Shopping for wedding outfits

What larks, dear reader

A chum is getting spliced in three weeks and i'm on the hunt for an outfit.

There is absolutely no chance in the world that I am going to be even in the same league of good looking ness as the rest of the guests. For a start the bride is a GORGEOUS blonde size 8 who wears the most fashionable city shorts with high heels and all of her other mates are a maximum size 10, all of which are tanned, blonde goddesses or fabulously sleek limbed brunettes.

This tubby ginge, just ain't gonna cut it at this party.

However, it does give one a certain freedom in the wardrobe dept. They all either don't know me from adam or think I'm a bit of a twat anyway, so if I chipped up in a Banana Man costume, it would be rather par for the course. With this in mind, anything off the high street will attract zero interest, so I can look as stupid as I like.

Cue the ridiculous shoes I have just bought http://www.irregularchoice.com/

My boots are so ace and new and brilliant that they're not even on the website yet! They're silver material, with rows and rows of different colour metallic spots on them, with a lace up in blue ribbon at the back. I am going to wear them with either:

• a light green vintage 60s shift dress with a big panel of lace down the front
• An electric blue, silk, floor length fleetwood mac style 70's number (first choice if temperature is less than 20 degrees)
• A bright green knee length grecian style dress I bought in the M&S sale today (is a bit bland, so am going to put different coloured ribbon around my waist to match the shoes and peacock feathers in the barnet)

Awesome awesome awesome!

Sweetheart doesn't seem to mind if I look like a ginger leprecaun on acid and I don't know any fecker apart from the bride, so I'm planning to chip up dressed like I ran through Littlewoods in 1974 on my way to a marc bolan concert, get leathered on the free booze, flirt with the brides dad and be sick in the taxi home. EXCELLENT NIGHT OUT!

Last time I did that though, I had to be escourted from the wedding reception at 8pm, totally shitfaced after slurring at the people I had deemed as "boring" - "i don't care you're not talking to me - you're all a bunch of c**** anyway!"

*close eyes in horror at own shame*

I'm not all that good with strangers. Sweetheart thinks I'm super confident, but that's only because I have to do the jazz hands shizit for the two of us because he has a massive confidence issue. In reality, I'm cringing inside and have to have about a bottle of rose inside me before I can talk to people.

Not a fact one of my best marras was concerned about when she made me do a reading at her wedding a couple of years ago - but that's all water under the bridge now. I'm going to make her do a dance routine in a freakin' leotard at mine.

God, better buy something off the wedding list this weekend. With only 3 weeks to go the affordable stuff will all be gone and the only stuff left will be single salad forks (which will make me look like a tight arse) or a dining room table. Damn my tardiness.

I tell you what, grapple fans - if I ever get spliced I'm going to make it fancy dress and we're all have a lovely old sing song to Dolly Parton and Queen instead of all of this stressful giant dress, sit down tea and massive event business.

eeks!

broken neck

So I totally broke my neck last week.

Well, OK, seriously pulled the muscles in it. Eitherway it was incredibly painful. I'm not sure why or how I did it, but I did something odd to the muscles on the right shoulder blade, which tightened and shortened them, which in turn pulled the muscles on the left side until I was constantly pulling the one that runs down your head and over your shoulder that starts with S and has 6 syllables. That was the one that hurt. A lot.

Super Sam @ Body & Soul who sorted it put me through 45 mins of intensive full on agony on Tuesday night - but by Thursday night I could turn my head again and sleep without painkillers. Awesome. I then went back on Friday night (I know, the glamour) for stage two of magical neck recovery and now I can pretty much spin my head around like an owl and could go for a run this morning.

What was a bit worrying was my mum emailing me with a recipe for mixing non prescription painkillers to get the most effect cocktail of pain relief. Impressive, but slightly worrying - don't think you learn that from Women & Home.

Yes I know this post is minus in amusement value. But it dominated my week, so you're hearing about it anyway.

So there

middle class brighton

I saw something on my street today, that I only thought I would see on the streets of east dulwich. I am afriad.

A whole family wearing crocs

The father was a too old for the jeans and hat he was sporting

He was playing a harmonica while his women folk (all wearing funny bits of material wrapped around their coiffeured heads) all simpered with delight

i bet they had mung beans in their hessian shopping bags

noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Where are the gay body-poppers and vomiting teenagers? where are the pierced rockerbillies with mexican skull tattoos?

Oh - it's OK readers - PHEW - a very drunk homeless man is asleep in a neighbours doorway a couple of doors down on the opposite side.

THAT - my darlings - was a close one.

ANNOYING GOOGLE

Man alive, they're pissing me off!

Every time I want to log into this ruddy blog I have to reset the pass word - TO THE SAME PASSWORD I MAY ADD - to get access.

I know they're making it super annoying and hard because i still don,t have a a google mail account. I don't WANT one. I have a hotmail AND a yahoo! and yahoo! has just started to get interesting with all of my contacts starting to get a bit more vital.

Am going to start looking for new blog facility - but I bet it's going to be really hard to export all of my current posts to a new one. Bah!

Anyone with any advice (out of the 2 people that read this, that 2 obv including myself) please let me know. Is really annoying

Ta muchly

Looking forward to seeing RB later

Calloo Callay, dear reader, I am seeing one of my bessy pals, RB later today.

She is one of the most impressive and professional people in the world. She pretty much redfines the word 'inspirational' in each job she has and if they could, I think her line managers would clone her and make an army of PR soldiers to take over the world (although secretly, you know PR people actually run the world anyway...).

She has also been my boss twice - and she is fucking hardcore.

However, what I particularly love about her is the fact that although she is super human and uber professional in the work place, not many people know that:

• when she gets home late at night, she often puts lumps of cheese in the microwave to melt them before eating them
• she has a season ticket to the Oval (is it called a season ticket in Cricket-land?) and when she goes to matches, she sits and watches it while listening to the commentary on headphones (loser)
• she gets annoyed at her lovely husband because he doesn't like many vegetables

I am very much looking forward to seeing her and her mum (who also has bonkers hair) later and drinking too much red wine and probably falling over.

Horray!

meeting new people

Although sweetheart hates it, now we're settled in and been in Brighton for 6 months, I'm trying to get us out and about to meet people and make friends.

Lat night we went next door to our fabulous neighbours for a couple of civilised drinks to get to know them and our neighbours on the other side.

Dear reader, it's 9.27am the next day and I am still drunk.

Man alive, we put it away. I can't even remember getting home and we LIVE NEXT DOOR. Yikes. I whole heartedly expect I was a massive twat and won't be invited back, but I am a bit in love with all our neighbours now.

N&M on the other side are pretty much the most attractive couple in Brighton (annoying? yes, of course) and have an amazing house that they've gutted and renovated and they are about 5 years younger than us (feckers). I&C next door's house used to be a restaurant and the original Lavendar Exchange! I's dad is a ridiculously talented artist and they have two cats I think I probably tried to smuggle home under my dress.

All in all, the sense of utter inadequateness that I feel on a daily basis at work, has been amplified about ten fold by trying to make friends. Boo. It all makes me want to go and have another tattoo. I think drawing something else on my body will make me a more interesting person.

Mum, look into my eyes - you didn't just read that - these are not the droids you are looking for....

British Military Punishment

I've thrown myself into the fray, dear reader and joined British Military Fitness with one of the girls from work.

I have to confess, the idea of being bossed about by a burly soldier in big boots and combat trews a couple of time a week was actually more compelling than the exercise part of the deal, but I thought that if I got thinner WHILE being a perv was a massive bonus.

Unfortunately, the soldiers are older and not as lush as I was anticipating (unsurprisingly, they don't look anything like all the blokes in Platoon) and they actually work you like a bitch.

Stella and I made the SCHOOL GIRL error of volunteering to go up a group from the pansy blues to the reds on Thursday and I swear to god I've snapped something that I didn't even know I had inside my tummy.

They literally make you drop down and give them 20 (press ups - fnarr) if you don't pay attention and on Thursday, we were all spotted standing with out hands on our hips after doing the assault course (going under the cargo net was my fav bit. although i wasn't very good at going in a straight line) trying to stop ourselves vomiting from exertion, so we were made to run to the next instructor with our hands on out hips shouting "i will not put my hands on my hips".

It's would actually be totally hilarious if I didn't want to die after every class.

I'll be a size 8 this time next year though.

Which will be a total result as currently my thighs are a size 8 each.

freakishly healthy people at work

OK, so you know I'm chubby and eat and drink too much yeah? and I have no discernable "skills" other than being able to put my whole fist in my mouth and play music on my teeth...

Well the new job is really testing me in ways I never expected it would. Dear reader, they are ALL massive health freaks.

In my first few days I discovered the following:

They all want to do the new Brighton marathon "because Brighton has been lobbying for one for ages" - I'm sorry = WHAT?!? fuck me, at our old gaff in SE London the locals were lobbying for a new needle exchange centre, but we didn't all have to become bloody smack head to "support it"

About 70% of them have tried at least one extreme sport - the girl that sits opposite me wake boarded TO WORK the other day

Two of my bosses have done the Tough Guy race (google it, go on, I dare you, get behavioural targeted by an endurance race) 4 years in a row

It's all a bit stressful to be honest.

It's bad enough moving to a new city and a brand new job, to find out that you are a totally inadequate human being in you're first few days is a little more than I was banking on.

hmm, Bank...Bankers... chiiiiiiiiiiiiips...........

STOP STOP STOP!!!

Must stop eating cheese on toast in my knickers and sleepy t-shirt and go for a run!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

new job = awesome

So I have been in the new job for 4 (count em) weeks and larks a mercy, it's going frighteningly well. I have so far convinced them of the following:

• I know what I am doing
• I know what I am talking about
• I am mostly sober

All in all a bit of a result!

The feckers made me pitch in my first week and do a presentation about online PR and search "stuff" in my second week at an industry exhibition, but according to our website, I "swam" despite being thrown in the deep end. They obviously haven't realised that the rictus spasm of fear on my face isn't actually a smile yet. Ah well - I'll start being evil quite soon and forcing my team to get in on time and they'll regret hiring me - but by then it will be too late as I will be over my probation period. mwha ha ha..!

It's a great company tho - we genuinely do some ace stuff - so regular readers who want some proper online PR - TAKE NOTE! and give us an opportunity to pitch for your business. I promise you won't regret it.

(honestly, as if I have regular readers...)

back on weight watchers - 18 points a day

Oh good grief

I'm only a bloody stone heavier than I want to be.  How did that happen? Literally ALL I've been eating is choclit and cheese - I mean that's protein and sugar - no carbs OR ANYTHING!

But anyhoot.  Breakfast has been toast without butter and jam.  4 points.

I have 14 points left for the rest of the day.  Even the wet catfood pouches are looking tasty already.

parents down for weekend

We had the first set of parents down last weekend. Mine. So a real baptism of fire. Happily we were all drunk for about 50% of it, but these were the moments of note:

• Mum's barely concealed delight at spotting the naturist beach and an elderly penis on the walk to the Marina
• Dad getting cross because he couldn't work the new mobile handset Tat had given to mum
• Me and Dad getting sunburnt - the ginger force was strong in our house last weekend
• Mum loudly talking about being able to see the sea when she was sitting on the toilet when the windows were open and the neighbours were outside
• Mum nearly walking into a wall when she saw Chris Eubank
• Mum getting cross when she found out we hadn't told her that David Walliams was having lunch in the same place as us (see mums reaction above for reason why we kept that one quiet)
• Mum getting confused with the fact our bedroom is down stairs and repeatedly walking in the wrong direction to go to the kitchen
• Dad getting cross when restaurants gave us bread at the beginning of the meal "I haven't asked for it, so I'm not paying for it"

Can't imagine how fun packed Christmas will be!

my sitting room looks like the Odeon

So we have a bigger sitting room since we moved. But not so big that I don't notice when sweetheart "smuggles" in new giant surround sound speakers. At the moment we have a 42 inch TV (which he isn't happy with any more and wants a projector - WHAT?!?) and 3 massive speakers around it that don't even fit on the TV cabinet thing.

Sadly it's now his responsibility to find a new piece of furniture to house everything, so I'm going to be staring at it for years to come

*sigh*

power plate action

Spurred on by the thought of going on an expensive holiday this year (big up the house sale - watch my profit turn to nothing as I squander it on global warming long haul flights and on shoes)... I've upped the anti (i wish it was auntie - imagine how hilarious "upping up your auntie would be) and as well as the gym, I'm also now doing power plates with one of the girls at work.

GOOD LORD.

Dear reader, if you have enjoyed some power plate action yourself in the past you'll know just how bonkers it is.

You basically stand on a huge vibrating metal plate and do half an hour of your normal exercises - dips, press ups, leg stretches, etc. 25 mins of power plating is the equivalent of an hour of weights. Sounds too good to be true until you've try and walk quickly back to the office afterwards to find that your internal organs have turned to jelly and all of your previously underused muscle groups are freaking out and shaking.

They are berillinat though. Have just been to gym today and after 2 PP sessions, I can run faster and further and have upped my weights on the machines.

Awesome. I'm going to be like a size zero batman. Lush.

my new 'personal trainer'...

.... well I say personal trainer.  i get three free sessions with Toby thrown in with my new gym membership.

So anyhoot - I've got my second session tomorrow and I'm only half looking forward to it.  Last time was an hilarious.  I've never done weights before and I was shown how to do all the arms ones, including dips and chin ups.  I was given a little sheet of my workout on it, but when I had to go an do my own circuit, I got all confused and flustered and forgot which section was which.  

Basically, I thought I had to do 150 chin ups at twice my bodyweight.  I got to 35, practically WEEPING.  My arms had turned to jelly and I had to be helped off the machine by a sneering muscle mary.  I sat on my own in a corner for a little while then wobbled into Toby's office trying not to look like a massive loser who couldn't event lift a tea cup without complaining.  

Turns out, I'm supposed to only do about 20, lifing my own body weight and now I've got to lay off the weights tomorrow incase I've ripped something (my right arm still hurts 7 days later).

What a DICK.

settling in by the sea side

As well as joining a new gym, when one moves house, a lady has to try and find a plethora of new establishments to help her stay the ravages of time.

Being ginger (or strawberry blonde, depending on how grumpy I'm feeling) i have a variety of ridiculous practises that i indulge in to try and make myself feel better.  The mojority of them involve factor 50 and a yashmack when sunbathing, but every 5 weeks, I enjoy painting my eyes with peroxide and hair dye in the name of tinting my eye lashes and eye brows.

Believe me, it's worth it, I have naturally white eyelashes and eyebrows and I actually look like Boris Becker (but chubbier and more rubbish at poker and tennis) without the burning (no really, its like effectively pouring burning acid in your eyes) effort of it all.  

So off I go at the weekend to try and find a lovely place for my eye replenishing.  I find a lovely smelling, relaxing, lovely, friendly place and ask for a menu of treatment delights.  I stick it in my bag and wander off, happy that I have found my new sanctury from a busy week at work and nagging Sweetheart.  

However, dear reader, what's a girl to do when she gets home to find that her new sanctury, haven and place of indulgent is endorsed by...

HEATHER MILLS

"I HAVE TRAVELLED ALL OVER THE WORLD.." says wor Heather "AND NEVER HAD A BETTER MASSAGE AND FACIAL..."

oh dear :(

it looks like an amazing place, but how can I relax when I am going to be on tenter hooks listening for the sinister tap, tap, tap of a Mills on her hoppity adventures?

Danny Wallace

um, I had a dream that TV funny man and comedic author, Danny Wallace, asked me out the other night

AWESOME.

The fact that he is (very probably - how would i know, he's a total stranger?!?) happily married, I am too old to have stupid dreams like this and I didn't think I even fancied Danny Wallace, seem to have not mattered.

The only thing that does matter is that now Sweetheart does anything I don't like, I say.. "Danny wouldn't do this..."

mwa ha ha!

commute update

so it's the start of our second week of the regular commute and I'm starting to get the hang of it.  I definately want to start getting a delishus steamed soya milk (well i did live in london for 10 years) to drink on the way in, as getting up at 6am and not having breakfast until 9am is a mistake - my tummy has been growling at people on the train.

I have the following observations about my fellow south coast commuters:

• they like their favourite seats - and don't like you sitting in them if you are new
  
• the bigger and more exciting the breakfast pack up the better - last week I sat opposite a lady who had a thermos of coffee, a little plastic box with yoghurt, fruit and cereal in it and a thermos of porridge
  
• yoofs with loud headphones are not tolerated - people OPENLY stare, yes, OPENLY - gadzooks, in London they just stab you...
  
• Reading materials are quite similar - there's a lot of sci-fi
• Everyone agrees that the service has got a lot worse since the timetable change in December - although i dont really understand that, surely the route and the trains are the same....?

 

the seagull has landed

It's been ages since my last post, apologies dear reader.

but there is good reason - we've MOVED! Yay!  We now live in Brighton in an awesome 4 storey , 2 bedroom townhouse with a great view of the sea and only 5 minutes away from the train station (very handy when you have to get the 06.51 train every morning).

the commute is pretty brutal at the moment and I'm going to have to really get used to it, but so far it's OK.  If the trains run fine then it's not the worst thing in the world.  If they don't then of course you're sat there for sometimes an extra 30 mins, but you can't have everything and if it was easy then everyone would be doing it and it wouldn't be fab living here because it would be full of cockneys.

more good news - exchanged on the flat yesterday too! yippee! the stupid boiler, broken tiles in the bathroom and damp is now all someone elses problem! horrah!  it's amazing renting again.  it does feel wierd that this isn't my home, I've been a home owner for more than seven years so of course there is randome anxiety about "not being on the property ladder" for a bit, but the fact that when something is broken someone else fixes it and pays for it, totally makes up for it!  

So, on wednesday next week a big lump sum arrives in my banck account - AWESOME.  Will i be able to resist spendiong it all on stupid tat from Primark?  Who knows, but its a nice feeling and i'm really pleased and happy that little headache is over.

so so cold

So I've been waiting in all afternoon in the freezing cold, wearing x2 jumpers waiting for the gas man to arrive and at 19.14, he's still not here.

When does it become OK to start crying tears of despair?

I am also due off my month of not boozing this weekend. I start tonight as soon as the gas man cometh (don't want to be pissed when he gets here, would be like a dreadful porno "oh, Dave, although you can tell I'M really cold, the temperature doesn't seem to affect you at all" - or am I being kind to the script writers there?)

We can shower at the gym during the weekend, so it's not the end of the world, but it's so mo fo cold, man.

Have been tweeting mad today. How much am I loving twitter? a lot that much, am going to find all my pals so we never really talk to each other ever again! horrah!

The house drama continues, BTW. After an amazing (in the true sense of the word - fantastical) offer of £1 less than asking that fell through in 2 days (the couple claimed they split up - BLATant liars), I'm trying to push through an offer of £10k less than asking which is still ace. However hit a snag in the fact the buyers surveyor has valued the property at a stonking £25k less than the offer was made for.

SIGH.

Obv the buyers (well I say buyer) mortgage company are refusing to give him a mortgage for the amount he's offered on the flat, so the estate agents are currently giving me a load of guff about how they're "working hard" to move this forward. Whatever. It's all reasonably stressful and depressing. EOP monday is my cut off point to freak out and demand the nonsense to stop in a hysterical voice and get them to just find tenents to rent the bugger too.

Oh roll on living in someone elses flat, not caring about the vin rogue on the carpet and over loading the washing machine.

boiler issues

OH FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE.

Crap day at work yesterday, so went for (soft - still not drinking, round of applause please) drink after work before gym.  missed trasin i wanted to get by about 3 minutes, so sacked of gym.  THANK THE LORD I DID, dear reader, for when i returned to the love nest, noticed the radiators weren't on, two minutes of peering into the boiler later revealed that my pilot light had gone out and the pressure had dropped to MINUS 1? WHAT? how is this possible? I have minus pressure? what does that mean? am I going to start being sucked into a vortex behind the boiler? is the reverse pressure going to start pulling my kitchen table and chairs towards the wall?

What quantum physic larks!

Anyhoo - have called british gas and the earliest they first claimed they could come was monday. MONDAY?!?!  So I'd have 4 days of no hot water and heating? if i was an old person, I'd be DEAD by Monday! 

Needless to say I kicked off on the telephone and they're coming today so working from home.  

The New Seekers are on BBC Breakfast.  I'm being sucked into a black hole behind my boiler while being serenaded by "I'd like the teach the wrold to sing" - I have clearely disappeared into a paralles universe.

Right, off to gym to use the showers.  Urgh.  Will go for run first to delay the development of foot rot from the changing room floors.

I WANT MORE PETS!

I must tel you about our time share cat, Spider.

He's awesome.  Eight years old, with a titanium hip (now please say "we can rebuild him" in bionic man voice over way, thank you), a dodgy jaw and a toungue that doesn't go back in his mouth after eating and drinking so it looks like he's poking his tongue out at you half the time.  Very cuddly and squeaky. An all round excellent cat.

Sweetheart and I were going to adopt him from Sweetheart's sister as she had become super alergic over the past few months and wasn't enjoying having him around any more.  So he comes to visit.  I love him, Sweetheart loves him, but after 24 hours, Sweetheart's eyes start swelling up and going bloodshot and his snoring gets even louder and more sleep disruptive.  Yes, clever reader, Sweethart is also traumatically allergic.

Bum holes.

So we have Spider on a bit of a timeshare.  We have him for a little bit, Sweetheart's sister takes him home after we've spoilt him rotten, we have him for xmas, he goes home chubby and full of smoked salmon.

The cat is basicaly turning into some kind of ancient Chinese emperor god cat, given everything he wants because we all want him to love us the best and miss us when he's staying at the other household.

I imagine his demands to get more and more outrageous until Sweetheart and I are sleeping on the floor in the bedroom and he's asleep stretched out on the bed, mewling at us until we put the electric blanket on.

Death in the family

I had 6 goldfish this time last week, but sadly, lost one of the little slippery critters in the past few days.

He / she (i have no idea how you can tell, i don't want to look for little fishy pee-pee sticks.  gross) developed a swollen tummy, I am now reliably informed, partly from feeding at the surface and gulping in too much air and partly from poor tank hygene (oops).

However, the trauma of discovering the little golden floater paled into insignificance when I returned home to the distressing scene to find that sweetheart had been in for more than 45 minutes watching the tele DIRECTLY ABOVE THE FISH TANK and not noticed.

*deep troubled sigh*

This is the SECOND goldfish misdemeanor.  The first made angry for weeks.  When I first got the fish (my own stupid pet owning zeal.  I agreed to the task of taking them before researching how ridiculous they are to house.  I got the frigging fish for free, but had to spend about £150 on the tank and all the mo fo accessories), I had 6 little zippy baby ones and inherited Big Boy, a SEVEN YEAR OLD big bastard about the size of my hand.  Big Boy had been my company goldfish for those seven years and had survived tank moves, bad fish husbandy from a series of bored and testy PR Assistants who had only just graduated and wanted to be talking to national journalists and celebrities, not cleaning up fish shit.  Anyhoot.  So I get him home, in the new tank and everything's dandy.

Then sweetheart wants to install V+.  Not a problem, he'll even get time off work to meet the  (he won't take any time off to do anything important, oh no, but if we need all 2million sky sports channels, then show him the holiday form and he'll sign his bloody life away - anyway I digress...)  So, sweethart gets his V+ installed.  

That night, the tank starts looking a bit manky - but I'm home from work late (quelle surprise) and knackered so promise the fish I'll sort them out the next night.  Next night rolls around, I get home and the tank is pretty much all bright green and BIG BOY IS STIFF AS A BOARD AT THE BOTTOM OF THE TANK! Terrible scenes. He's a big fish, it's VILE.

Not only that, but sweethart has been WATCHING THE FOOTBALL ON THE TELE DIRECTLY ABOVE THE TANK WITHOUT NOTICING FOR AN HOUR.

Even worse, he GETS IN A MASSIVE MOOD WHEN I FREAK OUT AND START RESCUING THE OTHER FISHIES from the green mire because I'm getting in the way of Manchester United.

Even, even worse, when I start cleaning the tank out.  I realise THAT SWEETHART HAD UNPLGGED THE FUCKING FILTER TO PLUG IN HIS V+ .

Jesus wept, dear reader.  It was a tense night in the love nest, I can tell you.  Sweetheart it still paying for it as his office is near an aquarium shop, so everytime I need anything new, it's his job to go to the aquarium shop to find it and pay for it.  Even so, he got off pretty lightly for cold blooded selfish MURDER.

the reason we were in Brighton in the first place....

Was obv to house hunt (see first ever post - um only 4 posts ago...)

Well we found one and we love it.  2 bedrooms, over 4 floors (no need for a stairmaster - oh no dear reader - i have REAL STAIRS!), sea view, etc, etc.  Basically lushness wrapped in lushness.

We were super excited and celebrated the night we found it (see previous post) and then I went to work all smug, but also starting to get the fear re: the commute.  Showed girls at work and blow me down if one of work pals doesn't recognise the house from the pictures on the estate agent website!

Amazing and brilliant, but noticed she only started recognising the house when we got to pictures OF THE BOUDOIR.  Ha! one of my firneds has shagged in my bedroom and I'm not even living there yet.  That's how cutting edge we are.

buckled under pressure of celebrating in Brighton

Oh bum - so I broke my duck after 2 weeks and had a drink in what turned into a bit of an eventful weekend - but more of that later...

drinks i had:

friday night - x2 remy brandies (as i am well posh and enjoying digestifes now i am old)

saturday night - x2 glasses house (horrible, so forced down the second) champagne, half a bottle of v nice vin rougue, x1 double brandy (enjoying digestife-ness again) x1 double rum (realised i was being a wanker so went back on the usual)

So not MASSIVELY ridiculous and happily, even though i hadn't had a drink for 17 days, i had no hangover on the sunday.

However, sweetheart had a few issues....

Mum had booked us into a realy nice little posh hotel in Brighton as a xmas pressie to help us find a new gaff.  Hotel v nice, rooms lovely and comfortable, but a bit small, so to get over space issue, the room we stayed in had black tassled curtain instead of door to en suite.  Not a problem, quite fun and made us giggle on night one.  

Night two however, different story.  

So adhering to NTR(esolution) am not eating meat, so we had very different meals in the restaurant of the hotel on saturday night.  Mine was delishus and fine, sweethearts also delishus.  Until about 4am the next morning when it became violently obvious that sweetheart had been poisoned by his food.  VERY BADLY.

Imagine this dear reader, sweetheart projectile from both ends - upsetting anyway as no one likes to see a darling heart in distress, but in a small hotel room with a tassled ruddy curtain instead of a door? Also very fucking loud.  I swear to god, I felt dreadful for sweetheart but all the retching, coughing, moaning and splattering made me feel quite faint.  I had to escape at 9am for an early morning stroll "to get some first aid stuff".

However, returned at 11ish with plain bagels (as sweetheart had basically voided approximately 4 days worth of food in as many hours), more sicky and pooh-pooh pills than you can shake a shitty (pah! pardon the pun) stick at.  It was touch and go for several hours, but we made it home to SE London in the fastest time ever.  1.5 hours door to door.  Not bad.  It's amazing the urgency a screaming arsehole dictates to a situation.

(ho ho - someone on the tele has just said "that's a nasty gash" fnaarrr!)

so i still haven't had a drink yet!

hip hip horrah! I still haven't had a drink yet.

OK, yes I'm cheating again, it's actually only been about 2 minutes since my last post.  But I have loads of wine in the kitchen which is only about 5 feet away, so i think I'm beiong quite restrained when the bloody football is on (Man U lost to Derby. ha ha ha!).

Am making most of my dry month, by the way, by making loads of plans at the weekend.

This saturday I'm meeting a pal for lunch then going to a gallery afterwards.  Check my style.  Oh yes.  As I said on text while organising said date (of course one doesn't talk to friends inbetween meeting up, we communicate by self delusional 'quicker' and 'easier' means.  Indeed, trying to text a whole conversation and sending it in 15 messsages is loads easier than a 2 minute conversation)... am excited, this must be how real adults socialise.  

Am then on sunday, meeting another chum (I know, my cup runneth over with friends, huh? TWO in TWO DAYS?!?!) for a stroll around several east london markets.  Am steeling self to resist spend on cheap tat that i will never wear.  I will use my 2 cm thick hand sewn brown leather, stencil embossed, over shoulder bag purchased from another said east london market, as a spending shield.  Must remember CREDIT CRUNCH.

Yikes, watching news - Viyella is in administrations.  GOOD RIDDANCE - VILE SKIRTS.  

However, have you noticed how the star of the economics commentors on BBC News is in ascendance? Lummy.  If I was war correspondant who was shot to shit in Iraq and still can't stand without a zimmer frame, I would be quietly polishing up my CV and swotting up on Barack or something.  His day in the sun is O. Ver.

let's start at the very beginning.....

A very good place to start, indeed, dear reader.

So, I've been watching Anne Frank and quite frankly, if a bloody 13 yr old, with quite DREADFUL hair can do a good diary about living in an attic for ages that people having been 'raving' about for years then a 3@ yr old with a much better barnet (on a good day) and a front door I can walk out of every day, should be able to manage it.

Um, is that offensive? Larks knows, but anyhoot...

It's 7th of January 2009 (jesus, when did this happen, shouldn't we all be wearing moonboots to work and holidaying at the bottom of the sea by now? I'm sure I saw that on Tomorrow's World ages ago), so it's resolution time.  Urgh.

However, in spirit of keeping up with those communist womens' magazines who tell you not to diet and "love youself as you are" then try and flog you backstreet boob jobs and fanny tucks from page 112 onwards, I have constructed a small and hopefully manageable list:

January is official NO BOOZING month

This is TOTALLY DO-ABLE.  I did it last year.  Well, got to about the 16th then buckled over a glass of vin rougue.  BUT made up for it, by then self flagelating and not drinking to 16th of Feb to set an example of myself.  

I will stop eating meat for good

Also EASY.  As only have meat when drunk now.  Unfortunately, this usually takes the form of something rank from one of those salmonella vans on street corners, or pretend Unlucky Fried Kitten shops that litter South London that is actually deep fried knee caps, when i do eat meat is SUPER BAD.  So this must stop.  I say a firm, but polite 'no thank you' to horrid meat takeaways from now on.

I will do 10k under 1 hour

aha, aha, ahahahahahahahahahahaha!!

no, i will.  That tall thin famous wee-wee (but i wish it had been a pooh really) by the side of the road lady ran with a broken bloody leg.  Surely I can do a paltry 6 miles in 60 minutes? Hmm, we'll revisit this one in a few weeks.......

I will move myself and my sweetheart to Brighton

OK, I'm cheating now.  The flat is already up to let.  It's really nice if you're interested.  Garden and everything.......

Keep up this blogging lark

I am not a secret prostitute, a massive shagging slag (i mean, honestly - her PARENTS would have read that) or do anything particularly interesting, but have meant to do one for years, before it was mainstream (that tells you how behind the curve I am) and I've got to get on this bloody bandwaggon before it's discovered I'm not really using Twitter yet either.