Bumbaleerie Mansions

Evening all.

So I've been promising you a tour of Bumbaleerie Mansions for a while now - sadly, due to the arrival of the Perfect, the Mansions are never tidy enough to get a decent picture of. So instead, here's a wee bit at a time. Here's some things you oughter know before we get started:

1) The Crib was built in 1932.
2) It has a bomb shelter in the garden, that I would've taken a picture of today but it was snowing, and I couldn't find my shoes.
3) The people who owned it before Husband and I rescued it were bonkers. They superglued light fittings to the ceiling, shelves to the wall and floor tiles to the..em, floor. Quite, quite mad.
4) I love it with my ENTIRE FACE.
5) It has three original fireplaces in it.
6) The kitchen, where I spend most of my time, used to be the kitchen, dining room and pantry, until the Bonkertons knocked through - so the kitchen is montagonous. We're spoiled if we ever have to move though because I love the kitchen the most.
7) When we came to view it, I loved it so much that I did a wee dance in the kitchen and Mr Bonkers saw me and immediately added more Scottish bucks to the price. Husband was delighted! (False).

There's more here, if that ol' list wasn't enough.

So! Here's where I am right this very now!

This is our kitchen table, which is splendid and also ginormous. It can fit twelve people around it once it's extended, here's what happened when we bought it:

Me: Husband! That table fits twelve people around it once it's extended!
Husband: It's ginormous.
Me: And SPLENDID! We can recreate Downton!
Husband: Why do you always want to recreate Downton?

In the middle of the table is my most recent purchase - Hyacinths! I planted them today, here's hoping they survive. I seem to have this think called 'Killeverything-itus' where nothing green can live in my house. I've been given so many fecking Orchids and they last about nine seconds before sadly passing on.

FUNNY STORY I'VE JUST REMEMBERED: In Dobbies today, a man standing next to me said to his wife 'Look, they've got orchards!' and she said 'Not orchards, darling, ORCHIDS' and he said 'No, they're definitely called orchards' and she said 'no, they definitely aren't' and he wasn't having ANY OF IT. I'd just pushed my sleeves up my arms ready to get stuck in and RIGHT THIS WRONG, but Husband pulled me back and said I wasn't to get involved. They're probably still at it. Very funny and pointless, which is my favourite kind of argument with Husband.

Here's a close up of the, and I think you'll agree wholeheartedly with this, EXCELLENTLY planted Hyacinths:

Next, my second-newest kitchen purchase:

CHICKEN EGG CUPS! From the 70s, so VINTAGE CHICKEN EGG CUPS! Brilliant, although they caused a slight altercation when I bought them. I said to the lady 'I must have these, they are magnificent and a wise addition to any home, including those modelled VERY CLOSELY on Downton Abbey. How much, please?' and she said '£2.50'. There was a brief pause until I yelled 'WHIT? MARVELLOUS BARGAIN!' and grabbed the lot. Turns out, they were £2.50 each. But, as I said to Husband, shouting in a sales lady's face is practically a signed contract, so you can't just change your mind like a total mind-changer. Anyway, still worth it because they are wonderful, and not 'hideously tacky' or 'a total waste of money' OR 'literally the worst things I have ever seen'.

Lastly, here's a picture of my knittingsewingcrochetjunk stash as it is now that we had to clear out my sewing room for the Perfect:

There's so many of my favourite things on this bookcase - a photo of Perfect, right at the top, when he was seconds old. My Govencroft jugs, my tangled knitting, my sewing maching, my jelly mould of Betty. Lovely, and kept so tidy! Also, some of my least favourite things - the iron, lurking sinisterly in the foreground. Husband's unfinished jumper. Some minging rip-offy wool that I was conned into buying, and is a source of everlasting regret and anguish. I won't point it out, it makes me too angry. And I've just realised that Perfect's blanket isn't even in this picture but if it WAS, if I was tidier and it WAS here, instead of on the couch in the living room, I could gracefully and beautifully link into the next picture, which is progress on the ripple blanket, but since it isn't there, I'll just have to do it in a CLUMPY WAY:

Here's how I'm getting on with the ripples! At this rate, he should have it in time for his own children.

Pip pip!

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!

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!

A Well-Spent Jubilee Weekend

The Jubilee weekend has been lovely, and I've used my time very, very wisely (<---- not true). I finally bit the bullet and got a proper pair of running shoes and took them for a spin tonight - they worked well, but so they should for the money I spent on them. It is soul destroying having to buy shoes you don't even like when you could have spent them money on shoes you would really, really have liked...BUT no more shin-splints, so that's a good thing. Have you ever bought running shoes? It's mortifying, they make you go on a treadmill to 'try them out' (WRONG, it's so they can laugh at you) although the nice man serving me didn't ask me to do that, I think because of the mournful look I gave the treadmill when he pointed at it. Or maybe it was because I shook my fist at it, I dunno. Either way, I came out with a horrible shiny pair of stupid-face running shoes and no more leg cramps.

I got another very exciting bundle through in the post: CRUSHED WALNUT SHELLS to make pin cushions AND they sharpen your pins too! Isn't that cool?

ANSWER: No actually, not cool at all. The stupid crushed stupid walnut shells went EVERYWHERE, and it turns out you need a LOT of walnut shells to fill a bird-shaped pin cushions AND it's really difficult to get it so stuffed that it feels nice so MINE feels like a half-empty bean bag. Not happy, not happy one little bit. Very furious actually, because I had to hoover my sewing room and I hate hoovering. But then I did something nice:

It's the first of my vintage pinnies, after my dressmaking lesson from Len. The binding should actually be lace but lace is a whole lot of trouble, and I said to Husband, Sister, Len, Roy, the big cat, the stupid cat, myself and the lady in the co-op: Why make it hard for yourself? And they all agreed, stick with the binding. So I did. I was in two minds whether or not to tidy up a bit before I took this picture, but then I thought nah, it looks rustic, plus it's very bohemian to be a total mink. I still have to gather the top (of the apron) and put the band on, and do the ties BUT it's nearly there. It's lovely to make aprons, I would highly recommend it. Today I also dug my front garden and planted loads of Hydrangeas (I think my new favourite flower) and Lavender (I think my new favourite smell) and I am pleased with the finished product:

 It'll look just peachy when they all grow a bit. I've also got a heap of sweet peas growing up one end of the garden but my neighbour was outside and I didn't want him thinking I was taking pictures of him (or, now that I think about it, my garden. It's a bit strange to take pictures of your garden isn't it?) This was not a relaxing afternoon's work by the way. First, the garden was absolutely COATED in weeds. Imagine all the weeds you've ever seen in your whole life. Now imagine that they are heading to the Jubilee celebrations in London with ninety-million of their closest friends. Now times that by eight-four, and THAT'S how bad my garden was. Phew, that's hard maths isn't it? I should have just taken a before picture. Never mind.

Second in the not-relaxing list:  I had to keep bending over....and I was wearing a tunic and leggings....and two wee boys passed sniggering....and I'm CERTAIN they were laughing at my bumbaleerie. That thought haunted me all afternoon.

Third: I hate spiders. I hate them with the fire of a thousand splendid suns. And they know it. Every time I venture outside they prick up their ears (?), gather a lynch mob and scuttle out going 'GET HER, GET THE CURLY ONE, GET HER!'and I have to run away shrieking.

But today, I have a message for them.

GOOD LUCK GETTING ME NOW STUPID-FACE SPIDERS, COZ ONE HAS NEW RUNNING SNEAKS!