Well- what a lovely welcome home we've had. Although it could have always been worse. We arrived back last night to a very post-Christmas flat (note- we had headed off on our travels around the UK very hungover on Boxing Day morning) which was bad enough. We found out that the fish hadn't been fed by our neighbour (he had been drunk when we'd asked him) but they were just surviving, I slid on the goose fat that was still on the kitchen floor (apparantely it takes months to get rid of), the pine needles were everywhere, scrunched and ripped wrapping paper was flowing from every bin, and, just as we were putting off the tidying up and settling down to a nice mug of hot herbal tea, it all got ten times worse. The shelf with the fish tank on which sits directly above our TV, CD player and DVD player, decided to leap off the wall- causing chaos everywhere. Broken glass, shocked pets and fish-poo water were strewn halfway across the flat, and across all our electricals. We now have no sound system and a tv that fizzles when I watch it so I think it's best left off. The carpet is damp and smells a bit. Our fish are surprisingly OK, after we found one under the dining table and the other wriggling under a shard of glass, that 2mm closer would have garotted him. Him and his mate are now swimming about happily in my teapot. Not a nice thing to deal with when you've come home after holiday, but thank f@£k it didn't happen when we were away or we would have come back to broken glass, DEAD pets and fish-poo water everywhere.
Andy and I took this as God's way of making sure we watch less television. We have been glued to the box all week (unless you count our intermittent Scrabble championships- I'm beating him by miles by the way), as in Devon we had cable (which we don't have at home) so we were in channel-flicking heaven until about 1am every night. I now realise why I usually go to bed around 10pm at home- because terrestrial tv is pants after 10 o'clock (unless you count Shameless which is brilliant).
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Super Bore Me
Did anyone see that ITV documentary last night 'The Truth About Binge Drinking' with some prototype singer from Liberty X? It followed her having a month-long drinking session to show viewers the 'real affects of drinking too much'. What a load of shit that was- the worst thing that happened to her was that her voice (her 'livelihood' as she called it) went a bit croaky, her very boring husband was worried when she came home later than midnight, and she got snapped in a gossip mag looking a bit boss-eyed with an ex Big Brother contestant. Jesus- now I know MY drinking antics aren't that rock n' roll anymore (my idea of a good session involves a lot of sitting, eating and a good film- Hello Anna who we just spent new year with- sorry it wasn't your wildest night away) but I haven't agreed to be filmed for a 90 minute documentary. I wouldn't inflict watching my boring life on anyone. You can read about it in my blog if you so choose, but I hope I don't profess to be the epitome of anything, and claim to prove things about other people's lives along the way. Yes-the Liberty X bird was drinking too much (they estimated she was having about 75 units per week, although she must have got too pissed to remember to write all her units in her little black book, so it was probably more)and that isn't great, but it didn't prove anything new. Obviously drinking 4 times the amount of the recommended weekly quantity is going to make you feel tired, have an effect on your memory and your immune system. Whoopy f@£king do!! I should have stuck to stimulating board games instead of being lured in by the wide screen.
I once had my drinking diary published in More! magazine, along with a few others. Some doctors came along and analysed what we had drunk and commented on whether we needed help or not. According to them- I did. I had an unusual week that week as I hadn't been at work and had some money so obviously I went a bit wild- well, I was young and single for crying out loud. It would have been a bit sad if I hadn't. I ended up having so much fun that on one of my many benders, I went home with Dennis Pennis. Not a bad time was had all in all. But I was 21, having fun. I kept a diary and back at More! HQ Channel 5's Richard Arnold (yes- that orange faced chatshow host- he had to start somewhere- gosh I am name dropping with all these g-listers am I not) and I worked out that I had ended up consuming 101 units that week (about 50 were with the Pennis). I was a bit embarrassed (although Richard's comment was 'Good girl!') and those 'experts' were horrified, but I have lived to tell the tale and laugh about it. I would never be able to drink that much anymore- not only because I am a mum and don't really get drunk in the proper falling over/seeing double sense, but my body won't allow it. I'm getting older and I don't want wake up every day feeling like I've been attacked by a hungry baby walrus . I got that over-indulging bit of my life out of the way (well- with the booze- now I greedily slavver on expensive, Waitrose ingredients) and don't regret it. I had a liver check up about 2 years ago and it's fine. I think the nation needs something like alcohol to keep it feeling fruity, and it's down to the individual how much they choose to poison themselves. I just wish they'd stop trying to tell us the truth, because we already know it's bad for us, and maybe that makes the stuff just a little bit more appealing....
Soundtrack: Adam and the Ants- Goody Two Shoes
I once had my drinking diary published in More! magazine, along with a few others. Some doctors came along and analysed what we had drunk and commented on whether we needed help or not. According to them- I did. I had an unusual week that week as I hadn't been at work and had some money so obviously I went a bit wild- well, I was young and single for crying out loud. It would have been a bit sad if I hadn't. I ended up having so much fun that on one of my many benders, I went home with Dennis Pennis. Not a bad time was had all in all. But I was 21, having fun. I kept a diary and back at More! HQ Channel 5's Richard Arnold (yes- that orange faced chatshow host- he had to start somewhere- gosh I am name dropping with all these g-listers am I not) and I worked out that I had ended up consuming 101 units that week (about 50 were with the Pennis). I was a bit embarrassed (although Richard's comment was 'Good girl!') and those 'experts' were horrified, but I have lived to tell the tale and laugh about it. I would never be able to drink that much anymore- not only because I am a mum and don't really get drunk in the proper falling over/seeing double sense, but my body won't allow it. I'm getting older and I don't want wake up every day feeling like I've been attacked by a hungry baby walrus . I got that over-indulging bit of my life out of the way (well- with the booze- now I greedily slavver on expensive, Waitrose ingredients) and don't regret it. I had a liver check up about 2 years ago and it's fine. I think the nation needs something like alcohol to keep it feeling fruity, and it's down to the individual how much they choose to poison themselves. I just wish they'd stop trying to tell us the truth, because we already know it's bad for us, and maybe that makes the stuff just a little bit more appealing....
Soundtrack: Adam and the Ants- Goody Two Shoes
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Country Living and Coming off the wagon
God well I have already blown one of my new year's resolutions... to not drink for a month to see if it helps stop my IBS, bad periods, facial numbness and tendency to say completely the wrong things at the wrong moments to the wrong people(it doesn't look good after 24 hours of being on the wagon-I just get very moody and I'm not prepared to see what happens if I abstain for longer-there might be a murder...).
We are still in Devon enjoying rural life. Popped into a lovely little fairy lit pub on the way back from Somerfield today; we were enjoying our beverages by the light of the open fire, we played Dominoes and Hangman, and then the beardy landlord joined us. He started telling us about his little three year old girl (who had befriended Sadie while we were there) who nearly died as a baby of the flesh eating bug necrotising fasciitis and how she is lucky to be alive. He thinks she got it on the moors. It had left her with a third of her head missing. She was a very sweet girl and was enjoying having Sadie there to play with, but we soon downed our pints, left a tip and drove off as fast as we could. Well I mean- you can't be too careful.
It was like a Fast Show sketch only without the hilarity and with a little bit more nausea.
It's a funny time of year this- the anti climax after glitter, gifts and giddy aunts. Not a good time to be sober. This time last year we were looking forward to a five week trip to India. Now all we see before us is black skies, numb toes and the sales. I'm off to get more plonk and challenge Andy to a game of Scrabble while Sadie is watching Charlie and Lola. Well- what else is there to do?
Soundtrack: The Strokes- Is this it?
We are still in Devon enjoying rural life. Popped into a lovely little fairy lit pub on the way back from Somerfield today; we were enjoying our beverages by the light of the open fire, we played Dominoes and Hangman, and then the beardy landlord joined us. He started telling us about his little three year old girl (who had befriended Sadie while we were there) who nearly died as a baby of the flesh eating bug necrotising fasciitis and how she is lucky to be alive. He thinks she got it on the moors. It had left her with a third of her head missing. She was a very sweet girl and was enjoying having Sadie there to play with, but we soon downed our pints, left a tip and drove off as fast as we could. Well I mean- you can't be too careful.
It was like a Fast Show sketch only without the hilarity and with a little bit more nausea.
It's a funny time of year this- the anti climax after glitter, gifts and giddy aunts. Not a good time to be sober. This time last year we were looking forward to a five week trip to India. Now all we see before us is black skies, numb toes and the sales. I'm off to get more plonk and challenge Andy to a game of Scrabble while Sadie is watching Charlie and Lola. Well- what else is there to do?
Soundtrack: The Strokes- Is this it?
Monday, December 31, 2007
Happy New Year
ooo what a crazy week we've had with all the visiting people and drinking the contents of their fridges, and now we are in Devon with friends. The kids are playing beautifully, and as the pubs in this village are closed, we've decided to stay in and get merry. I've started early with my new year celebrations- I'm supping a lager shandy as I type (I like to party in style). Christmas was just as wonderful as we had hoped, with my first attempt at cooking goose being a major success, what with a bit of help from 'Blanc Christmas' and the December issue of Good Food Magazine. My 75 year old mother in law said it was the best meal she had eaten in her life and she's not even completely lost her marbles yet!
Sadie got so many presents it is disgusting. We are even plannning to move house to fit everything in. She turns 5 in a month and we are contemplating sending money to children's charities instead of getting her any more toys and trinkets. It would seem a bit mean in a way, but we shall see. A friend of hers at school has just moved over here from Korea and they had to give away all her toys when they moved, so maybe we'll sort some out to hand onto her. I'm sure Sadie could part with more than one of her now huge collection of eleven Barbie dolls. She has one in every nationality- there is even a blue one that looks like an alien to cater for extra terrestrial PC-ness.
Have a good one- I'm off to pour myself another glass of something fizzy and cold.
Soundtrack: I'm working on it..... it's difficult to hear what song is in my head when youi're sitting next to four children playing pool whilst listening to the demo on the very loud keyboard in the corner. For now my soundtrack appears to be a panpipe version of 'How Deep is Your Love' with the clattering of snooker balls as an accompaniment. I am going to escape before I have a migraine.
11:42pm: chosen soundtrack: Shannon-Let the Music Play
Sadie got so many presents it is disgusting. We are even plannning to move house to fit everything in. She turns 5 in a month and we are contemplating sending money to children's charities instead of getting her any more toys and trinkets. It would seem a bit mean in a way, but we shall see. A friend of hers at school has just moved over here from Korea and they had to give away all her toys when they moved, so maybe we'll sort some out to hand onto her. I'm sure Sadie could part with more than one of her now huge collection of eleven Barbie dolls. She has one in every nationality- there is even a blue one that looks like an alien to cater for extra terrestrial PC-ness.
Have a good one- I'm off to pour myself another glass of something fizzy and cold.
Soundtrack: I'm working on it..... it's difficult to hear what song is in my head when youi're sitting next to four children playing pool whilst listening to the demo on the very loud keyboard in the corner. For now my soundtrack appears to be a panpipe version of 'How Deep is Your Love' with the clattering of snooker balls as an accompaniment. I am going to escape before I have a migraine.
11:42pm: chosen soundtrack: Shannon-Let the Music Play
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
My favourite day of the year is here!!
If there is anyone out there weird enough to be reading this now- happy Christmas!! Hope you all have a good one. We are just about to go for a stroll along the bleary seafront and then I'm heading back here to get the goose in the oven before we head to the pub for one or three aperitifs! (now you are getting why I like this day so much- I get to drink in the middle of the day and it's not frowned upon...)
We were woken at 3.30am this morning by Sadie wanting to open her presents. When I persuaded her that it would be a much better idea to do it when mummy wasn't furious and was actually able to open her eyes and smile she soon settled down. Ten minutes later however, when she'd obviously been lying awake trying to dissect the plausibility of Father Christmas having actually been in the flat, along came the questions about how he got down the chimney when ours is blocked, how come the glass that had Santa's sherry in had now been washed up (she went to check) and why the wrapping paper poking out of the top of her stocking was the same as the presents that daddy had wrapped mine in. So there I was at around 4am today telling lie after lie to my daughter. I have to say, it didn't feel right, and I was tempted to blurt out that really Santa didn't exist, but I resisted and have kept the dream going. Another year, another giant fib. But what the hell- my parents lied to me for about 8 years about Santa and it hasn't screwed me up too much. (she says- having just signed up for another 6 months of psychotherapy)
I've just been listening to Classic FMs Christmas choices and I found myself blubbing to 'Once in Royal David's City', and I've just come in the bedroom to find Andy, on Christmas day, deeply engrossed in a copy of Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion'. How could he? Now I'm not a religious woman, but I have been in the past, and although I don't officially believe in any of that brainwashing, I like to pretend, like with Santa to Sadie, that perhaps there really was an amazing baby called Jesus and that there is nice cuddly man with a beard looking down on us and taking care of things. I only do this about once a year, or if someone I know is ill or has been involved in a serious accident, but it kind of works for me, as this is what Christmas meant when I was a nipper, being from a religious family and that. I took Andy and the mother in law to Christmas Eve mass yesterday and we kept giggling when they mentioned 'unmarried woman' and 'pregnant' and 'how can that be?'. It was a bit of a bells and smells church, the priest sang too loud and out of time, half of the carols were medieval, and the Santa they brought on for the kids at the end was rubbish- he looked anorexic and kept asking all the newborn babies what they wanted for Christmas. But no matter how naff and stupid and out of date it all is, I like to retreat back to my childhood on the 25th dec and believe in the unbelievable.
Soundtrack: Pipettes- A Winter's Sky
We were woken at 3.30am this morning by Sadie wanting to open her presents. When I persuaded her that it would be a much better idea to do it when mummy wasn't furious and was actually able to open her eyes and smile she soon settled down. Ten minutes later however, when she'd obviously been lying awake trying to dissect the plausibility of Father Christmas having actually been in the flat, along came the questions about how he got down the chimney when ours is blocked, how come the glass that had Santa's sherry in had now been washed up (she went to check) and why the wrapping paper poking out of the top of her stocking was the same as the presents that daddy had wrapped mine in. So there I was at around 4am today telling lie after lie to my daughter. I have to say, it didn't feel right, and I was tempted to blurt out that really Santa didn't exist, but I resisted and have kept the dream going. Another year, another giant fib. But what the hell- my parents lied to me for about 8 years about Santa and it hasn't screwed me up too much. (she says- having just signed up for another 6 months of psychotherapy)
I've just been listening to Classic FMs Christmas choices and I found myself blubbing to 'Once in Royal David's City', and I've just come in the bedroom to find Andy, on Christmas day, deeply engrossed in a copy of Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion'. How could he? Now I'm not a religious woman, but I have been in the past, and although I don't officially believe in any of that brainwashing, I like to pretend, like with Santa to Sadie, that perhaps there really was an amazing baby called Jesus and that there is nice cuddly man with a beard looking down on us and taking care of things. I only do this about once a year, or if someone I know is ill or has been involved in a serious accident, but it kind of works for me, as this is what Christmas meant when I was a nipper, being from a religious family and that. I took Andy and the mother in law to Christmas Eve mass yesterday and we kept giggling when they mentioned 'unmarried woman' and 'pregnant' and 'how can that be?'. It was a bit of a bells and smells church, the priest sang too loud and out of time, half of the carols were medieval, and the Santa they brought on for the kids at the end was rubbish- he looked anorexic and kept asking all the newborn babies what they wanted for Christmas. But no matter how naff and stupid and out of date it all is, I like to retreat back to my childhood on the 25th dec and believe in the unbelievable.
Soundtrack: Pipettes- A Winter's Sky
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Christmas Pudding Run!
We did it!! Rebs and I ran 5 miles yesterday morning, in the freezing cold wearing nothing but our running gear and our santa hats. We ran up slippery muddy hills and through sludgy fields but we loved it!! Oh how we laughed. We were amongst the last half of people through the finishing line (Rebs' new running friend became a man of about 90 who kept wheezing- she had to mentally run through her vague knowledge of first aid just to stop herself from panicking) but we don't care- we ran all that way and we survived!! It was actually rather hilarious, as we took so long to do the run compared to some of the professional tri-athletes and runners that when we were approaching the end, some cars were driving past us, already on their way home having finished half an hour ago! When I arrived at the line it was blocked with people milling about discussing which pub to go to for a ploughmans. I assume they thought "why is that ginger woman running towards us- the race finished ages ago". The marshalls had to lead me to the finishing post- I couldn't even see it through the crowds of people packing away. Ironically Andy and Sadie also weren't there to cheer me through one of my finest moments, as just at the crucial time of completion Sadie needed a number two. Bloody kids! So there was me, running around trying to actually find the finishing line with no one clapping for me! How tragic, but I feel smug and self-righteous now anyway. Plus I got half a glass of mulled wine (Rebs and I had to share as they had nearly run out, having quenched the thirst of the sprinters aeons ago) and a christmas pudding to take home. Ace. We shall definitely be signing up next year.
Soundtrack: Queen-Don't Stop Me Now /Survivor-Eye of the tiger (can't decide which I prefer but they both serve as cheesy background tunes to my day of glory)
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Posh nosh
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I am going doolally with all the socialising this christmas. There are still 5 days to go and I'm already looking forward to the bit afterwards where I don't have to do anything apart from work out where we are going to put all Sadie's new toys and how to get the goose fat off the roasting pan (to keep for gold dust roasted potatoes of course). Been up to London over the last 24 hours for dinner at Andy's brother's. We ate snails and foie gras and drank expensive red wine. I love going up to visit them despite travelling on a train with a hyperactive four year old. It's like going to a very exclusive French restaurant, only we don't have to pay and we get hugs from the hosts. It's Andy's birthday today and I took him for a delicious meal at Graze, on Western Road in Hove. I had celery, apple and chestnut soup followed by pork belly, black pudding and cassoulet. Andy can't remember what he had but he says it was good, and asks why am I writing all this down anyway- who is interested in what we had for lunch? Anyway Graze is bloody great and they do a lunchtime deal which means we ate in style for almost nowt. I'm off to bed early as I need to replenish my body before my big run on Saturday. Rebs has assured me that she runs like she's walking (as opposed to me who runs, walks a bit, runs, walks a bit, etc) so I think we will have a right laugh at ourselves and our uncoordinated techniques, and then feel very smug afterwards that we gave it all a go.
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