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!

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.