Oh lads. 4th October was my last post, and I wouldn't blame you at all for totally losing interest and jogging on to another blog. But lads! I've got many, many news. Here's a good ol' list to get us started, so we all know where I've been for two whole months:
1) I got my dream job. Yes! For years and YEARS I slogged away at a job that I didn't enjoy with my full soul and FINALLY I've got the one I've always wanted. Still a hairy Librar-y BUT! One with purpose. Good times. So, just so we're clear, my job is amazeballs.
2) Mega decorating of Bumbaleerie mansions, INCLUDING a new kitchen floor what I've detailed a billion times on this very blog. But it is down, my friends, down at last and the crib is looking mega-marvy. BUT, lads, this tale is not without sorrow. Husband and I spent a great deal of time (money) on the floor and they did not turn up THRICE times. Furious was I. SO furious that I sent Husband in to shout at the 'men' and he came out all matey with them. 'NON' je thought to je-self. 'This is non happening' unt it was left to me to have a hairy fit until we'd got what wee'd (tee hee) paid for. But it's down now fellas, so all's well.
3) Em. Two months is quite a lot, isn't it? I don't seem to have filled my time very well at all. If I'm honest, I think the lack o' updating is due to a combination of not having made anything new, due to commencing my shiny new job unt my computer being broke.
But anyhoo lads, now is the season of joy and goodwill (wine), so I hope you had a Merry ole One. I forgot to post my Christmas cards, it's probably too late now. Next year I'm totally going to write a round robin, because they are sehr hilarious. SO, here's a practice one just pour vous (as you can see, this year I've gone VERY international avec mon language)
Dear Friends,
This year began well with January, which is how every year seems to begin! We had a jolly old time at New Year with our friends, who came to the house baring (tee hee) wine and also Articulate (the Best Game in the World). Sadly, the competitive spirit overcame Husband and they left minus two friends. But hey, there's always next year!!! (Lads, I've noticed that the common trait with round robins is to use a plethora of exclamation marks, or 'the mark of the moron'. I rather like them, actually)
Valentine's Day brought Husband and I much joy. I cannot begin to describe how happy I was to unwrap 'David Hasslehoff Sings America' which my ever-frugal Husband had discovered in a bargain-bin in Asda. He was right, it's the presents that you don't think you'll need that have the biggest impact!!
I remember very little of March. Nothing, in fact. I may well have slept through it. April delivered our SECOND WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, and on it, we though about going out for dinner but had just returned from New York, so were counting pennies to buy milk. But we celebrated in our own little way - I drank heavily and Husband probably hoovered something.
May, June and July - no idea. In August I turned 27, which was GHASTLY but I'm holding it together (wine).
September, I was able to hand my notice in at my horrendous job, which filled me with a sense of freedom and good spirit (gin). And I felt TERRIBLY sad to be leaving (false) but I managed to hold myself together. Until the last day, when I fell over in my haste to leave (true story - I skinned my knees and everything).
October, I started my new place of work and everything was amazeballs again. It is very, very nice to be in a job you enjoy. Husband decided to make October the month that he started several new hobbies, including but not limited to, 'Leaving Socks in the Living Room', 'Not Putting Stuff in the Dishwasher' and 'Generally Being Annoying'. But, we are still very much in love!!!!!!!!
November was mine and Husband's TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF BEING IN LOVE. I explained to Husband that the phrase 'ten year anniversary' just SCREAMS 'diamond, pear-shaped solitaire brackets fist-sized) but he was having NONE of it. Rude.
And Christmas was marv-u-lous, mainly because of the eating. We hope the New Year finds you well, and will sign off with that most traditional of Scottish phrases:
'Lang may yer lum reek!"*
Eilidhbelle and also Husband
xxx
*May you always have coal for your fire, so your lum (chimney) is always smoking.
Saturday 29 December 2012
Thursday 4 October 2012
The One Where I Eat So Much I Get A Food Hangover
Hello Chinas!
Last night I went to Chop Chop in Edinburgh's Haymarket - if you haven't been, stop what you're doing immediately and go. It is the BAWS. I was going to take some pictures but then I didn't, because I really didn't want to be the weirdo who takes pictures in a restaurant. So, you'll just have to use your imagination! It's traditional Chinease food, so none of yer deep fried chicken junk that we are so familiar with. No! It's all hand-prepared noodles and homemade dumplings and crispy shredded potato and fluffy rice AND I ate so much that I had to lean against a pole at the train station to try and pull myself together. Total dumpling overdose, fellas, leading to what can only be described as a 'food hangover' upon waking this morning. I'm not sorry though, I would do it again right now.
I love food.
And because of that. I have been GORGING on the new Nigella series. I'm only just at the stage where I can watch Nigella and not yell I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER every time she appears on screen. I love her because she is SAUCY and I think we'd be really good friends. HOW CAN I MAKE THIS HAPPEN? I love the way she's all 'Ooooooh, just reaching up hear for this NAUGHTY SAFFRON!" - sometime I do this for Husband, until he grows weary and asks me to stop. Also, it's not the same when I lick my fingers, rake around in the cupboard, use saucy innuendo like 'oh, this pan is FILTHY *wink*' and then serve up toast. It's not the same at all.
In making news, Chinas, last week I decided to start on my 40's style dress that I talked about in this one. Total nightmare fellas, and I know exactly why. It's a combintation of 1) not knowing how to do it 2) not being patient enough to learn 3) not reading things properly AND 4) wine. So I (sort of) had the bodice finished and was cracking in to the sleeves when I realised I had sewn the sides inside out and the sleeve on the wrong side. So I gave up on that. Also, it doesn't fit me - it's too big around the bust (tee hee), arms, butt and shoulders, and too tight around the waist. Story of my LIFE chaps! And now I not only have to learn how to make it, but also how to adjust it. I might give up on it as an idea.
And to finish, here's a video of the unfriendly cat doing 'Paw and Other Paw'. I think we can agree that the quality is INCREDIBLE. Sorry that it's sideways, I'm not sure why that is the case or what I can do to fix it. S'laters!
Last night I went to Chop Chop in Edinburgh's Haymarket - if you haven't been, stop what you're doing immediately and go. It is the BAWS. I was going to take some pictures but then I didn't, because I really didn't want to be the weirdo who takes pictures in a restaurant. So, you'll just have to use your imagination! It's traditional Chinease food, so none of yer deep fried chicken junk that we are so familiar with. No! It's all hand-prepared noodles and homemade dumplings and crispy shredded potato and fluffy rice AND I ate so much that I had to lean against a pole at the train station to try and pull myself together. Total dumpling overdose, fellas, leading to what can only be described as a 'food hangover' upon waking this morning. I'm not sorry though, I would do it again right now.
I love food.
And because of that. I have been GORGING on the new Nigella series. I'm only just at the stage where I can watch Nigella and not yell I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I LOVE HER every time she appears on screen. I love her because she is SAUCY and I think we'd be really good friends. HOW CAN I MAKE THIS HAPPEN? I love the way she's all 'Ooooooh, just reaching up hear for this NAUGHTY SAFFRON!" - sometime I do this for Husband, until he grows weary and asks me to stop. Also, it's not the same when I lick my fingers, rake around in the cupboard, use saucy innuendo like 'oh, this pan is FILTHY *wink*' and then serve up toast. It's not the same at all.
In making news, Chinas, last week I decided to start on my 40's style dress that I talked about in this one. Total nightmare fellas, and I know exactly why. It's a combintation of 1) not knowing how to do it 2) not being patient enough to learn 3) not reading things properly AND 4) wine. So I (sort of) had the bodice finished and was cracking in to the sleeves when I realised I had sewn the sides inside out and the sleeve on the wrong side. So I gave up on that. Also, it doesn't fit me - it's too big around the bust (tee hee), arms, butt and shoulders, and too tight around the waist. Story of my LIFE chaps! And now I not only have to learn how to make it, but also how to adjust it. I might give up on it as an idea.
And to finish, here's a video of the unfriendly cat doing 'Paw and Other Paw'. I think we can agree that the quality is INCREDIBLE. Sorry that it's sideways, I'm not sure why that is the case or what I can do to fix it. S'laters!
Tuesday 25 September 2012
The One With Some Making
Evenin' fellas.
So, you know how sometimes I'm all 'I will FINISH all the things before starting MOAR of the things!' and other times I'm all 'Start moar! Start moar things! Finish none of the things!' Well, just now I'm in the Starty phase, not good at all.
This is me cutting out the pattern for my Collette Macaron dress. I have all the fabric and notions for this, I'm all set. Have I started it? I have not. Why? I dunno. Oh, wait! I DO know! It's because I haven't made a dress yet, and I heard that this was a hard one. So, I released my grasp on the bull's horns. PS. I hate cutting out patterns. I wish I could employ a pattern cutter-outer called Derek or something. Please leave me a comment along the lines of 'You can do it! Just make it! What's the WORST that could happen?!' and then I'll be all 'YES I CAN DO IT NOW!'. Thanks.
Anyway, after completely abandoning THAT I moved on with THIS:
This is a rubbish picture of the pattern I talked about in this fascinatingly exciting post - how can I fail when I have so many books on dressmaking? How hard could it be?! Answer: quite hard, because I haven't read any of the books. I should like to take a moment's pause here, while you contemplate the fact that I am actually, a qualified Librarian. A qualified Librarian who can't be bothered to read. But I need to be SHOWN, being SHOWN is the key. I don't have TIME to learn a new skill (I don't know if you can hear the whine in my voice, but let me tell you - it's there), I'm too BUSY with watching Sherlock all the time and looking at FLOOR TILES.
Also, I couldn't upload it on my last post but here's a picture of the display what I made at wurk. I am ludicrously pleased with it, but it did take me A MILLION YEARS:
Aaaaaaaaaarrrggghhhhhhh! Too scary! Try to be brave though. This took me so long to make, I actually lost interest and covered the whole thing in black paper, and wrote 'COMING SOON' in scary, blood-dripping letters until I could be bothered again. I told my boss it was 'to build suspense', and I think he believed me. Tee hee!
Also fellas, Husband and I braved the shops to price more flooring (you might want to take a break at this point to let your heart settle down after all the manic excitement that reading my blog must bring into your life. Brace yourselves lads, it's about to get EXTREME.) Anyway, we had a massive fight (in Ikea, obviously, because no-one has ever left Ikea without having a fight with SOMEBODY) because Husband was all 'Make a decision about the lights in the kitchen!' and I was all 'THESE LIGHTS!' and Husband was all 'I don't like those ones' in a really huffy voice, and I nearly stabbed him with a Helmsblug Potato Peeler. So, we left Ikea sharpish and found ourselves in Next. And here's what happened:
Me: *wanderin' around, looking at stuff, minding my own business* Husband, I've got an itchy bit on my leg that I think might be A HORRIBLE DISEASE......
Woman Next to Me Who is Not Husband: Em......
*massive embarrassed silence*
*woman looks at my leg*
*I miserably look at my leg too*
*woman looks faintly disgusted*
*I nod sadly and am FURIOUS with Husband for wandering away and getting me into this awkward situation*
*woman shudders and walks off*
*I slope away to find Husband, who is standing, awestruck, in the lighting section*
Me: HUSBAND YOU WEREN'T EVEN THE LADY WHO WAS STANDING NEXT TO ME! SHE WAS SOMEBODY DIFFERENT! YOU MADE ME SPEAK TO A STRANGER! THEY MAKE VIDEOS WARNING CHILDREN ABOUT THAT!
Husband: *in a breathless whisper* ...look....
Me: WHA.......oh..........OH!
OH YES IT'S A LAMP SHAPED LIKE A TELEPHONE BOX AND IT'S MADE OUR HOME COMPLETE!
So, you know how sometimes I'm all 'I will FINISH all the things before starting MOAR of the things!' and other times I'm all 'Start moar! Start moar things! Finish none of the things!' Well, just now I'm in the Starty phase, not good at all.
Anyway, after completely abandoning THAT I moved on with THIS:
Also, I couldn't upload it on my last post but here's a picture of the display what I made at wurk. I am ludicrously pleased with it, but it did take me A MILLION YEARS:
Also fellas, Husband and I braved the shops to price more flooring (you might want to take a break at this point to let your heart settle down after all the manic excitement that reading my blog must bring into your life. Brace yourselves lads, it's about to get EXTREME.) Anyway, we had a massive fight (in Ikea, obviously, because no-one has ever left Ikea without having a fight with SOMEBODY) because Husband was all 'Make a decision about the lights in the kitchen!' and I was all 'THESE LIGHTS!' and Husband was all 'I don't like those ones' in a really huffy voice, and I nearly stabbed him with a Helmsblug Potato Peeler. So, we left Ikea sharpish and found ourselves in Next. And here's what happened:
Me: *wanderin' around, looking at stuff, minding my own business* Husband, I've got an itchy bit on my leg that I think might be A HORRIBLE DISEASE......
Woman Next to Me Who is Not Husband: Em......
*massive embarrassed silence*
*woman looks at my leg*
*I miserably look at my leg too*
*woman looks faintly disgusted*
*I nod sadly and am FURIOUS with Husband for wandering away and getting me into this awkward situation*
*woman shudders and walks off*
*I slope away to find Husband, who is standing, awestruck, in the lighting section*
Me: HUSBAND YOU WEREN'T EVEN THE LADY WHO WAS STANDING NEXT TO ME! SHE WAS SOMEBODY DIFFERENT! YOU MADE ME SPEAK TO A STRANGER! THEY MAKE VIDEOS WARNING CHILDREN ABOUT THAT!
Husband: *in a breathless whisper* ...look....
Me: WHA.......oh..........OH!
Thursday 20 September 2012
The One With No Pictures
I can't upload pictures on the computer I'm using just now, so instead I'll be doing 'complex descriptions' which is probably what they used before pictures were invented anyway and everyone got on ok THEN (note the perfectly logical arguement I've engaged there).
Oh, I have done so many lovely things this week! Last night I went to see Anna Karenina at the flicks and it was...and I don't want to exaggerate here.....THE BEST THING IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WOLRD EVER EVER EVER! I'm not a huge fan of Keira Knightly's work but she was just BORN to play Anna, she's the perfect mix of dutiful wife and RAUNCHY SEXPOT and I now love her with my entire face. Go and see it right now, stop what you're doing, leave work, leave home, go and watch it. Then come back and tell me how much you liked it.
Like I said, no pictures, so here's some instructions so you can conjure a strong mental image of Keira Knightly as Anna Karenina:
*IMAGINE THE MOST PERFECT THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD*
Oh, this is much easier than I thought it was going to be.
Right, NEXT!
I ordered the Sherlock box-set for me and Husband to watch of an evening. I know I'm so late to this, but is Sherlock not just THE BEST THING YOU'VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE? It's so good, I don't understand why they don't make it illegal not to watch it. Bennedict Cumberbatch IS Sherlock Holmes, he literally IS Sherlock. Martin Freeman IS Dr. Watson. 221B Baker Street is EXACTLY how I want Bumbaleerie Mansions to look. Here's a picture of it:
*Awesome things like a stuffed owl and mismatched chairs and dodgy wallpaper and union jack cushions and glass decanters and books everywhere*
Also, I have ordered a new dress pattern, which is quite funny (funny if you're NOT Husband) because I still haven't ever finished a dress despite having several thousand million patterns. But I couldn't resist this one, I've been looking for a 40s style dress for AGES and I couldn't find one that I liked enough (clothes are getting really dear aren't they? Even in like, ASDA and Tesco and that) and then I 'stumbled' (ebay) upon this magnificent pattern:
*Butterick 40s Style Dress Pattern, which I'm going to make in a Royal Blue colour and maybe white piping, if I can work out how to do that*
Isn't it lovely?
Also, at work I built a giant, open Vampire's mouth for a Halloween Display, try to be brave here:
*picture of scary, open jaws of a Vampire, eeeeeeeeekk!*
How's your week been?
Oh, I have done so many lovely things this week! Last night I went to see Anna Karenina at the flicks and it was...and I don't want to exaggerate here.....THE BEST THING IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WOLRD EVER EVER EVER! I'm not a huge fan of Keira Knightly's work but she was just BORN to play Anna, she's the perfect mix of dutiful wife and RAUNCHY SEXPOT and I now love her with my entire face. Go and see it right now, stop what you're doing, leave work, leave home, go and watch it. Then come back and tell me how much you liked it.
Like I said, no pictures, so here's some instructions so you can conjure a strong mental image of Keira Knightly as Anna Karenina:
*IMAGINE THE MOST PERFECT THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD*
Oh, this is much easier than I thought it was going to be.
Right, NEXT!
I ordered the Sherlock box-set for me and Husband to watch of an evening. I know I'm so late to this, but is Sherlock not just THE BEST THING YOU'VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE? It's so good, I don't understand why they don't make it illegal not to watch it. Bennedict Cumberbatch IS Sherlock Holmes, he literally IS Sherlock. Martin Freeman IS Dr. Watson. 221B Baker Street is EXACTLY how I want Bumbaleerie Mansions to look. Here's a picture of it:
*Awesome things like a stuffed owl and mismatched chairs and dodgy wallpaper and union jack cushions and glass decanters and books everywhere*
Also, I have ordered a new dress pattern, which is quite funny (funny if you're NOT Husband) because I still haven't ever finished a dress despite having several thousand million patterns. But I couldn't resist this one, I've been looking for a 40s style dress for AGES and I couldn't find one that I liked enough (clothes are getting really dear aren't they? Even in like, ASDA and Tesco and that) and then I 'stumbled' (ebay) upon this magnificent pattern:
*Butterick 40s Style Dress Pattern, which I'm going to make in a Royal Blue colour and maybe white piping, if I can work out how to do that*
Isn't it lovely?
Also, at work I built a giant, open Vampire's mouth for a Halloween Display, try to be brave here:
*picture of scary, open jaws of a Vampire, eeeeeeeeekk!*
How's your week been?
Saturday 15 September 2012
The One Where I Learn About Myself
Further to my 'Turning Twenty-Seven and Hating It' list of resolutions here, I thought I'd add a wee bit on 'What I've Learned About Myself Recently'. Sorry for being so self-absorbed. Maybe soon I'll do a post on a worthy cause and you'll all be like 'oh, what a caring person she is! She's taken time away from fretting about her frankly APPALLING eyebrows to care about this caring cause that needs caring about. She is so caring. Caring is the word I would use to describe her.' and I'll be all humble and all 'Thanks lads, but really, we should all care more about (enter cause here)' and we'll all agree and shake on it.
But until then, here's my new list:
1. MY HAIR - I honestly think that people with curly hair should get some kind of government-sponsored help. Curly hair costs an absolute fortune to keep in reasonable condition, and I'm not even talking about the obscene cost of getting a decent hairdresser to cut it. No, I'm talking about the general, day-to-day stylin' costs. A few years ago, Sunsilk did this serum-y time styling gel that cost about a Scottish Buck and lasted for a million years and then they stopped making it. But I was young and naive, and I thought 'Oh, I'll try some other junk'. That was about five years ago and I still haven't got over it. Nothing is as good, NOTHING. But I was just about keeping it in check with Pantene's Perfect Curl shampoop (tee hee) and conditioner. And guess what fellas? They've stopped making that too. I've been resorted to buying it on ebay for a hugely inflated sum. Anyway, here's what I've learned about my hair this week: ANYTHING OTHER THAN PERFECT CURL MAKES MY HAIR GO RUBBISH. I've tried eighty-two different shampeeps and conditioniis (which I THINK is the plural for both of those words) and nothing is as good.
2. PATIENCE - Lads, I've always thought of myself as a really impatient person and this week I have realised that I am not just really impatient, I am VERY REALLY IMPATIENT. Especially with computers. I feel like I spend my whole life waiting for pages to load, and I'm aging horribly because of it.
3. TIDYING - I hate tidying because I like stuff, as I've admitted before. But today I realised I not only hate tidying, I am also rubbish at it. Here's a BEFORE picture of the bookcase in the kitchen:
and here's a picture of it after I spent AN HOUR AND A HALF tidying it:
I know you're thinking 'it does look a bit tidier though' and to that I reply: this took me AN HOUR AND A HALF. How? Dunno.
4. SONGS - So, I was driving along it my automobile (Blue Polo, don't have a name for it because I hate nothing more than people saying 'yous' and also people who name their cars), happy as Larry G. Laughtinton, singing along to the radio - Dirrty by Christina Aguilera - and I realised I knew all the words to it, which made me happy. Then it finished, and Yesterday by the Beatles kicked in and I was all 'Yey, I know this one too!' singing away, then IT finished and Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep rocked out. And I was singing along to that, when I suddenly became aware of a creeping sense of dread. I knew all the words to that too. And I thought, I know all the words to A LOT of songs, even fast ones like La Bamba and rubbish ones like Mr. Boombastic and surely that's not normal. And then I tried to remember my home telephone number, and I COULDN'T! And then I thought, what if I get kidnapped?! How will I contact Husband?! I don't even know my own phone number! But then I realised, if I do get kidnapped, I'll just bellow Mr. Boombastic to them and they'll release me pretty sharpish. But still, what else has been pushed out of my brain to make way for the lyrical stylin' of Ricky Martin et al?!
These are not favourable qualities old beans, not favourable at all. Is it too late to change my entire self?
But until then, here's my new list:
1. MY HAIR - I honestly think that people with curly hair should get some kind of government-sponsored help. Curly hair costs an absolute fortune to keep in reasonable condition, and I'm not even talking about the obscene cost of getting a decent hairdresser to cut it. No, I'm talking about the general, day-to-day stylin' costs. A few years ago, Sunsilk did this serum-y time styling gel that cost about a Scottish Buck and lasted for a million years and then they stopped making it. But I was young and naive, and I thought 'Oh, I'll try some other junk'. That was about five years ago and I still haven't got over it. Nothing is as good, NOTHING. But I was just about keeping it in check with Pantene's Perfect Curl shampoop (tee hee) and conditioner. And guess what fellas? They've stopped making that too. I've been resorted to buying it on ebay for a hugely inflated sum. Anyway, here's what I've learned about my hair this week: ANYTHING OTHER THAN PERFECT CURL MAKES MY HAIR GO RUBBISH. I've tried eighty-two different shampeeps and conditioniis (which I THINK is the plural for both of those words) and nothing is as good.
2. PATIENCE - Lads, I've always thought of myself as a really impatient person and this week I have realised that I am not just really impatient, I am VERY REALLY IMPATIENT. Especially with computers. I feel like I spend my whole life waiting for pages to load, and I'm aging horribly because of it.
3. TIDYING - I hate tidying because I like stuff, as I've admitted before. But today I realised I not only hate tidying, I am also rubbish at it. Here's a BEFORE picture of the bookcase in the kitchen:
and here's a picture of it after I spent AN HOUR AND A HALF tidying it:
4. SONGS - So, I was driving along it my automobile (Blue Polo, don't have a name for it because I hate nothing more than people saying 'yous' and also people who name their cars), happy as Larry G. Laughtinton, singing along to the radio - Dirrty by Christina Aguilera - and I realised I knew all the words to it, which made me happy. Then it finished, and Yesterday by the Beatles kicked in and I was all 'Yey, I know this one too!' singing away, then IT finished and Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep rocked out. And I was singing along to that, when I suddenly became aware of a creeping sense of dread. I knew all the words to that too. And I thought, I know all the words to A LOT of songs, even fast ones like La Bamba and rubbish ones like Mr. Boombastic and surely that's not normal. And then I tried to remember my home telephone number, and I COULDN'T! And then I thought, what if I get kidnapped?! How will I contact Husband?! I don't even know my own phone number! But then I realised, if I do get kidnapped, I'll just bellow Mr. Boombastic to them and they'll release me pretty sharpish. But still, what else has been pushed out of my brain to make way for the lyrical stylin' of Ricky Martin et al?!
These are not favourable qualities old beans, not favourable at all. Is it too late to change my entire self?
Saturday 8 September 2012
Saturday
Evening, fellas!
I have commented before on the work we're doing in Bumbaleerie Mansions - mainly painting SLASH decorating and it is the opposite of fun. Anyway, we're needing a kitchen floor. Bumbaleerie Kitchens is quite big so we're needing quite a bit of floor. And we've been putting it off for ages, because Husband hates nothing more, NOTHING, you understand, MORE than salesmen. He hates that no matter how many times you say 'we're just looking, fanks' they still insist on telling you all this junk - like, how many colours the tiles come in, how they can be fitted, how they'll look upside down, but NEVER THE PRICE.
So, we need carpet for two rooms, walnut floor for the hall (YAAAASS!) and slate tiles for the kitchen. Easy.
First shop: Salesman sidles over, catches us unawares. Husband was looking at prices and sizes, I was seeing how far my fingers sunk into the fibers. 'HOW CAN I HELP YOUS?!' bellowed the saleschap. (DIVERSION: I hate nothing more, NOTHING MORE, than people saying 'yous' (as in the plural of 'you', I'm assuming). It's NOT A REAL WORD)) So Husband was already twitching, and even though my nerves were jangling, I managed to say 'WE'RE JUST LOOKING FANKS' (WJLF). And Husband and I looked back at the carpet.
'Righto!' said the cheery one. 'Well, just so you know, we've got a special offer on blah blah words words selling carpet blah blah more talking...' and so on for FOUR MILLION YEARS. Eventually, we muttered something about maybe wanting laminate or learning to fly so it wouldn't matter what we were standing on, and glumly walked hand-in-hand to the door (me and Husband, not me and Husband and Salesfella)
'I don't even want to do this any more' whined Husband once we were back in the safety of the car. I rubbed his hand soothingly.
Second shop: Started well! We found loads of offcuts that were big enough for our rooms, nice nice. And we were congratulating each other on not having to speak to anyone when we came across a salesboy hiding between the rolls of carpet. Hiding. Between the rolls. Of carpet. Husband said later, it was like a praying mantis waits for prey.
'Hellooooooo! Can I help yous?'
'WJLF'
'OK-doke, what is it yous are looking for today?'
Small silence. 'Carpets. That's why we're in a carpet shop'
'And do yous know what colour it is yous are looking for?'
...it was at this point that I held my hands over my ears and started shrieking. My nerves cannot cope with repeated uses of 'yous'. I'm like Mrs Bennett with my nerves (wee Pride and Prej ref there).
EXIT STAGE LEFT.
Third shop: A saleslady! I was so pleased to see her, I started to weep over her polyester skirt. But! My relief was short lived. She was one of THEM. But, a bit more mental and scary. She curled her lip at me, did a quick up-and-down of my outfit, grimaced at Husband and barked 'How may I help yous today?' Husband looked at me mournfully. So, I took the bull by the horns and said 'Do you have a toilet I can use?' The salescow recoiled (I don't know why, I wasn't going to pee on her. Maybe I looked like I was though), and said 'Our toilets are for customers ONLY. Are yous interested in flooring?' 'NOPE!' I bellowed joyfully, 'WE'LL JUST BE OFF THEN!' And we were off.
But that means that we've still no carpets/wood/tiles.
So, to make today not a total wash out, I made some foccacia or maybe focaccia or even foccaccia. Here's some pics:
And the finished product, complete with garlic oil, chili oil and the ol' balsamic:
Go and buy Paul Hollywood's book, it's so easy and delicious and the money will help him continue to be a Silver PHOX!
I have commented before on the work we're doing in Bumbaleerie Mansions - mainly painting SLASH decorating and it is the opposite of fun. Anyway, we're needing a kitchen floor. Bumbaleerie Kitchens is quite big so we're needing quite a bit of floor. And we've been putting it off for ages, because Husband hates nothing more, NOTHING, you understand, MORE than salesmen. He hates that no matter how many times you say 'we're just looking, fanks' they still insist on telling you all this junk - like, how many colours the tiles come in, how they can be fitted, how they'll look upside down, but NEVER THE PRICE.
So, we need carpet for two rooms, walnut floor for the hall (YAAAASS!) and slate tiles for the kitchen. Easy.
First shop: Salesman sidles over, catches us unawares. Husband was looking at prices and sizes, I was seeing how far my fingers sunk into the fibers. 'HOW CAN I HELP YOUS?!' bellowed the saleschap. (DIVERSION: I hate nothing more, NOTHING MORE, than people saying 'yous' (as in the plural of 'you', I'm assuming). It's NOT A REAL WORD)) So Husband was already twitching, and even though my nerves were jangling, I managed to say 'WE'RE JUST LOOKING FANKS' (WJLF). And Husband and I looked back at the carpet.
'Righto!' said the cheery one. 'Well, just so you know, we've got a special offer on blah blah words words selling carpet blah blah more talking...' and so on for FOUR MILLION YEARS. Eventually, we muttered something about maybe wanting laminate or learning to fly so it wouldn't matter what we were standing on, and glumly walked hand-in-hand to the door (me and Husband, not me and Husband and Salesfella)
'I don't even want to do this any more' whined Husband once we were back in the safety of the car. I rubbed his hand soothingly.
Second shop: Started well! We found loads of offcuts that were big enough for our rooms, nice nice. And we were congratulating each other on not having to speak to anyone when we came across a salesboy hiding between the rolls of carpet. Hiding. Between the rolls. Of carpet. Husband said later, it was like a praying mantis waits for prey.
'Hellooooooo! Can I help yous?'
'WJLF'
'OK-doke, what is it yous are looking for today?'
Small silence. 'Carpets. That's why we're in a carpet shop'
'And do yous know what colour it is yous are looking for?'
...it was at this point that I held my hands over my ears and started shrieking. My nerves cannot cope with repeated uses of 'yous'. I'm like Mrs Bennett with my nerves (wee Pride and Prej ref there).
EXIT STAGE LEFT.
Third shop: A saleslady! I was so pleased to see her, I started to weep over her polyester skirt. But! My relief was short lived. She was one of THEM. But, a bit more mental and scary. She curled her lip at me, did a quick up-and-down of my outfit, grimaced at Husband and barked 'How may I help yous today?' Husband looked at me mournfully. So, I took the bull by the horns and said 'Do you have a toilet I can use?' The salescow recoiled (I don't know why, I wasn't going to pee on her. Maybe I looked like I was though), and said 'Our toilets are for customers ONLY. Are yous interested in flooring?' 'NOPE!' I bellowed joyfully, 'WE'LL JUST BE OFF THEN!' And we were off.
But that means that we've still no carpets/wood/tiles.
So, to make today not a total wash out, I made some foccacia or maybe focaccia or even foccaccia. Here's some pics:
 |
| Me kneading. |
 | ||
| Me sick of kneading, the dough's WELL sticky |
 |
| Me developing the 'Bumbaleerie Method' of kneading. Much more nice. |
 |
| In the oven. Exciting, isn't it? |
And the finished product, complete with garlic oil, chili oil and the ol' balsamic:
Wednesday 5 September 2012
And TIME..goes by... so SLOWELEEY...and TIME...can do SO-O-O MUCH
Lads! It's been ages! How have you been?
I've been well.com and that is the truth. Lots of changes going on in Bumbaleerie Mansions, too many to list old chums. But, I love a good ol' list so let's just do it anyhoo:
1. The STAMP CANVAS is DONE! Yes, the great stamp artwork of 2014 is finished two whole years early. How'z THAT for organisation? Here's a picture of same:
Close up:
And the grand unveiling (complete with Honoured Guest)
It is currently leaning against the wall that it will eventually be hung upon, as soon as Husband's drill is 'fixed' (it was fixed ages ago, he thinks I don't know. Nag nag nag).
Anyhoo, that's the canvas finito. It took a billion years to do, I had to neatly trim all the stamps before gluing them really carefully in position. It took a lot of patience (wine) and calm meditation (more wine) and actually, it became quite therapeutic (false, it was a pain in the bumbaleerie, but once I'd started I felt I had to see it to the end)
2. I made a lot of quilts, one to sell and one as a present. The selling one:
(Notice the sinister presence of the iron)
and the present, for my cousin's daughter:
I love Michael Miller fabric, it is the BAWZ.
3. My sister got me the Paul Hollywood baking book for my birthday and I made the basic bread recipe and it was amazingly easy and deli-licious. So I can add 'bread making' to my list of ...em...listing. I did have a picture but I have accidentally deleted it, so just use your imagination to think of 'a loaf of bread'. Tasty lookin' isn't it?
Ok, that's only three things that've been happening so didn't really warrant a list. Oct well.
I've been well.com and that is the truth. Lots of changes going on in Bumbaleerie Mansions, too many to list old chums. But, I love a good ol' list so let's just do it anyhoo:
1. The STAMP CANVAS is DONE! Yes, the great stamp artwork of 2014 is finished two whole years early. How'z THAT for organisation? Here's a picture of same:
Anyhoo, that's the canvas finito. It took a billion years to do, I had to neatly trim all the stamps before gluing them really carefully in position. It took a lot of patience (wine) and calm meditation (more wine) and actually, it became quite therapeutic (false, it was a pain in the bumbaleerie, but once I'd started I felt I had to see it to the end)
2. I made a lot of quilts, one to sell and one as a present. The selling one:
and the present, for my cousin's daughter:
I love Michael Miller fabric, it is the BAWZ.
3. My sister got me the Paul Hollywood baking book for my birthday and I made the basic bread recipe and it was amazingly easy and deli-licious. So I can add 'bread making' to my list of ...em...listing. I did have a picture but I have accidentally deleted it, so just use your imagination to think of 'a loaf of bread'. Tasty lookin' isn't it?
Ok, that's only three things that've been happening so didn't really warrant a list. Oct well.
Tuesday 14 August 2012
The One Where I Turn Twenty-Seven gaaaaaaahhh
It's been a long time Chinas, a long old time. I've been too busy to blog, what with turning 27 and all. The English graduate in me is desperate to turn that 27 into a twenty-seven but time is pressing on us, Old Beans, and I'm not writing twenty-seven every time, so I'll just leave it as 27.
So I woke up on the eve of my 27th birthday and was all 'oh man, this sucks. My last day as a 26 year old OR, as I pronounce it, 'nineteen'. Woe is me, for it is rubbish to be nearly 27, probably as bad as actually BEING 27.' And then to celebrate my last day as a 26 year old, I did some lovely things like not running and eating Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Port Salut on oatcakes with chutney and WINE and it was good.
And then I woke up on my 27th birthday and I thought 'HOW CAN I BE TWENTY-FECKING-SEVEN?! I'm still deciding what to do when I leave school! I'm still always thinking 'I'll wear shoes like THAT when I'm a grown up'! I'm still going to the shop regularly to buy pick n mixes! I hate mortgages! But the truth of it is Chinas, I'm a 27 year-old married Librarian with a mortgage and a job and everything. And I'm no longer nineteen, and I can no longer dream of being an astronaut, and I can no longer drink with wild abandon because hangovers now last about a fortnight.
But then I had a flash of inspiration. 'Why not, WHY NOT', I thought to myself 'see this as a chance to do everything you've ever wanted to do and BE everything you've ever wanted TO BE? Why not make your 28th year (gaaaaaahh) the YEAR OF OPPERCHANCITY?
So I'm going to! I've made a list of resolutions that I'm going to share with you, but FIRST! A picture of me with my present from my brother (Calpol):
OH YES LADS THAT'S ME WITH BETTY! Is that the best present anyone has ever given anyone?! Answer: yes. I love her with my whole soul and Husband HATES her, although she freaks out the cats which Husband finds very funny. I said we should bow every time we walk past her and Husband refused, and that's very disrespectful to her Maj and she'll be WELL annoyed if he ever does that in real life. He'll be in the Tower before he knows WHERE he is, and I won't visit him because I'll be having crumpets at Buck Pal.
Anyway, RESOLUTIONS:
1. START SELLING 'CRAP WHAT I'VE MADE', because I've been talking about doing it for ages but then what if nobody buys it?
2. GET GOOD AT RUNNING - I can now run my full circuit without stopping, here's a picture of me after I did it for the first time ever:
3. STOP READING HEAT MAGAZINE AND TRY TO STOP CARING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS IN TOWIE - pretty self-explanatory, this one.
4. HAVE A KEBAB - never had one before and I think I would like it.
5. TRY A DEEP-FRIED MARS BAR - never had one before because I know I would love it, and eat them FOREVAH and then turn into one of those people who gets so fat that they grow into their couch.
6. WEAR ALL THE SHOES - or sell all the shoes if not worn.
7. PICK UP A MASSIVE SPIDER - maybe.
8. BE A BIT MORE SENSIBLE - I'm not really a sensible sort of person. I'm more of a 'LET'S MAKE A LOL-CANO!' than a 'Yars, well, interest rates being what they are...' and I think I should maybe try to get somewhere in the middle.
9. TAKE MY MAKE-UP OFF BEFORE BED - I know this is really jakey (JAKE - Scottish word meaning unclean, dirty person who is usually drunk and/or stoned) but I hate washing my face in the sink, and I'm not having two showers a day, and my make-up removing pads live downstairs and I can never be bothered to go down and get them and I just generally am rubbish at taking my make-up off and that's that.
10. DYE MY HAIR BLONDE - DONE! Did it last week! Not sure if I like it though.
11. TRY TO LOVE MY EYEBROWS - very unlikely, this one, but I will try.
And that's THAT!
So I woke up on the eve of my 27th birthday and was all 'oh man, this sucks. My last day as a 26 year old OR, as I pronounce it, 'nineteen'. Woe is me, for it is rubbish to be nearly 27, probably as bad as actually BEING 27.' And then to celebrate my last day as a 26 year old, I did some lovely things like not running and eating Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Port Salut on oatcakes with chutney and WINE and it was good.
And then I woke up on my 27th birthday and I thought 'HOW CAN I BE TWENTY-FECKING-SEVEN?! I'm still deciding what to do when I leave school! I'm still always thinking 'I'll wear shoes like THAT when I'm a grown up'! I'm still going to the shop regularly to buy pick n mixes! I hate mortgages! But the truth of it is Chinas, I'm a 27 year-old married Librarian with a mortgage and a job and everything. And I'm no longer nineteen, and I can no longer dream of being an astronaut, and I can no longer drink with wild abandon because hangovers now last about a fortnight.
But then I had a flash of inspiration. 'Why not, WHY NOT', I thought to myself 'see this as a chance to do everything you've ever wanted to do and BE everything you've ever wanted TO BE? Why not make your 28th year (gaaaaaahh) the YEAR OF OPPERCHANCITY?
So I'm going to! I've made a list of resolutions that I'm going to share with you, but FIRST! A picture of me with my present from my brother (Calpol):
Anyway, RESOLUTIONS:
1. START SELLING 'CRAP WHAT I'VE MADE', because I've been talking about doing it for ages but then what if nobody buys it?
2. GET GOOD AT RUNNING - I can now run my full circuit without stopping, here's a picture of me after I did it for the first time ever:
(I promise this is really me and not Usain Bolt, however similar we may look)
3. STOP READING HEAT MAGAZINE AND TRY TO STOP CARING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS IN TOWIE - pretty self-explanatory, this one.
4. HAVE A KEBAB - never had one before and I think I would like it.
5. TRY A DEEP-FRIED MARS BAR - never had one before because I know I would love it, and eat them FOREVAH and then turn into one of those people who gets so fat that they grow into their couch.
6. WEAR ALL THE SHOES - or sell all the shoes if not worn.
7. PICK UP A MASSIVE SPIDER - maybe.
8. BE A BIT MORE SENSIBLE - I'm not really a sensible sort of person. I'm more of a 'LET'S MAKE A LOL-CANO!' than a 'Yars, well, interest rates being what they are...' and I think I should maybe try to get somewhere in the middle.
9. TAKE MY MAKE-UP OFF BEFORE BED - I know this is really jakey (JAKE - Scottish word meaning unclean, dirty person who is usually drunk and/or stoned) but I hate washing my face in the sink, and I'm not having two showers a day, and my make-up removing pads live downstairs and I can never be bothered to go down and get them and I just generally am rubbish at taking my make-up off and that's that.
10. DYE MY HAIR BLONDE - DONE! Did it last week! Not sure if I like it though.
11. TRY TO LOVE MY EYEBROWS - very unlikely, this one, but I will try.
And that's THAT!
Thursday 2 August 2012
A Bit of Finishing
Ta daah!
Finished! Here's a picture of it next to my hand, so you get some idea of how teeny-tiny it is:
I was going to do a picture of my hand next to a penny or something so you could get some idea of the size of my hand, but I thought no, that's mental. Anyhoo, I think I'm going to do a wee pile of these bad boys and send them off to charity. I was going to try and get the stupid cat to wear it, but he was all 'you are out of your mind if you think I'm wearing that'. He is very selfish.
It's very good to finish something though, I've been very smug about it. I got into a bit of a trance with it, and just shuffled around bleary-eyed going 'MUST. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH.' I was trying to neaten up the collar when the window cleaner came to the door and made me lose count. Oh, I was FURIOUS. Although in retrospect, I did feel a bit sorry for him. It cannot be pleasant to be greeted at a door by a glaring pajama-clad lady with an afro and mad eyebrows, brandishing a knitting needle. Especially when that lady is hissing 'Do YOU KNOW how many STITCHES are on HERE? Me neither, THANKS TO YOU! WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT WINDOWS? I'VE NOT EVEN GOT ANY WINDOWS!' But we're probably friends again. I wonder if he needs a jumper knitted? Hmm.
Today I had some folk round to the crib, chillaxin' an that, and someone brought through my fabric stash for a rake. And I was shamed, SHAMED, for how much l'oeufly fabric I've got just sitting around. So I decided to do a bit of fabric-y making too:
and ended up with:
unt a close-up:
...but it's still not quite right. I'm going to have a fiddle with it and see if I can't neaten it up a smidge. I'm still very new to sewing and I don't seem to be getting any better at it. And I HATE that. I don't want to learn stuff, I want to be immediately good at it. So every time the thread knots or the fabric bunches, or the bobbin runs out, I throw a massive tantrum and phone Len in tears.
It's not a very relaxing hobby, this one.
It's very good to finish something though, I've been very smug about it. I got into a bit of a trance with it, and just shuffled around bleary-eyed going 'MUST. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH.' I was trying to neaten up the collar when the window cleaner came to the door and made me lose count. Oh, I was FURIOUS. Although in retrospect, I did feel a bit sorry for him. It cannot be pleasant to be greeted at a door by a glaring pajama-clad lady with an afro and mad eyebrows, brandishing a knitting needle. Especially when that lady is hissing 'Do YOU KNOW how many STITCHES are on HERE? Me neither, THANKS TO YOU! WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT WINDOWS? I'VE NOT EVEN GOT ANY WINDOWS!' But we're probably friends again. I wonder if he needs a jumper knitted? Hmm.
Today I had some folk round to the crib, chillaxin' an that, and someone brought through my fabric stash for a rake. And I was shamed, SHAMED, for how much l'oeufly fabric I've got just sitting around. So I decided to do a bit of fabric-y making too:
It's not a very relaxing hobby, this one.
Monday 30 July 2012
Finish ALL the things?
Hello chaps. It might surprise you to learn that I am not a particularly organised person. It's partly because I like STUFF and partly because of my criminally short attention span. So, I look at my massive pile of STUFF and think, Right! I iz organises! I iz puttin' that THERE! I iz now putting that thing THERE! I iz now bored, and am wandering off in search of something else to do.
And this short attention span sadly is reflected in the making. So I come home from a lovely day shopping and I'm all 'Husband! Look at this mad fabric! I'm going to make an apron with it and put it on ebay and it'll sell for a million pounds and then we'll be RICH and then we can give up working for evah! But first, I'm going to wander over here for a bit and play with the cat.' So, as a result, I've got a stash of fabric that would make John Lewis HIMSELF weep. And also, loads of unfinished knitting hiding behind things. And, even though I've got a hundred million appropriate knitting holders, for some reason I always put my knitting in plastic carrier bags. So, as I type this, there's a massive accessorize bag behind the cuddler which is hiding Husband's unfinished jumper.
See, I had this brilliant idea of knitting husband a jumper because I'd knitted LOADS of baby jumpers for friends and I thought, oh Husband would just LOVE a jumper made by the delicate hands of his magnificent wife. So I bought all the wool - lovely, Sirdar, tweedy-type, blue and gray, goes very well with the eyes of Husband - and a easy pattern, and new pins and got STARTED! And at first I was all 'CLACKITY-CLACK oh KNITTY KNITTY taptaptaptap happy happy lalalala, knitting away...' and then I realised I'd been knitting for A THOUSAND YEARS and the jumper was barely even three inches of stocking-stitch. And THAT is when I realised that Husband is much, much bigger than the average child. He's properly a GIANT compared to the average baby. So logically, his jumper will take much, much longer to knit. And I started to resent him for it. I would be all knitting away, glaring at Husband every so often and thinking 'Look at him, sitting there, probably growing BY THE SECOND and I've got to knit this huge stupid GIGANTIC jumper that'll take a MILLION YEARS. Probably the SLEEVES will take A HUNDRED YEARS each and he won't even LIKE it by then.' And Husband would look up at me and blow me a kiss and I would smile tightly back at him. And then I stopped knitting it, and hid it behind the cuddler. It's probably a bit dusty by now, actually.
Anyway, that was a massive diversion but here is THE POINT. I have made a pledge to finish the things before starting the new things. I thought I'd start with a jumper that I had promised to a friend's baby. The baby will be three in January, so the jumper will be much, much too small. But! I thought, I'll crack into that. So I was looking for it, and instead found a million other unfinished things including a teeny tiny jumper that I'd started when I was round vistin' Len and Roy. I was all bored and sloping round their house, and I said to Len 'I've forgotten my knitting, and that's what I'd like to do just now' and she was all 'I've got spare wool and an easy baby pattern if you fancy that?' and I was all 'HELZ TO THE YEZ LEN GOODMAN!' so I started it. And then I got home and abandoned it. And then I found it and STARTED IT AGAIN. And I'm nearly done. Here's how it looked when I found it:
And here's how it looks now:
GETTING THERE! Don't ask me what I'm going to do with it, I have no idea. Sometimes hospitals need things for premature babies, don't they? I might send it to them although they might send it back because it's a bit wonky. I'll think about it.
P.S. Husband just came up behind me and pointed at the screen (quite accusingly, I thought) and said 'Yes! I remember that jumper! Get it finished!' I probably will never, ever finish that jumper so I just pretended to be French until he went away. Which worked, actually.
P.P.S. I think I've broken the Curse of the Unlucky Pajoojes. Nothing bad happened when I wore them, and nothing bad has happened since. Phew!
And this short attention span sadly is reflected in the making. So I come home from a lovely day shopping and I'm all 'Husband! Look at this mad fabric! I'm going to make an apron with it and put it on ebay and it'll sell for a million pounds and then we'll be RICH and then we can give up working for evah! But first, I'm going to wander over here for a bit and play with the cat.' So, as a result, I've got a stash of fabric that would make John Lewis HIMSELF weep. And also, loads of unfinished knitting hiding behind things. And, even though I've got a hundred million appropriate knitting holders, for some reason I always put my knitting in plastic carrier bags. So, as I type this, there's a massive accessorize bag behind the cuddler which is hiding Husband's unfinished jumper.
See, I had this brilliant idea of knitting husband a jumper because I'd knitted LOADS of baby jumpers for friends and I thought, oh Husband would just LOVE a jumper made by the delicate hands of his magnificent wife. So I bought all the wool - lovely, Sirdar, tweedy-type, blue and gray, goes very well with the eyes of Husband - and a easy pattern, and new pins and got STARTED! And at first I was all 'CLACKITY-CLACK oh KNITTY KNITTY taptaptaptap happy happy lalalala, knitting away...' and then I realised I'd been knitting for A THOUSAND YEARS and the jumper was barely even three inches of stocking-stitch. And THAT is when I realised that Husband is much, much bigger than the average child. He's properly a GIANT compared to the average baby. So logically, his jumper will take much, much longer to knit. And I started to resent him for it. I would be all knitting away, glaring at Husband every so often and thinking 'Look at him, sitting there, probably growing BY THE SECOND and I've got to knit this huge stupid GIGANTIC jumper that'll take a MILLION YEARS. Probably the SLEEVES will take A HUNDRED YEARS each and he won't even LIKE it by then.' And Husband would look up at me and blow me a kiss and I would smile tightly back at him. And then I stopped knitting it, and hid it behind the cuddler. It's probably a bit dusty by now, actually.
Anyway, that was a massive diversion but here is THE POINT. I have made a pledge to finish the things before starting the new things. I thought I'd start with a jumper that I had promised to a friend's baby. The baby will be three in January, so the jumper will be much, much too small. But! I thought, I'll crack into that. So I was looking for it, and instead found a million other unfinished things including a teeny tiny jumper that I'd started when I was round vistin' Len and Roy. I was all bored and sloping round their house, and I said to Len 'I've forgotten my knitting, and that's what I'd like to do just now' and she was all 'I've got spare wool and an easy baby pattern if you fancy that?' and I was all 'HELZ TO THE YEZ LEN GOODMAN!' so I started it. And then I got home and abandoned it. And then I found it and STARTED IT AGAIN. And I'm nearly done. Here's how it looked when I found it:
P.S. Husband just came up behind me and pointed at the screen (quite accusingly, I thought) and said 'Yes! I remember that jumper! Get it finished!' I probably will never, ever finish that jumper so I just pretended to be French until he went away. Which worked, actually.
P.P.S. I think I've broken the Curse of the Unlucky Pajoojes. Nothing bad happened when I wore them, and nothing bad has happened since. Phew!
Tuesday 24 July 2012
The Unlucky PJs
Hello. I have a grave topic to share with you today, Chinas. The Curse of the Unlucky PJs. Here they are: *WARNING! DON'T LOOK AT THEM IF YOU ARE WORRIED ABOUT BAD LUCK*
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'those don't look so bad!'. They are, my friends. THEY ARE. Here's a list of bad things that have happened whilst they have been adorning my person:
1. I wore them when I stayed over at my friend's house. My friend then moved to Singapore.
2. I was wearing them whilst skipping down the stairs in Bumbaleerie Mansions and I tripped over the stupid cat and broke my neck. Nearly.
3. Every time I wear them I spill wine on them. And let me tell you, no matter NO MATTER how hard you suck, you CANNOT get all the wine back out of them.
4. When I bought them, Husband and I got into a HUGE fight on the way home from the shops over how much I'd spent. Coincidence?
5. I was wearing them when I realised the tadpoles had been eaten.
There's more, but the above have probably shocked you too much for me to continue so I won't. But I trust you are suitably convinced that these PJs are unlucky.
But I'm trying to break their unluckiness. I'm away from the Bumbaleerie crib at the mo so I decided to bring them with me. I phoned Husband.
Me: Husband it's me.
Husband: Hello, light of my life! What are you...
Me: Let's forgo the Oxbridge pleasantries. I'm phoning with important information regarding the unlucky PJs. Do you think I should pack them and try to break the unluckiness? Or play it safe and wear some luckier peejoojes?
Husband: Well, I don't believe in Unlucky PJs so....
Me: That's ridiculous reasoning. I don't believe in Evil Mexican Vampire Goats, but we know THEY exist.
Husband: *silenced by this completely valid point, no matter what he says later*
Me: Yes. So should I take them? Or be safe?
Husband: You decide. Listen, I really do have to go back to work now.
Me: *huffy now* O-KAY-UH! I was just CHECKING-UH
So I've brought them. But I'm maybe cheating a bit, cos I've got another pair of pajayjays that I might wear if I decide that unluckiness is not something you can break. But I'm trying to be brave, so I might wear them. But then again, I might not.
IN OTHER NEWS: I've started making a new dress, YAAAS. I went to the Canary Islands and now my skin is peeling off. I lost four and a half pounds on holiday, and I don't know where it went (four and a half pounds in weight, not in Scottish Yen) and Husband lost three. How? Dunno. I have taught the unfriendly cat how to say please (FACT). I can now run almost my whole running route (just under four miles) without stopping. I found a lovely nail varnish topcoat that costs less than a pound (Scottish Deutsche Mark, not weight) and it makes nail varnish last for ONE HUNDRED YEARS. AND the Bumbaleerie Sweetpeas are BLOOMING!
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'those don't look so bad!'. They are, my friends. THEY ARE. Here's a list of bad things that have happened whilst they have been adorning my person:
1. I wore them when I stayed over at my friend's house. My friend then moved to Singapore.
2. I was wearing them whilst skipping down the stairs in Bumbaleerie Mansions and I tripped over the stupid cat and broke my neck. Nearly.
3. Every time I wear them I spill wine on them. And let me tell you, no matter NO MATTER how hard you suck, you CANNOT get all the wine back out of them.
4. When I bought them, Husband and I got into a HUGE fight on the way home from the shops over how much I'd spent. Coincidence?
5. I was wearing them when I realised the tadpoles had been eaten.
There's more, but the above have probably shocked you too much for me to continue so I won't. But I trust you are suitably convinced that these PJs are unlucky.
But I'm trying to break their unluckiness. I'm away from the Bumbaleerie crib at the mo so I decided to bring them with me. I phoned Husband.
Me: Husband it's me.
Husband: Hello, light of my life! What are you...
Me: Let's forgo the Oxbridge pleasantries. I'm phoning with important information regarding the unlucky PJs. Do you think I should pack them and try to break the unluckiness? Or play it safe and wear some luckier peejoojes?
Husband: Well, I don't believe in Unlucky PJs so....
Me: That's ridiculous reasoning. I don't believe in Evil Mexican Vampire Goats, but we know THEY exist.
Husband: *silenced by this completely valid point, no matter what he says later*
Me: Yes. So should I take them? Or be safe?
Husband: You decide. Listen, I really do have to go back to work now.
Me: *huffy now* O-KAY-UH! I was just CHECKING-UH
So I've brought them. But I'm maybe cheating a bit, cos I've got another pair of pajayjays that I might wear if I decide that unluckiness is not something you can break. But I'm trying to be brave, so I might wear them. But then again, I might not.
IN OTHER NEWS: I've started making a new dress, YAAAS. I went to the Canary Islands and now my skin is peeling off. I lost four and a half pounds on holiday, and I don't know where it went (four and a half pounds in weight, not in Scottish Yen) and Husband lost three. How? Dunno. I have taught the unfriendly cat how to say please (FACT). I can now run almost my whole running route (just under four miles) without stopping. I found a lovely nail varnish topcoat that costs less than a pound (Scottish Deutsche Mark, not weight) and it makes nail varnish last for ONE HUNDRED YEARS. AND the Bumbaleerie Sweetpeas are BLOOMING!
Monday 9 July 2012
It's fun to shop at the E.B.A.Y
Just one word, fellas: HOT PINK TREWS! Yaaass!
So for ages and ages I was all 'I'd really like a pair of hot pink kegs but I'm worried I'll look like a tool' and Husband always nodded and said 'Yes, that's absolutely what you would look like.' And we agreed, and did a special handshake and everything. So, you can imagine Husband's delight when he came home and I was wearing THESE bad boys! 'WHAT. AM. THOSE?!' he shrieked manfully. Husband's grammar tends to desert him when he's surprised. 'THESE AM MY NEW KEGS!' I yelled back in ecstatic delight. 'I LOVE THEM WITH MY ENTIRE FACE! Plus, I am thinking that hot pink is now a neutral because these fellas go with everything!' Husband was not as thrilled as you would expect, and started going on about money and other irrelevant whitterings so I just thought about my new trews until he was done. And then I said:
'I Got Them On Ebay!'
I Got Them (It) on Ebay, or as it shall now be known IGTOE (partly for speed, partly for megalolz) is a phrase that Husband hears a lot from me. It is normally in response to the question 'How much was (were) that (those) item (s)?' and tends to be followed by 'That's because no-one in their right mind would buy that (those) from an actual shop' but he is WRONG and also FALSE because I am totally the last person on this EARTH to start wearing brightly-coloured leg garments and I told him that and he said 'right then'. So I won.
Until we had this conversation:
Me: Husband, I'm going to invest in some rubber footwear. Rubber footwear is useful for many reasons and I have prepared a brief powerpoint presentation to highlight these reasons.
Husband: *wearily* Can you not just buy them without telling me the reasons?
Me: Probably, but I've prepared the powerpoint and everything now so.....
Husband: Can you summerise the reasons?
Me: If y'like. ONE - They are waterproof, so extremely handy for gardening and also living in Scotland. TWO - They are comfortable, allowing me to wear them with anything, to any occasion. THREE - even though they come in a variety of colours, I have chosen a neutral pair because I am sensible.
Husband: You are a grown woman, buy whatever shoes you like with the money you work very hard to earn (Ha! Husband would never say this, he only says things like 'oh, we have to pool our money to pay the mortgage or we'll be homeless' and other such trivialities)
Anyway, you can't say he wasn't warned. I put a lot of effort and research into this AND STILL Husband was less than thrilled when I came home with:
Vivienne Westwood Melissa Lady Dragons, which are made from bubblegum scented rubber. You tell me, YOU TELL ME, that these are not THE MOST amazing shoes you have ever seen with your own two een (EEN: A Scottish word meaning 'eye' or 'eyes' for those of you who are still developing their Scottish lexicon).
Husband said 'WHAT. THE. RUDE WORD. ARE THEM?' and I said 'I told you I was buying them! We agreed! They're SENSIBLE!' and he said 'How much?' and I said 'IGTOE' and he said 'Oh, right. I love them, you made totally the correct decision. Well done!' (FALSE)
Anyway, he's been proved wrong because I have worn them several times. And it has rained non-stop in Scotvegas for the last twenty years so it's handy to have shoes you can wipe dry. But the good thing about all the rain is: the garden is SPLENDID! So yesterday I donned my sensible rubber footwear and went out and picked a pile of these:
Sweet peas. Oh, nice!
So for ages and ages I was all 'I'd really like a pair of hot pink kegs but I'm worried I'll look like a tool' and Husband always nodded and said 'Yes, that's absolutely what you would look like.' And we agreed, and did a special handshake and everything. So, you can imagine Husband's delight when he came home and I was wearing THESE bad boys! 'WHAT. AM. THOSE?!' he shrieked manfully. Husband's grammar tends to desert him when he's surprised. 'THESE AM MY NEW KEGS!' I yelled back in ecstatic delight. 'I LOVE THEM WITH MY ENTIRE FACE! Plus, I am thinking that hot pink is now a neutral because these fellas go with everything!' Husband was not as thrilled as you would expect, and started going on about money and other irrelevant whitterings so I just thought about my new trews until he was done. And then I said:
'I Got Them On Ebay!'
I Got Them (It) on Ebay, or as it shall now be known IGTOE (partly for speed, partly for megalolz) is a phrase that Husband hears a lot from me. It is normally in response to the question 'How much was (were) that (those) item (s)?' and tends to be followed by 'That's because no-one in their right mind would buy that (those) from an actual shop' but he is WRONG and also FALSE because I am totally the last person on this EARTH to start wearing brightly-coloured leg garments and I told him that and he said 'right then'. So I won.
Until we had this conversation:
Me: Husband, I'm going to invest in some rubber footwear. Rubber footwear is useful for many reasons and I have prepared a brief powerpoint presentation to highlight these reasons.
Husband: *wearily* Can you not just buy them without telling me the reasons?
Me: Probably, but I've prepared the powerpoint and everything now so.....
Husband: Can you summerise the reasons?
Me: If y'like. ONE - They are waterproof, so extremely handy for gardening and also living in Scotland. TWO - They are comfortable, allowing me to wear them with anything, to any occasion. THREE - even though they come in a variety of colours, I have chosen a neutral pair because I am sensible.
Husband: You are a grown woman, buy whatever shoes you like with the money you work very hard to earn (Ha! Husband would never say this, he only says things like 'oh, we have to pool our money to pay the mortgage or we'll be homeless' and other such trivialities)
Anyway, you can't say he wasn't warned. I put a lot of effort and research into this AND STILL Husband was less than thrilled when I came home with:
Vivienne Westwood Melissa Lady Dragons, which are made from bubblegum scented rubber. You tell me, YOU TELL ME, that these are not THE MOST amazing shoes you have ever seen with your own two een (EEN: A Scottish word meaning 'eye' or 'eyes' for those of you who are still developing their Scottish lexicon).
Husband said 'WHAT. THE. RUDE WORD. ARE THEM?' and I said 'I told you I was buying them! We agreed! They're SENSIBLE!' and he said 'How much?' and I said 'IGTOE' and he said 'Oh, right. I love them, you made totally the correct decision. Well done!' (FALSE)
Anyway, he's been proved wrong because I have worn them several times. And it has rained non-stop in Scotvegas for the last twenty years so it's handy to have shoes you can wipe dry. But the good thing about all the rain is: the garden is SPLENDID! So yesterday I donned my sensible rubber footwear and went out and picked a pile of these:
Saturday 30 June 2012
Holidayz! Woop woop!
Finally, finally made it to the end of term and let me tell you Chinas, I didn't think it was ever going to come. Now, people don't realise but Hairy Librar-ys don't get the same hollybags as teachers, so I have to work next week and a week in August but apart from that I'm offffffffffffff for a lovely FUNF weeks! Yaas!
Husband is working a lot of this weekend so I've grasped the opperchancity to visit the 'rents. And it is MAGNIFISAUR, let me tell you! Len and Roy live in the middle of nowhere, so it's all trees and air and squirrels and SILENCE. I actually grew up here but I've forgotten what it's like so every so often I go 'LOOK! There's a SQUIRREL! I LOVE IT!' and everyone sighs and looks at me pityingly.
Their nearest town is Helensburgh, which is on the West Coast of Scotvegas. Helensburgh is a proper seaside town, you should totally come for a visit. Only in Helensburger can you try the best ice cream in the entire universe (and I make it my business to know) courtesy of Dinos. They make it with condensed milk (I think?) and it is so good that me and Husband once fell out because he took a lick of mine when I wasn't looking AND HE'D ALREADY FINISHED HIS. I'm still furious thinking about it, actually. Also in Helensburgh is the recently opened Wee Kelpie, selling gourmet fish 'n chips. Today I had monkfish with homemade tarter sauce, here's a picture to make your pipes water:
So good, soooo good. And after we'd eaten it, me and Sister went to the wool shop and I got a new project:
...which I will be continuing with later, accompanied by my good friend MISTER RIOJA:
Oh yes! Good times! There's a new fabric shop opened in Helensburgh, and I so wish I'd been able to get a picture of it but I didn't want the owner to think I was a weirdo. But it's lovely, it's teeny tiny and crammed FULL OF STUFF, so obviously I felt right at home. And I got new fabric and binding but I've not taken a picture of it yet so you'll have to wait until next time. Oh, I do like to build the tension on the ol' blog!
Right so I've talked a lot on here about Len and how good at making she is. Len is also an exceptionally modest person and does not like to go on and on about what she's been uptae. We're very similar, in that respect (false). Anyhoo, she's agreed to let me showcase her most recent project. BEHOLD!
It's made from Michael Miller fabric and I WANT it. I WANT IT! I want it so much, I'm genuinely considering getting married again so I can use it. It's so, so lovely and perfect for Weddinging Around, which you do a lot of when you're getting married. I've been telling her for ages, she needs to get them up on Etsy because I'm certain people would buy them but she won't have it. She's just handed me a glass of the hooch, what a nice lady she is! Good old Len Goodman. But isn't the bag just MAGNIFICENT?
So chaps, I'm off to enjoy the sound of the rain bouncing off the ground, get stuck into my knitting and have a good old hearty slurp of the vino. I hope you have a lovely evening too!
Husband is working a lot of this weekend so I've grasped the opperchancity to visit the 'rents. And it is MAGNIFISAUR, let me tell you! Len and Roy live in the middle of nowhere, so it's all trees and air and squirrels and SILENCE. I actually grew up here but I've forgotten what it's like so every so often I go 'LOOK! There's a SQUIRREL! I LOVE IT!' and everyone sighs and looks at me pityingly.
Their nearest town is Helensburgh, which is on the West Coast of Scotvegas. Helensburgh is a proper seaside town, you should totally come for a visit. Only in Helensburger can you try the best ice cream in the entire universe (and I make it my business to know) courtesy of Dinos. They make it with condensed milk (I think?) and it is so good that me and Husband once fell out because he took a lick of mine when I wasn't looking AND HE'D ALREADY FINISHED HIS. I'm still furious thinking about it, actually. Also in Helensburgh is the recently opened Wee Kelpie, selling gourmet fish 'n chips. Today I had monkfish with homemade tarter sauce, here's a picture to make your pipes water:
So good, soooo good. And after we'd eaten it, me and Sister went to the wool shop and I got a new project:
...which I will be continuing with later, accompanied by my good friend MISTER RIOJA:
Oh yes! Good times! There's a new fabric shop opened in Helensburgh, and I so wish I'd been able to get a picture of it but I didn't want the owner to think I was a weirdo. But it's lovely, it's teeny tiny and crammed FULL OF STUFF, so obviously I felt right at home. And I got new fabric and binding but I've not taken a picture of it yet so you'll have to wait until next time. Oh, I do like to build the tension on the ol' blog!
Right so I've talked a lot on here about Len and how good at making she is. Len is also an exceptionally modest person and does not like to go on and on about what she's been uptae. We're very similar, in that respect (false). Anyhoo, she's agreed to let me showcase her most recent project. BEHOLD!
It's made from Michael Miller fabric and I WANT it. I WANT IT! I want it so much, I'm genuinely considering getting married again so I can use it. It's so, so lovely and perfect for Weddinging Around, which you do a lot of when you're getting married. I've been telling her for ages, she needs to get them up on Etsy because I'm certain people would buy them but she won't have it. She's just handed me a glass of the hooch, what a nice lady she is! Good old Len Goodman. But isn't the bag just MAGNIFICENT?
So chaps, I'm off to enjoy the sound of the rain bouncing off the ground, get stuck into my knitting and have a good old hearty slurp of the vino. I hope you have a lovely evening too!
Sunday 24 June 2012
A Giant Bumbleerie Bee
As I said in my last post, Husband and I have been decorating up a storm. Decorating the house the way we want it is lovely, but decorating itself suh-hucks because there's stuff everywhere and we keep losing things. Like, for instance, my favourite tweezers. Now! I have regular fights with my eyebrows, if left untreated they meet in the middle then migrate towards my mustache. It's a constant battle of wills which I can only fight if I have the correct tools. And now the only thing stopping me looking like a giant eyebrow on legs has been lost in the swirling vortex of decorating black hole-ness. Total nightmare.
Also, there's a funny feeling of, well the house is total chaos so we may as well stop exercising and eating nice things, and instead just sit around playing 'How Many Chips is Too Many Chips?'
(Here are the rules to HMCITMC: Buy chips. Eat as many as you can without stopping. Stop when you have to say 'Ugh, I've eaten too many chips...' The winner is the person who has eaten the most chips. Good luck!)
But we're getting there. Today I got all the stuff back into the kitchen and made a lovely dinner:
Anyway, when I was making this FEAST a monser-sized bumblebee flew in the window. I say flew but actually it was so big, I think it might have driven into the kitchen in some kind of car. It was at least twice as big as the stupid cat, it had tattoos and was lifting weights as I went over to it (false).
So, since I had been ABANDONED by Husband, and because I don't want to be scared of flying things with minging legs that can sting, I got a glass and a sheet of paper and did that thing that people do. And it worked but the buzz was so powerful it vibrated up my arm and totally freaked me out. This whole story is a bit pointless because I didn't get a picture of the bee, so you'll just have to take my word for it. When you have to defend your house from gigantic insects, you don't tend to stop and think 'Ooooh, a Kodak moment!' No, you ride with the beast.
But since I picked it up I keep thinking that I can hear it, and I keep going 'Husband! Is that bee in my hair?' and Husband wearily looks and says 'No.'
Sigh.
I'm aware that this is a spectacularly boring blog post, but in all honesty, this is the most exciting thing that has happened this week. The decorating has stopped the making, the working has stopped the decorating, the working is rolling very VERY slowly to the end of term where hopefully things should pick up again.
Oh no, I've just remembered ! I did make something! Here y'go:
I finished my apron! Again, it's a bit dodge BUT it's finished. Although it makes me talk funny - every time I think about it I think 'Ooh, I maka da apran' - why would that be? I don't even think people anywhere speak like that. I think I might have slipped into some kind of dimension of mentalness. Maybe it's the paint fumes.
Right chaps, I'm off to paint my nails for work the morra (old Scottish phrase meaning : tomorrow. Add it to you collection, if you like!). Only four days left until summer holidays, Kah-CHING!
S'laters!
Also, there's a funny feeling of, well the house is total chaos so we may as well stop exercising and eating nice things, and instead just sit around playing 'How Many Chips is Too Many Chips?'
(Here are the rules to HMCITMC: Buy chips. Eat as many as you can without stopping. Stop when you have to say 'Ugh, I've eaten too many chips...' The winner is the person who has eaten the most chips. Good luck!)
But we're getting there. Today I got all the stuff back into the kitchen and made a lovely dinner:
Anyway, when I was making this FEAST a monser-sized bumblebee flew in the window. I say flew but actually it was so big, I think it might have driven into the kitchen in some kind of car. It was at least twice as big as the stupid cat, it had tattoos and was lifting weights as I went over to it (false).
So, since I had been ABANDONED by Husband, and because I don't want to be scared of flying things with minging legs that can sting, I got a glass and a sheet of paper and did that thing that people do. And it worked but the buzz was so powerful it vibrated up my arm and totally freaked me out. This whole story is a bit pointless because I didn't get a picture of the bee, so you'll just have to take my word for it. When you have to defend your house from gigantic insects, you don't tend to stop and think 'Ooooh, a Kodak moment!' No, you ride with the beast.
But since I picked it up I keep thinking that I can hear it, and I keep going 'Husband! Is that bee in my hair?' and Husband wearily looks and says 'No.'
Sigh.
I'm aware that this is a spectacularly boring blog post, but in all honesty, this is the most exciting thing that has happened this week. The decorating has stopped the making, the working has stopped the decorating, the working is rolling very VERY slowly to the end of term where hopefully things should pick up again.
Oh no, I've just remembered ! I did make something! Here y'go:
I finished my apron! Again, it's a bit dodge BUT it's finished. Although it makes me talk funny - every time I think about it I think 'Ooh, I maka da apran' - why would that be? I don't even think people anywhere speak like that. I think I might have slipped into some kind of dimension of mentalness. Maybe it's the paint fumes.
Right chaps, I'm off to paint my nails for work the morra (old Scottish phrase meaning : tomorrow. Add it to you collection, if you like!). Only four days left until summer holidays, Kah-CHING!
S'laters!
Tuesday 19 June 2012
Decorating Bumbaleerie Mansions
Hello all!
Once again Chaps, absolutely NONE of the making has been done due to extreme work-related busyness and the fact that Bumbaleerie Mansions is under siege.
Yes. That's a fact*.
Husband has been decorating all the things! Here's a taste of what he's been uptae (UPTAE: an old Scottish word meaning 'up to' or 'doing'. You're welcome.)
Flamingos!! Eh? In a hallway? That's probably in the top ten coolest things you've ever seen, so brace yourselves for THIS:
So we still have to do the floor (which is going to be Walnut wood, regardless of how much Husband complains) and gloss the skirting boards but I am over the moon with it. It's my favourite room in the house, which is annoying because there's no TV so you can only sit in it for so long.
Anyway, I hate decorating. It's totally rubbish, Bumbaleerie Mansions is a wreck, there's stuff everywhere and you have to be really careful when you sit down in case you smear paint on the couch. Plus, the stupid cat can't handle it at all, he just slinks around looking really worried and whines to be let outside, where he whines to get back in again. Very stupid and annoying.
The other rubbish thing about decorating is that the chat between Husband and I is not even worth listening to. He's all 'oh, we have to go back to B&Q for some DIY SOS megatron 3,000 paint blasting undersplash' and I'm all 'I HATE THIS B&Q, IT IS THE LAND OF THE UNDEAD' - B&Q is full of couples arguing and people storming around going 'well, if YOU like the sodding GREY MIST then GET the SODDING GREY MIST. But don't complain to ME when YOUR MOTHER comes round and says we should have got GREY FOG'. The hilarious thing about B&Q though is that the paint has really gentle names, and when people are shouting at each other it's totally surreal: 'I DIDN'T say that the Pink Kiss was hideous, I SAID that I didn't like Soft Lavender because it's too similar to the Cuddling Cyan that YOU wanted for the Kitchen, EVEN THOUGH I TOLD YOU that SNUGGLING SILVER would match the worktops better!'
No, wait, the worst ones are the new couples who skip around hand-in-hand going 'I think that the Smoochy Sun-Kissed Sand is the best colour for our love-nest, don't you think?' 'Oh yes! When I saw that colour, I immediately thought of that time I kissed you under the dew of the morning mist on that day in...' *girlfriend interrupts and they both say at the same time* '...PARIS!!!' and gaze at each other in rapturous delight. And Husband goes 'Aaw, they're so in love just like us!' and I go 'CAN I GET THIS COOL THING?!' and hold up a blow torch or ... I dunno....a spade with a nice handle.
No, NO, WAIT! The VERY worst thing is buying everything, taking it home and leaving it in the shed for two months then having to do everything really quickly to get it over with. And it always causes arguments between me and Husband, from the trivial:
HUSBAND: Don't put Abba on, I hate Abba.
ME: WRONG! Everyone in the world likes Abba...*Dancing Queen, blah blah blah la la tambourine OH YEAH!*
HUSBAND: SWITCH OFF ABBA!
ME: *wounded*
to the pointless:
ME: Flamingos are lovely.
HUSBAND: No, they're not.
ME: Yes they are!
HUSBAND: No.
ME: YES!
HUSBAND: I hate Flamingos.
ME: NO!
etc
to the pleasingly banal:
ME: ...so then I said 'well why not try it with gruyere and she was all 'good idea' but then she tried it and THEN was all 'Oh, I tried the gruyere but it didn't work...'
HUSBAND: Please stop telling me this story.
ME: *shocked into furious silence* WHY are you ALWAYS so RUDE?!
But in the end, once it's all finished, Husband gives me a quick cuddle in the kitchen and says 'our house is nice.' And I agree with him, and we're friends.
*facts may not be true, or in any way accurate.
Once again Chaps, absolutely NONE of the making has been done due to extreme work-related busyness and the fact that Bumbaleerie Mansions is under siege.
Yes. That's a fact*.
Husband has been decorating all the things! Here's a taste of what he's been uptae (UPTAE: an old Scottish word meaning 'up to' or 'doing'. You're welcome.)
Flamingos!! Eh? In a hallway? That's probably in the top ten coolest things you've ever seen, so brace yourselves for THIS:
So we still have to do the floor (which is going to be Walnut wood, regardless of how much Husband complains) and gloss the skirting boards but I am over the moon with it. It's my favourite room in the house, which is annoying because there's no TV so you can only sit in it for so long.
Anyway, I hate decorating. It's totally rubbish, Bumbaleerie Mansions is a wreck, there's stuff everywhere and you have to be really careful when you sit down in case you smear paint on the couch. Plus, the stupid cat can't handle it at all, he just slinks around looking really worried and whines to be let outside, where he whines to get back in again. Very stupid and annoying.
The other rubbish thing about decorating is that the chat between Husband and I is not even worth listening to. He's all 'oh, we have to go back to B&Q for some DIY SOS megatron 3,000 paint blasting undersplash' and I'm all 'I HATE THIS B&Q, IT IS THE LAND OF THE UNDEAD' - B&Q is full of couples arguing and people storming around going 'well, if YOU like the sodding GREY MIST then GET the SODDING GREY MIST. But don't complain to ME when YOUR MOTHER comes round and says we should have got GREY FOG'. The hilarious thing about B&Q though is that the paint has really gentle names, and when people are shouting at each other it's totally surreal: 'I DIDN'T say that the Pink Kiss was hideous, I SAID that I didn't like Soft Lavender because it's too similar to the Cuddling Cyan that YOU wanted for the Kitchen, EVEN THOUGH I TOLD YOU that SNUGGLING SILVER would match the worktops better!'
No, wait, the worst ones are the new couples who skip around hand-in-hand going 'I think that the Smoochy Sun-Kissed Sand is the best colour for our love-nest, don't you think?' 'Oh yes! When I saw that colour, I immediately thought of that time I kissed you under the dew of the morning mist on that day in...' *girlfriend interrupts and they both say at the same time* '...PARIS!!!' and gaze at each other in rapturous delight. And Husband goes 'Aaw, they're so in love just like us!' and I go 'CAN I GET THIS COOL THING?!' and hold up a blow torch or ... I dunno....a spade with a nice handle.
No, NO, WAIT! The VERY worst thing is buying everything, taking it home and leaving it in the shed for two months then having to do everything really quickly to get it over with. And it always causes arguments between me and Husband, from the trivial:
HUSBAND: Don't put Abba on, I hate Abba.
ME: WRONG! Everyone in the world likes Abba...*Dancing Queen, blah blah blah la la tambourine OH YEAH!*
HUSBAND: SWITCH OFF ABBA!
ME: *wounded*
to the pointless:
ME: Flamingos are lovely.
HUSBAND: No, they're not.
ME: Yes they are!
HUSBAND: No.
ME: YES!
HUSBAND: I hate Flamingos.
ME: NO!
etc
to the pleasingly banal:
ME: ...so then I said 'well why not try it with gruyere and she was all 'good idea' but then she tried it and THEN was all 'Oh, I tried the gruyere but it didn't work...'
HUSBAND: Please stop telling me this story.
ME: *shocked into furious silence* WHY are you ALWAYS so RUDE?!
But in the end, once it's all finished, Husband gives me a quick cuddle in the kitchen and says 'our house is nice.' And I agree with him, and we're friends.
*facts may not be true, or in any way accurate.
Friday 15 June 2012
About Me
I've had a really busy week this week and have done none of the making, so I have nothing to say about anything. Recently I was having a conversation with a friendly work-mate and she asked me 'what do you even write about on your blog?' and I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and...my mind went blank. Then my subconscious kicked in and to fill the now-awkward silence I suddenly yelled 'STUFF!!!!' right into her face. She looked a little startled, as was I.
But, all respect to her, she carried on: 'So do you have personal details on there?' and again, my mind left me and I bellowed 'NOPE!!' It was at that point that she shuffled off, probably to find someone normal to talk to.
So I thought I'd tell you more about myself. Be a bit more personal, if you like. You probably won't like it, but try to be brave. Strap yourselves in chaps, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Name: Baroness Eilidhbelle Sittingonher-Bumbaleerie IV
Age: Mental or physical? Mental: thirteen. Physical: around eighty-five. But in birth years, twenty-six gaaaah!
Appearance: Ginormous face. Mad minging-brown curly hair. More eyebrows than the average person. Slow in gait. A tad cross-eyed. Here's a photo:
NOTE: Husband looks really grumpy in this photo because we'd just come out of Steptoe's Yard and he was still mulling over parting with his hard-earned Scottish Drachma just to keep me, HIS WIFE, happy. Rude. Also, I look blind but I am not.
Profession: Librarian. Yep, I'm a fully qualified hairy library-y. And I work in a school. There is nothing else I can say to make this more exciting. No, wait, I've thought of something: Catwoman was a Librarian. So, in conclusion, I am DEFINITELY Catwoman (FACT).
Pets: Two cats, a stupid one and an unfriendly one. Here's a photo of the unfriendly one being forced to sit on my knee:
He looks like he's being tortured even though I brushed his fur for ages and lured him on with treats. He only likes Husband, and only then it's because he knows Husband doesn't like him. Awkward and annoying. Although he does look exactly like a snow leopard, and he walks like one, which is cool. Also, he's not scared of foxes. But he is scared of pumpkins. Cats are rubbish.
Family: Len, Roy, Sister and Brother. Gran, Grandad, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Uncle, Cousin x25.
I can't think of anything else that you might like to know so I'm going to end this post with an anecdote about my life.
Bumbaleerie Mansions is situated on a lovely quiet street that just so happens to be a short cut to the local school. Recently I was doing some gardening (drinking in the garden) when some hooded youths walked by and flicked an empty Haribo wrapper into my hedge. I work in a school, so I know how to speak to the young.
'Yoo hoo! Homie!' I called 'You've WELL dropped your empty sweets bag into my crib. I'm totes 'down' with you dudes 'chilling' whilst 'roamin' past my gaff, but pleaz put your rubbish into de binz, word?' They looked at me in total amazement, probably not used to post-teens such as myself having such a confident grip on street vernacular. One of the youths began to approach me, so I held out my hand in case he wanted to 'fist-bump' to secure our alliance. He did not.
'I'm terribly sorry, Miss, I didn't realise I'd dropped it. I'll put it in the bin immediately. Lovely garden!' he smiled at me kindly and I beamed back. We're proper mates now.
I told Husband about this later and he said mildly 'That's nice dear.' but he's WELL 'jel' that he doesn't have someone watching his back in the hood.
But, all respect to her, she carried on: 'So do you have personal details on there?' and again, my mind left me and I bellowed 'NOPE!!' It was at that point that she shuffled off, probably to find someone normal to talk to.
So I thought I'd tell you more about myself. Be a bit more personal, if you like. You probably won't like it, but try to be brave. Strap yourselves in chaps, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Name: Baroness Eilidhbelle Sittingonher-Bumbaleerie IV
Age: Mental or physical? Mental: thirteen. Physical: around eighty-five. But in birth years, twenty-six gaaaah!
Appearance: Ginormous face. Mad minging-brown curly hair. More eyebrows than the average person. Slow in gait. A tad cross-eyed. Here's a photo:
NOTE: Husband looks really grumpy in this photo because we'd just come out of Steptoe's Yard and he was still mulling over parting with his hard-earned Scottish Drachma just to keep me, HIS WIFE, happy. Rude. Also, I look blind but I am not.
Profession: Librarian. Yep, I'm a fully qualified hairy library-y. And I work in a school. There is nothing else I can say to make this more exciting. No, wait, I've thought of something: Catwoman was a Librarian. So, in conclusion, I am DEFINITELY Catwoman (FACT).
Pets: Two cats, a stupid one and an unfriendly one. Here's a photo of the unfriendly one being forced to sit on my knee:
He looks like he's being tortured even though I brushed his fur for ages and lured him on with treats. He only likes Husband, and only then it's because he knows Husband doesn't like him. Awkward and annoying. Although he does look exactly like a snow leopard, and he walks like one, which is cool. Also, he's not scared of foxes. But he is scared of pumpkins. Cats are rubbish.
Family: Len, Roy, Sister and Brother. Gran, Grandad, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Uncle, Cousin x25.
I can't think of anything else that you might like to know so I'm going to end this post with an anecdote about my life.
Bumbaleerie Mansions is situated on a lovely quiet street that just so happens to be a short cut to the local school. Recently I was doing some gardening (drinking in the garden) when some hooded youths walked by and flicked an empty Haribo wrapper into my hedge. I work in a school, so I know how to speak to the young.
'Yoo hoo! Homie!' I called 'You've WELL dropped your empty sweets bag into my crib. I'm totes 'down' with you dudes 'chilling' whilst 'roamin' past my gaff, but pleaz put your rubbish into de binz, word?' They looked at me in total amazement, probably not used to post-teens such as myself having such a confident grip on street vernacular. One of the youths began to approach me, so I held out my hand in case he wanted to 'fist-bump' to secure our alliance. He did not.
'I'm terribly sorry, Miss, I didn't realise I'd dropped it. I'll put it in the bin immediately. Lovely garden!' he smiled at me kindly and I beamed back. We're proper mates now.
I told Husband about this later and he said mildly 'That's nice dear.' but he's WELL 'jel' that he doesn't have someone watching his back in the hood.
Sunday 10 June 2012
A Magical Place
Oh, Husband and I went to the most MAGNIFICENT place in the entire universe! Before I go on and ON about it, I should credit Anne over at My Blethering Blog for introducing me to this land of EverythingThatIsGood, go over and read her post on it, it will rock your socks.
Steptoes Yard in Montrose, or as they call it the 'only museum in the world where everything is for sale' or as I call it 'HUSBAND THIS PLACE IS MORE MAGNIFICENT THAN ANYTHING I'VE EVER DREAMED OF!!' It was amazing.
It was like a gigantic, magical farm full of things and stuff. I didn't get very many pictures of outside but INSIDE:
Every square inch was filled with magic and rainbows (Husband says 'junk', but he's rude and lacks imagination). There was a whole room dedicated to glass:
a whole room dedicated to crockery:
boxes of postcards and pens:
The lady said it was from the fifties but I'm thinking she was false in her statement - I'd say seventies or eighties. It comes with a lid but it was MINGING and is in the dishwasher as we speak. The lady asked for twelve quid but I talked her down to £8, which I thought was a fantastic bargain. Husband was also thrilled (not true.) AND THEN, I spotted these bad boys:
I summoned the Lady. 'Madam' I sez, 'I must have these for entertaining purposes. Name your price, although it is totally irrelevant, I shall be taking them no matter how many times I have to cross your palm with silver.' Husband glared at me over her shoulder. He had said previously that I could only get them if they cost less than 17p, which was frankly unrealistic. Sometimes Husband loses touch with reality.
'That's an original lemonade set, from the 50s' she said doubtfully. Husband rolled his eyes, he always thinks people are trying to con us, whereas I believe EVERYTHING no matter how unlikely. 'It'll cost you twelve quid, no haggling'. My brows furrowed. 'I thank you for your frank honesty, my good woman. However, it cannot have escaped your notice that there is one glass missing from the set. There are only FUNF glasses, where there would have once been SIX. We simply MUST come to some arrangement regarding the bucks, before my Husband keels over in your fine establishment.' I leaned closer and winked at her, lady-to-lady. I think she appreciated that.
'Tenner.'
'SOLD! Don't wrap them up, I'll need them for the drive home where I'll be pretending to live in yesteryear and toasting other passengers. I thank you for your time, and also your magnificence in this matter.'
And we left, one of us (me) skipping (carefully, didn't want to drop what is almost certainly original 1950s glasswear, and not something that could have been picked up in Asda), while hissing 'Husband! I think I made a new friend! I am friends with Steptoe Lady! We're mates! She almost certainly thinks I'm charming!' even though said Lady was glaring at us, clearly happy we were leaving. Husband was practically running back to the car, holding on to my sleeve in case 'you're tempted to buy more crap for our house'. UNGRATEFUL!
Steptoes Yard in Montrose, or as they call it the 'only museum in the world where everything is for sale' or as I call it 'HUSBAND THIS PLACE IS MORE MAGNIFICENT THAN ANYTHING I'VE EVER DREAMED OF!!' It was amazing.
It was like a gigantic, magical farm full of things and stuff. I didn't get very many pictures of outside but INSIDE:
Every square inch was filled with magic and rainbows (Husband says 'junk', but he's rude and lacks imagination). There was a whole room dedicated to glass:
a whole room dedicated to crockery:
boxes of postcards and pens:
It was MENTAL! And I know what you're thinking: Eilidhbelle, you're a lady of wonderful taste and style, surely you didn't pass up the opportunity to bag some wonderful items for Bumbaleerie Mansions?!
Thank you for asking! I did! A PINK PYREX!
I summoned the Lady. 'Madam' I sez, 'I must have these for entertaining purposes. Name your price, although it is totally irrelevant, I shall be taking them no matter how many times I have to cross your palm with silver.' Husband glared at me over her shoulder. He had said previously that I could only get them if they cost less than 17p, which was frankly unrealistic. Sometimes Husband loses touch with reality.
'That's an original lemonade set, from the 50s' she said doubtfully. Husband rolled his eyes, he always thinks people are trying to con us, whereas I believe EVERYTHING no matter how unlikely. 'It'll cost you twelve quid, no haggling'. My brows furrowed. 'I thank you for your frank honesty, my good woman. However, it cannot have escaped your notice that there is one glass missing from the set. There are only FUNF glasses, where there would have once been SIX. We simply MUST come to some arrangement regarding the bucks, before my Husband keels over in your fine establishment.' I leaned closer and winked at her, lady-to-lady. I think she appreciated that.
'Tenner.'
'SOLD! Don't wrap them up, I'll need them for the drive home where I'll be pretending to live in yesteryear and toasting other passengers. I thank you for your time, and also your magnificence in this matter.'
And we left, one of us (me) skipping (carefully, didn't want to drop what is almost certainly original 1950s glasswear, and not something that could have been picked up in Asda), while hissing 'Husband! I think I made a new friend! I am friends with Steptoe Lady! We're mates! She almost certainly thinks I'm charming!' even though said Lady was glaring at us, clearly happy we were leaving. Husband was practically running back to the car, holding on to my sleeve in case 'you're tempted to buy more crap for our house'. UNGRATEFUL!
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