quinn, I've followed her blog for a long time now, and I just love it.  And my Grandpa was called Wilf and every time she says it my heart sings.  Charlotte at I'm Only Saying What You're Thinking, because she is usually saying pretty much EXACTLY what I am thinking.... and Hattie at Free Our Kids, because what she's trying to do is really bloody inspiration, I admire her a great deal.  

And finally... coffee or tea? Does that mean I can't say vodka?  Coffee flavour vodka?  Ok, ok, coffee.

Rhiannon's questions are:

1. If you are stuck on a desert island what 3 things would you want with you?
Insect repellent, an alarm clock & a first aid kit;)

2. Do you have a hidden talent?
Not sure that I do, it must be pretty well hidden!

3. Dress/Skirt or trousers to wear for the rest of your life?
Dresses ALL the way. If I never wear another pair of trousers that's fine by me.

4. What's your favourite flavour of cupcake?
Chocolate! Preferably made by my friend Lucky, she makes the best cakes.

5. What are your biggest blog inspirations?
I read blogs for a long time before I plucked up the courage to create my own.  If I could ever be half as entertaining as someone like Lakota at Faith, Hope & Charity Shopping, I'd be a happy girl indeed.

6. 10 years from now, where do you want to be?
Right where I am now, with my family by my side.

7. What is the one food you could live on forever?
Fishfingers! God I love 'em!

8. What is your favourite day of the year?
I have never thought about that before. Maybe Boxing Day, the pressures off, the telly's good and we're all together. Ooooh, and there are usually nibbly snacks around!

9. Morning or night person?
I used to be a night person, now I'm somewhere in between. I'm way better at managing mornings than I used to be. I have the Smalls to thank for that.

10. How do you spend your free time?
Being with my family, drinking coffee and yapping with my friends.

11. Why did you start blogging?
To capture my daily life somewhere, to record my children's lives, to have my say, to air my thoughts, to learn, to be inspired and to join in the fun!

I would like to nominate the following, deeply fabulous blogs, all of whom are well, well worth a visit:

1. Painted Style
2. A Rush of Love
3. Water Under It
4. My Little Acorns
5. Serendipity in Chaos
 6. I Write This Sitting in the Kitchen Sink
7. Puddle of Grace
8. Wallflower - Beauty & Babies
9. Mum in a Hurry


And these are my questions:

1. What was the first single or album you owned?
2. What do you have recurring dreams about?
3. What was your nickname at school, and why?
4. Have you ever had road rage?
5. What can't you leave the house without?
6. What song can you sing from start to finish without checking the words?
7. Ever chatted up a stranger? Dish!
8. What's your Wu Tang name?
9. Have you ever danced on the tables?
10. Where's your happy place?
11. Can you do the Macarena?

Go forth and create responses my pretties!

Loft

The loft  - enter at your own risk....

I used to mock my Dad about his loft, saying it was Steptoe's Shop up there. It IS like Steptoe's shop up there to be fair. For those who aren't familiar Steptoe & Son was a British comedy broadcast in the 1960's and 70's about a pair of rag and bone men with a shop filled to the rafters with useless rubbish.

Our loft is totally squeezed full, every conceivable space is packed. What's up there you may well ask. The only answer to that would be EVERYTHING. You name it, there's one in the loft. It would probably be quicker to list what was not somewhere in Dad's loft. We're not just talking your bog standard Christmas tree, boxes of decorations, that sort of thing. I swear he could easily kit out an entire other house with all the clobber up there.

It particularly amuses me because outwardly my dear old Pa is an incredibly neat and organised man. The loft is his Achilles heel, the guilty secret that would badly let down his public image....and I know it's there MWAHAHAHA!

I sometimes lay in bed at night worrying that the weight of the lift contents will crumble the ceiling onto our sleeping bodies, and that we'll be found, weeks later in a catacomb like tomb made up of waste paper baskets, dog beds, train sets and old cheque book stubs. I used to complain like mad that he needed to get it sorted, well not any more!

Before Christmas (expensive wedding present) microwave inexplicable broke. It may have had something to do with me snapping off an important looking piece of plastic from the door with my dressing gown sleeve (it was EARLY) but I haven't confessed to that happening so it must have been Mr Husband Sir's fault. Ahem.

I recounted our tale of woe (well, part of it) to my Dad, who said nothing. Went up to the loft, and came down minutes later with a replacement microwave. What a star!

When the kettle gave up on life (limescale this time, not me) he produced from the loft a choice of not one, but two alternative kettles.

On Thursday our lounge lamp passed away. We changed bulbs, fuses and hours of surgery passed in vain. I girded myself for the thought that the corner of our sitting room would from now on be a dark and soulless place. My Pa, in respectful silence left me alone with my thoughts.

He returned, from the loft, with an identical lamp that I did not know existed, this is less weird than it sounds, he gave us the lamp originally, and used to have three the same, he hasn't been cloning our furniture for emergencies. Anyway he lit up the room once again, and quietly retreated to the East Wing (the extension).

It turns out my lovely Dad is not a secret hoarder, or a lunatic of any kind. The reality is that he is SO organised and SO prepared for any twists, turns and minor mishaps that may occur, he has a whole loft full of contingency plans so we don't have to suffer.

I love that man.  And I am never mocking his Steptoe loft again.

So which are you?  Hoarder or chucker?  Can you part with what someday might be just what you need?  Do you plan for what might happen, or go with whatever comes along?  Is there anyone else out there with a loft full of just-in-case?

My ideas on how to have a fabulous wedding, without spending afortune...

Inspired by reading a post over at A Rush of Love in which Harriet talks about her wedding based anxiety, I started thinking about our little wedding. It was such a lovely day, I'd love to do it all again someday (to the same man, obviously). I thought I'd share it with you.

We didn't have a massive wedding, we kept it low key and concentrated on the things that were most important to us. That Baby was already with us and, to us, it seemed poor taste to spend her university fund (ha!) on a single day of merriment.

So, we sat down and talked about our ideal day, decided which aspects were most important to us and which we didn't give two hoots about. Then we set about creating it together, as a family.

One of the first things that I thought about, like any girl, was my dress. From the moment my darling proposed (up a mountain, by a lake *sigh*) I knew that there was only one bridal gown in the world for me. My Mum and I ventured up to London, not to a swish bridal boutique as you might expect, no siree! We got the tube to Camden Town, North London and headed towards Kentish Town. Hidden away under the railway arches, we found a motorcycle repair shop. We warily poked our heads inside, before we'd uttered a word a helpful chap preempted our question with the instruction "Upstairs!" They must have been used to quizzical looking ladies showing up on their doorstep. We ascended a rickety staircase up to a room bursting at the seams with the most beautiful dresses. We had arrived at my favourite shop in the world; Vivien of Holloway. There they specialise in producing excellent vintage reproduction dresses, in every fabric you could possibly imagine. I knew exactly what I wanted and chose my ivory duchess satin dress and a pink fluffy petticoat. I also bought a bridesmaid dress for my best friend in the world, knowing that with dresses this fabulous she'd look stunning in it, and she did! Everything was folded carefully, popped into a leopard print carrier bag and off we went. And we'd spent under £200, now that can't be bad, and to this day I couldn't be happier with the choices I made.

My Dad and I walking to the church

 On our big day we kept it simple, we married in our little village, in our local church. We walked to the ceremony, no stretch limousines for us, ugh! One of my fondest memories is of my Dad and I walking down the High Street together, he had to sit down for a rest at the bus stop (bad back) and I had to make small talk with a bemused old dear out shopping.

Walking to the reception with our guests.

We walked from the ceremony to our reception venue together with our guests. We walked alongside the river and past the cricket hut as a lovely big group and chatted as the sun shone on us. We had our wedding breakfast in the local village hall. Instead of being bleak and tired as you'd imagine, we'd had a specialist company put a marquee up inside. From the outside it looked ordinary, but as soon as you stepped through the doors you were transported into a beautiful wedding bubble. The gasps from our guests when they went indoors made me so proud, they just weren't expecting it! I think the poor things were preparing themselves for Formica tabletops and utility china.

Our wedding reception, a cleverly disguised village hall...

We wanted to have plenty of flowers but to save some pennies we'd organised a crack team of specially briefed guests who, directly after the service, removed all the pink rose garlands from the end of the church pews and swiftly nipped to our venue with them, transforming them into the table centrepieces. Why pay twice? They were rewarded with a plentiful supply of Pimms.

Swiftly rehoused from the church pews - the table decorations!

As we both have a mortal fear of dancing we'd already decided that the focus of our celebrations would be on dining together and enjoying the company of our dearest friends and family, rather than a disco. We bucked the current trend of having a two layered reception, main and evening, and married at 4pm so it was too late in the day to do both. This also meant we swerved the thorny issue of risking insult by only inviting some guests to the evening segment and not the whole day. Our guest list was fixed, you were invited to all or nothing. We concentrated our catering budget on providing an exceptional meal for everyone, rather than one meal, and a later buffet that would be largely uneaten.

The wedding cake was pretty unimportant to us, but my Mum feels like it isn't a wedding without one. I couldn't bear the thought of spending £600 on a cake, so we bought three M&S white iced ones and shamelessly stole ideas from a wedding magazine. We ended up with the most amazing, and admittedly slightly bonkers dolly mixture cake, for a fraction of the price. I loved that cake a hundred times more than any expensive version, because there was no guilt attached to it and because my Mum and Created it ourselves.

Our fabulous dolly mixture cake

I firmly believe that you can have an amazing, memorable wedding day without spending an absolute bomb, if you're thoughtful and make wise decisions. Our choices, although not right for everyone, were just perfect for us.

So, tell me your wedding tales! What was important to you? Any tips for Harriet?

Hugger off!

I have a confession to make, it doesn't paint me in a good light. I'm not emotionally defective in any way, however:

I am not a hugger. I'm just not comfortable hugging. It's sad but it's true. Now I'm not talking about my husband or children here. I can hug them without issue, Mummy cuddles are officially the best! Although sometimes if Mr Husband Sir goes all soppy and wants an extended hug I do have a tendency to get a bit bored and start wanting to pick bits of overflow flapjack off the cooker top.

It's friend hugging or colleague hugging that I have the problem with...the very words "Come here you" fill me with adject horror. Nooooooo! It's just awkward and unpleasant, I go all "rabbit in the headlights" and start looking for escape routes. I'm pretty much the same with tickling, I've said it many times and I'm not joking, if you tickle me something primal takes over and I will fight you to make you stop.  To the death if necessary.

Perversely kissing doesn't phase me at all, I can mwah, mwah along with the best of them, but if someone from the wrong category starts crying and looks like they need a hug, I have to go and find a grown up, otherwise it just results in me providing one of those horribly stilted half tap, half pat on the back things that's no comfort whatsoever.

A friend of a friend used to LOVE to hug.  I could never be good chums with him on this basis, he used to attach himself to people for an inordinate amount of time whilst I stood by trying to find something that would make me so busy I was excused.  It happened a lot, one day during a particularly extended episode something snapped within me, I forced the uncomfortable pair apart (in my head I was saving them, and me) and I yelled "Put her down limpet boy or I'll break your face"  Not the most eloquent admittedly, but it certainly worked.

Thankfully I'm now branded as someone who's not a hugger so I can escape the situation should it arise, heaven forbid I meet someone who doesn't know that though.  Maybe I should get a badge made......?

So.....are you in Camp Hug or are you with me in Camp Run, Run for the Hills?

My big girl (when she was small) I'd hug her anytime!

My last day of freedom...

I'm going back to work tomorrow following nine months of maternity leave.

I liked being pregnant, not just because of the tiny weeny little baby inside me, but also because it was a good excuse to be really bloomin' lazy....

Bulbous tummies also make excellent coffee tables, why get up if you don't have to?

I've just been hit with the realisation that not only have I got to leave my little tinkers tomorrow, but also that I'm going to have to keep working for the next thirty years. At least. Ugh!

I'm quite excited at the prospect of doing grown up stuff for a day, like buying posh coffee in a lidded takeaway cup rather than a juice drink that I have to share and eventually give up on when it turns into crumb filled small child soup.

I'm going to miss yapping to my friends on the school run, the Crime & Investigation Channel and eggs for breakfast. But mostly I'm going to miss gummy smiles, dribbley bibs and a kid that shouts "PRECIOUS!" and carps on about dinosaurs a lot....

Now I just have to scrape back together whatever is left of my half witted mummified brain and try and remember what it is exactly that I do again.  Oh yes, and I wonder what my was password was....?

This is my friend Kate, she's mad!

I've been introduced to people this way more than once. It makes me want to slap the person doing it and shout "Oh f**k off!" I don't like feeling under pressure to be funny. I'm not a performing poodle and it definitely doesn't work like that.  I can tell an amusing story with the best of 'em, but only if there's one to actually tell.

My life isn't perfect, but I try really hard to be positive. I hate it when all people do is moan. Every now and then, when life deals you a crappy hand - fine, you're welcome to have a good complain. If life deals you a series of crappy hands, fair enough, keep going, you're entitled. I'll do what I can for you, to come up with something, anything, that might be helpful. But moan ALL the time about the tiny little details of your life, that you could easily change and I switch off. You're crying wolf. I don't know when you need a friend and when you don't.

To me "Just Pirouette and Carry On" means something. It's how I hope I react to life's setbacks. Pick myself up, dust myself down and not only move on, but move on fast and with good grace. I don't want to feel held back from posting if I don't feel like I'm being amusing enough. That's just faking, nobody is bouncy all the time. Sometimes I'm a silver lining girl, and sometimes I'm a grumpy old bat you'd cross the street to avoid. But I don't tend to feel that way for too long.

So, my dear, and very much appreciated  readers, just so you know, if I complain, it's because I feel I really need to. I'll try hard to make each post a good one. Sometimes I might be feeling scintillating and eloquent and I might just pull it off, but sometimes I might be a bit flat. But I'm posting anyway! I'll tell you what though; when I'm on fire, hooooooo mumma I'm on FIRE! :)

 Love, love