And on today's menu....

We're back from our Yorkshire adventure! We missed little Sadie lots -having said that, she's wimpering for me now when she should be dozing off and I'm going "ARGH! Please sleep!"- but she seemed to have a fab time in Sleepy Sleaford with her Narnie and Dad Dad. She's come back having learnt to rap- my dad really is quite a dude.
This week, Andy and I enjoyed luxurious BnBs (aside from the Royston Vasey-esque toothy woman we encountered in our first port of call 'Bottom House Farm' near Robin Hoods Bay), walking on the -spookily reminiscent of American Werewolf in London -misty moors towards our oasis of a cosy pub, eating pie in Heartbeat's Aidensfield Arms (we were very disappointed Gina wasn't working that night- only a couple of nice young Hungarian chaps who kept saying "WHAT?" to everything I said), sweating buckets in semi-nakedness at the mixed night at the Turkish Baths in Harrogate, charity-shop shopping for warm fluffy clothing in Pickering (see above pic of Andy sporting his choice of what looks like a dead rabbit on his head), spying on all the creepy goths who were hovering around the graveyard at Whitby Abbey in preparation for their Halloween celebrations, and discussing the life-preserving qualities of whisky (my 90 year old grandma swears by it) with two 87 year old Yorkshire men in Thirsk.

At our last BnB in Sinnington, run by Jane Otter, who practically became our cuddly great aunt while we were staying there, we sat up one night, like the pair of wannabe pensioners that we seem to be these days, with our long walks and early nights with a good book, reading Jane's collection of 'Christmas Crackers' - an assortment of anecdotes compiled by John Julius Norwich- whoever he is. He quoted some hilarious menu translations and here's the one that made me wet myself laughing:
(from a Polish menu): 'Salad a firm's own make; limpid red beet soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rashers beaten up in the country people's fashion.'
Brilliant.

Yorkshire Stripper

We are in Harrogate in a pub with limited wireless connection. It's very hot in here, despite being cold outside, so Andy has his top off. Will write soon with tales of Yorkshire .... keep reading.
p.s. hot tip: Alisdair Sawday's B+Bs are always a hit. check out http://www.sawdays.co.uk/

Ladies Only

Oh- yesterday turned out to be PMT by the way. God, since rapidly approaching, and then turning, 30 I've been feeling absolutely shit around this time of the month- anyone got any tips? I've been taking Agnus Castus every day for 2 months but still feel like I'm about to start the menopause for about 5 days before... hot flushes, exhaustion, mood swings, flu-like symptoms and paranoia ('plague of the pussies'? Cats are not that scary)... Small apology to any men reading this, but when a quarter of your life is taken over by this curse, it needs a mention. Incidentally, I have had to go over this last paragraph more than once to correct grammatical mistakes- the monthlies turn me clumsy and bad at spelling.
My antidote to this wretched day was to spend it drinking white wine and eating fish pie with 89 year old Dick (yes- Dick- my spelling is correct this time), Tamzin's mother in law. What a great woman. She told me all about her children's home that she and her husband ran many years ago overlooking Lake Windermere. She looked after 12 children, three of which were her own, who were between the ages of 7 days and 15 years. Puts me to shame even mentioning a gruelling day with my one kiddiwinkle, which I can be known to do, especially once a month.
I'm also going to see another amazing lady this weekend- we're off to my nan's (or Narnie Em as we call her) 90th!! - 90?!?- and there's me complaining about the physical symptoms of my third decade of life as a woman.. I'll shut up.

Soundtrack: Franz Ferdinand- What You Meant

Urgh

Oh shitey shite I'm fighting a coldy nauseous thing just before I go away on my Yorkshire holiday. Sod's Law will mean I'll spend the whole time in bed snivelling and not feeling like a tipple or even any nookie. What a waste. I suppose with Sadie at my mum's I can at least sleep uninterrupted, unless Andy insists on doing his usual and dragging me out of bed each day at some ungodly hour to do some "couple yoga" or a coastal hike ("Well- we've got to make the most of it while we haven't got Sadie...").
Bugger. Am off for a lie down. Ooops no- got far too much to do... best be off.

Plague of the Pussies

A few weeks ago now we woke up around 3am to the sound of a cat miaowing outside the door of our first floor flat. We've lived here for over two years and no one in our block owns a cat. We opened the door and a cute little cat ran around a bit and I threw it out the front door onto the streets, in the hope it would never want to come back. I love animals but someone out there wouldn't want their beloved Ginger becoming fond of me, plus Sadie was getting ideas about it becoming a member of the household. It kept coming back though. I often find it sitting outside our door, looking up at me with it's giant watery eyes, like Puss In Boots in Shrek, and it likes to strut around our flat in it's glittery collar (it's obviously very loved) for no apparent reason. I never stroke it, I never feed it. What it wants from us is a mystery.
Then tonight, whilst watching the Phil Spector documentary, I thought I heard the tinkling of a cat collar. I put it down to paranoia and also realised it might be a sound from the telly as the Ronettes would often use jingly bells in their background music. Then I heard it again. I opened our flat door and in ran another feline, of the black and white variety. I hissed it out, as it tried to scratch me every time I went to pick it up. What the bleeding hell is going on? I have never in two and a half years had a cat come up to my flat and now there have been two in a month! Something fishy's going on. Maybe it's my penchant for stuffing my face with Omega 3 rich oily finned things these days in the hope of growing some brain cells. Maybe the faint aroma of Poisson to these cats is like a kebab shop vent to a pissed bloke. They can't resist the draw of the odour of my tuna steaks and salmon parcels. At least I'm guessing that's the reason.
And how they get into the building is completely baffling us. All very weird and very halloweeny.

Soundtrack: Squeeze-Cool for Cats

Erratum slip already

Started my home study course today. It's the first time I've studied in ten years, unless you count the 9 months I practically did a PhD in pregnancy and childbirth through the amount of books I read. I grabbed a moment to read through the introductory notes, while Sadie was in her art corner being an imaginary teacher to her teddies. I sat down and read a couple of pages, and the next thing I woke up 20 minutes later wondering where I was. Obviously I was still on the sofa with my course notes on my lap. Rivetting stuff. Oh well- I hadn't had a cat nap for a while. Must have needed it after such a wild weekend. Plus the central heating was whacked up. Sorry Rachael. And as for copy editing and it's core credentials... don't ask me.

Soundtrack: Melanie Safka-Brand New Key (Andy's favourite tune)

Books and snuggles and Amy Winehouse

Gosh I appear to have been having a life and not been writing my blog for a few days. Must update you on my exciting daily habits forthwith:
Took Sadie to Brighton Jubilee Library on Friday afternoon to relax on the sofas and read her endless books. It was really lovely to snuggle her for a long time. At home it's easy to be with her but not really be with her. And she loves books my girl. And snuggles.
Friday pm I went to the Robin Hood pub (fab pub with board games and indie music) with the gorgeous Sarka and met up with the RADIANT Rachael and her crowd of merry male journos. Was very proud of myself as I went home at 11pm having had only 2 pints. I must be seriously under the influence of Alex James.
Saturday afternoon Andy, Sadie and I took the bikes to Shoreham to find a secluded beach in the surprisingly sunny October weather. We sat against the rocks watching the waves crash. Andy did a spot of exploring, while Sadie and I focussed on the smaller delights to be had on the East Sussex coastline and hunted for pretty shells. I then realised that there were only men on the beach, who were either strolling along or standing behind pillars and posts. Dotted along the back of the beach were closed wind shelters with the odd man going to visit them. We quickly realised we were in a gay cruising area and carried on collecting shells. Well, this is Brighton after all.
Sadie spent the night having a sleepover with her little mate Natasha, so Andy and I went to Lewes for a romantic stroll down the high street, a couple of glasses of red wine in the Harveys Brewery pub, and an Italian feast in Lazzati's (I opted for the spaghetti with chilli, olive oil and garlic, while Andy had the steak in mushroom sauce- both were delicious). We were in bed by 10.30pm, having discussed the possibility and hilarity of us getting married. We both fell asleep scowling, uncertain of what the evening's conversation topic meant to the two of us.
Sunday, today, is Joy's birthday celebrations and we've just been on the beach with her and a few pals enjoying the sun, a portion of chips and a pint. Geoff had a Bloody Mary before lunch which is outrageous. Dirty bugger.

Soundtrack: Amy Winehouse- You Know I'm No Good