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!

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:

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:

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!

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:

(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!

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!

It has been aaaages.

Hello! It's been ages! But I've been busy. I've been to New York! Epic, but not for this blog. I've made pizza!

I've made some weird things for inside flowers!

I've made a quilt for my gran!

Actually, that's a lie. I tried to make it in a hurry, totally messed it up then had to order more fabric to fix it, which I have not done yet. Also, I ran out of thread. But! Never mind, because I also painted a table!

And that table is in.....wait for it.....my new sewing room! Which is nearly, nearly finished, I'll put a picture up when it is FINISHED, instead of finished. Or Finnish, or Flemish, or whatevs. I also saw a nice pig!

I also have nice slippers!

It has also been sunny in Scotland!

So, all in all, very much of the old excitement and good times.