Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Behind the scenes of a TV makeover show...

OK, so we moved house earlier in the year and like all new home-owners are keen to put our own stamp on our new nest.

Tat was thinking maybe a new settee, maybe a jazzy colour on a feature wall... Oh no my friends, I've gone and done either a very silly thing or a very hilarious thing and have gone and got us qualified to appear on a new kitchen makeover TV show! Yippee!

Not one of those "makeovers in an hour, paint your sitting room black and furnish with white leather furniture" type shows, but one of those "have a proper budget, 2 week build, award winning kitchen designer" type shows.


The premise of the show is to solve "interiors problems" in the kitchen - so all the things that are shot about the kitchen get solved by an expert. So we're going to get a pretty awesome kitchen at the end of it (last filming and kitchen build in February), but do you want to know the best bit?


I think the production team couldn't believe their luck when I specifically asked to wear a camera on my head and walk around my house carrying liquid in full bowls on a particularly wobbly tray. Not only did I get to wear a camera on my head to illustrate why we "really need table space in the kitchen", we also had a play with teapot-cam, cupboard-cam and washing machine-cam (illustrating the broken floor and poorly fitted unit doors that all open when the washers on a spin cycle)!

fun, fun, fun! The slight downside is that Tat and I are actually going to be on the tele at some point in 2012, but I figure that if it's on a cable channel (gold-living-food-catchup-plus1 probably. In my excitement, I haven't ACTUALLY checked, which is a definate error. It might actually be on a good channel. Oops), then no one is going to see it, so we get an ace kitchen for a lot less than we would buy it off the shelf AND we get to have arsed about with a camera crew for a couple of days!

Off to practise wearing full make up and giant sunglasses and half heartedly running away from paparazzi with my hand over my face. AWESOME!

The Good the Bad and the Ugly (3 of 3)

Oh dear reader!

I've only gone and done it again. I know, I know, I'm a pretty dreadful blogger. It's fortunate no one reads me, otherwise you'd be so disappointed in me.

So to cover the last seven months in hopefully pithy and amusing style, there follows three posts outlining some stand-out moments: Good, Bad and Ugly...

The Good

Where do I start? Just where do I start - so much has been jolly good / awesome / funny / totes amaze (delete pop references as appropriate):
  • We moved house! We now own a pink house at the top of Hanover that we're slowly redecorating. Being a home owner again is brilliant. It means if I want wallpaper from some ridiculously arrogant Shoreditch 'designer' featuring illustrated woodland creatures smoking pipes and drinking cocktails, I can! And I do! And it's so expensive just thinking about it has given me a nose bleed!
  • We've been married a year! Being married is ace. We've only had one argument in the whole year (his fault, obvs). I like to think it's because we sit down and work out our problems in an adult and mature manner - although in reality it's because neither of us can be arsed to put up a fuss about stuff now we're in it for the long haul. Arguing's such a waste of time when you can spend your energy laughing at your husbands trumps and rolling your eyes at each other and making faces behind the backs of people when they claim that "marriage isn't for them". Ha! whateves - loveless LOSERS"
  • I am 37. Yes 37. Contrary to what you'd think. Being old is actually pretty amazeballs. Firstly, people might think you're a twat for saying things like 'amazeballs' but if they're younger, they're too embarrassed and slightly intimidated to point it out to your face. Secondly, you are now authorised by law to spend up to £50 on moisturiser. Thirdly, you know enough about yourself to be confident in your own skin and appreciate your own strengths and weaknesses. Fourthly, you pretty much don't give a shit what people think of you any more; which, after a lifetime of being ginger, overweight "with a great personality" (or as a family member once coined me "The spit of her father. Who is a man of course") is pretty revolutionary. However, it does mean that if you express an interest in any of the members of One Direction, people get a bit twitchy. Although I don't think there's a law against having them a screensaver....
  • Tat officially looks like and acts like Karl Pilkington, which by default means that I also find Karl Pilkington unbelievably attractive and frankly downright sexy. It was OK when KP was on the radio and no one really knew who he was and people noticing the similarities to Tat were occasional and passing. But NOW, he's been on the tele loads, I'm actually faced with a thinner version of my husband complaining about all the things he usually does, moaning about just wanting a sit down and a packet of crisps - but not only on the settee beside me (usually picking his nose) but also ON THE BLEEDIN' 42 INCH PLASMA TELE! If it wasn't so unsettling, I could put the surround sound on and have an orgy (*reaches for parental control button on blog settings*)
If this year has been so good, just think about 2012 - it's going to be OLYMPIC!

(see what I did there)

The Good the Bad and the Ugly (2 of 3)

Oh, be still my heart! the BAD!

Snakes alive, where does one start?
This year has the potential to be an annus horribilis, if it wasn't such an amusing phrase to write. OK, I exaggerate for comic effect, but honestly, this year has been tough

At various points in 2011, we have faced:
  • Financial ruin after potentially defaulting on our mortgage due to some frankly, shonky, advice from a tired and inexperienced ING Direct call centre worker about the speed in which he could transfer large sums of money (not an experience I recommend repeating if you're fond of not vomiting from fear)
  • Total debilitating heartbreak after having to take our much longed and planned for dog back to the RSPCA after a change in circumstances made it impossible for us to give him the type of home he needed (I thought I was sad when the last hamster - Biscuit - died and we had to give the cat - Spider - away due to Tat's selfish sudden allergic reaction. Man alive, that didn't even touch the sides of how I felt having to give Fred back. Bursting into tears hearing dogs bark behind closed front doors is still now a regular occurance. Sheesh!)
  • Various deaths - most recently an ex boyfriend who took his own life (not actually processing that one yet...)
  • Redundancy scares
All in all, what I am calling through my glass half full eyes - a steep learning curve.

The Good the Bad and the Ugly (1 of 3)

So the Ugly....

Well, in the past seven months, I suppose I've got to count the following:
  • My stress hives: BLOW ME DOWN IF I DIDN'T ONLY GO AND DEVELOP A NEW REACTION TO STRESS! There's smug little me, thinking I know it all about my physical reactions to stress - that I'm coping just fine with a little light eczema around the joints and a crooked back, when LO! The day we take Fred back to the RSPCA, I wake up with what can only be described as a medieval looking bumpy rash over 30% of my upper body! It took 2 weeks, a load of antihistamines and extensive research from KarlTat on google images (don't, honestly, if you've just eaten it won't help you), but I'm cured. Horrah! can't wait for that to come back....
  • My reaction to the fact that I was the only person who voted for a Pantomine fancy dress theme at our work xmas do this year. I didn't know I had such petulance in me! Secretly impressed with my own "toys out of pram" posturing and loud exclamations about soullessness and boringness. Absolutely the attitude and behaviour of a Board director during this turbulent economic time
  • Repeat appearances of my husband's long toenails (lets just call them "tree climbers" and be done with it)

Friday, 15 April 2011

My husband Karl Pilkington

So, Tat's started to be mistaken for Karl Pilkington. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Sometimes I find it really funny, because Tat is in fact a grumpy, lazy Manc - so the fact they look the same as well is quite entertaining. But it's quite weird sitting next to Tat on the settee listening to him moaning about something and watching Karl Pilkington on the tele, moaning about the same thing.

Wish Tat was as successful. I'd bet we'd be able to buy a much better house and we'd be friends with Stephen Merchant.

Renewed efforts to lose a stone

Right. This is it. The last year I get wingey about being a stone over weight.

I've got an appointment with the fitness instructor tomorrow at 10am to get a new regime that tackles the saddle bags and the bingo wings.

I caught sight of myself out shopping last weekend and fair enough, I had a raging hangover, so my powers of deduction weren't as sharp as usual, but I swear to god, my upper arm was sagging over the top of my elbow when my arm was bent straight. I have the arms of a 50 year old. And not a Madonna 50 yr old with muscles (and probably a penis), but the arms of a 50 year old dinner lady. Most probably the one who got sacked from my middle school for stealing toilet paper by smuggling it out of the school, wrapped round her legs like old lady bandages under her tights.

Sweet Jesus, aging is a cruel mistress. Not only has my metabolism slowed down, it's practically going backwards. I spent the last few months training for another half marathon and admitedly, my fondness for 'carb loading' starting including less than wholesome items like entire buckets of haagen daas Baileys. But I was running a minimum of 24 miles a week and I wasn't losing any weight.

Don't even let me get started on my saddlebags. It's like I'm permanently wearing several pairs of those cyclist shorts with the padded arses and thighs. I'm like an inverted Chris Hoy. It's a wonder I haven't sponteneously combusted with all the friction my running must cause.

If I could just wire my big fat greedy mouth shut, this would be all so easy.

Getting Married

Well it's a funny old business getting married isn't it?

You have this image of looking blissful and slender, wafting about in something fabulous, while your fatter and spottier friends hover around the edges of your peripheral vision, murmering their admiration about how spectacular the whole day is and how radiant you look.

Well, the reality is very different.

You spend about a year and a not such a small fortune ordering stuff like bunting, fairy cakes and ribbon. Agonise over the guest list and arguments about reception drinks and the fact you can't stop thinking you're going to fall over in your wedding high heels. Then the day goes by in a complete blur and you can't remember any of it apart from the chronic indigestion and the fact you fell over drunk in front of your mum.

My wedding rings are nice though!

And the honeymoon to Brazil was awesome!