Call That A Birthday Party?

Well I have officially been a real life 30 year old for over two weeks now and I have to say, it’s not half bad! The sun is shining, I am as unwrinkled as I was last month and though I don’t understand taxes any more than I did when I was 29, I suppose one can’t have everything.

One very positive perk of hitting this new age threshold was being called up for my first Covid jab, which was a decidedly jolly experience. I was met on reception by a lovely lady I went to Uni with (she even managed to squeeze TMM later that afternoon due to a cancellation, which just shows that it’s always good to have people on the inside), had a lovely chat with the very nice pair of nurses in charge of the jabbing and got complimented on my hair by 3 separate people. Thankfully, I didn’t even have any side effects (except for being absolutely starving afterwards) so I’m rather looking forward to getting the second one now.

I can quite happily say though, that the whole birthday experience has been utterly delightful, and I have been spoilt completely rotten. I received a fabulous selection of presents from a fabulous selection of people, including but not limited to: the most delightful homemade cloche hat (Mother is just too talented), multiple fancy pants pieces of jewellery (because I am a fancy pants lady), a DNA kit (which is really a present for the whole family – I am DESPERATE to discover something exotic), an upcoming walk with llamas and a veritable cornucopia of other delightful bits and bobs. I even managed to completely exemplify my age by getting what some may categorise as “too excited” when I opened my new DOUBLE LAYER DISH RACK courtesy of Papa H (though I got far too carried away with the tiny wrench that it had to be assembled with and TMM had to actually put it together). My dishes can now all dry in a beautifully sensible tetris formation instead of a dangerously risky jenga tower and I am HERE for it.

It looks even smaller in TMM’s bear hand

TMM of course spoilt me to the nth degree because of who is he is as a person. Alongside a disgusting amount of sweets, books and some beautiful earrings, he took me to a spa (which was completely splendid). We got half a day of hot stone rooms, cold plunge pools, a beach hut experience and delightful food, all nicely underlined with the phrase “I could do this more often” muttered repeatedly at each other. As I was reclining in the hot tub (which might honestly be one of my most favourite things to do), it became abundantly clear that I am going to have to pull my finger out and make some millions because I really need to live that that on the regular.

We did, in fact, have so much fun that I managed to convince TMM to get an ear piercing (I’m going to get him SO MANY DANGLY EARRINGS) whilst he was still soothed and then had to come home and have a nap before tea with TMM’s parents. Honestly, this life of Riley is very much the life for me.

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Look at us! Don’t we look decadent and well rested?

But ho! I hear you cry, surely that was it?

How foolish of you to say such things.

That was just one small section of my bountiful birthday bonanza. For the weekend just gone, I took Team to visit my family down in Wales (because I do like to keep all my loved ones in one place as much as possible) for what was ostentatiously a camping trip (but couldn’t really be categorised as one seeing as everything was already set up for us when we arrived – with bunting). I mean, I say “I took” when what I mean is I was driven in comfort and everyone got to wear party hats.

I enjoy these pictures for a multitude of reasons; specifically because TMM looks like the BFG in the front seat of Mrs Weasley the car, and he and Jonbles look like a same sex dad duo taking their over excitable daughters on a car trip.

After a good journey (which would have been made better if Jonbles had provided car sweets and was reminded of approximately ever 10 minutes) we made it across the border. We stopped firstly at The Neens’, where we got to sit outside and enjoy the glorious scenery and I finally got the chance to give out the last of my Christmas presents, which was good because it basically meant everyone got to to open something (which I like to secretly pretended was in honour of my birthday) and everything went down well. It also finally means I can start to share pictures of some of the things I made and have been waiting to gloat about.

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Neens was on top form as always, looking beautiful with her periwinkle hair, and I got to be deeply concerned at how grown up my not so tiny cousins are (I’m sure they were only about 5 before Covid hit, but they’re definitely what could only be classed as “young ladies” now). Mother arrived too and I got to play dress up in her homemade Kimono (honestly, she’s really pulling it out of the bag at the moment with her craft endeavours) and she finally got to meet Woo and Jonbles which was exciting for all. Considering they’ve all been friends on Facebook for years and they all have to hear about each other constantly from me, it was nice to actually see them in the same vicinity. Woo was incredibly excited (“it’s like meeting the Queen!”) and was on top form. Jonbles immediately impressed her with his Ravenclaw hoodie and overall I had to give everyone top marks for performance. It was just like that first time you take you partner to meet your parents and everyone’s mildly anxious and on their best form, only with about 10 people.

After a nice long chat and some tea and scones (because it has to be done), we then moved onto the H&J’s (auntie and uncle) to discover the most delightfully campsite ever. Tent already set up, camping toilet beautifully displayed, fairy lights galore and chickens available for hugs on demand. G (cousin the younger) had completely outdone herself, and I am outraged at myself for not taking a picture on arrival, though thankfully H had already documented the whole shebang.

10/10 – would camp here again

We settled down in the decadent outside seating area (with pizza oven) and spent the evening bonding and stuffing our faces with scrumptious food. It was so very very lovely to be able to sit around with them all again (with bonus friends) and just see people that I hadn’t seen for over a year. We were even treated to the most delightful and impromptu back porch session by Mikey, Dave and Edd (uncle, uncle, cousin the older) who are all ridiculously talented and had a folk music video that needed to be made (oh what a shame). Is there anything nicer than sitting in the sun with a bevvy listening to live music? You’ll be hard pressed to convince me otherwise.

As the evening progressed, we were got to sample to the specially curated “Curious Month of Mai Tai” cocktail as devised by Edd in honour of the event; a fabulously neon blue concoction that made my eyebrows sweat a little, and a martini that I’m pretty sure meant my breath could have stripped paint from 20 paces. I think it says something quite positive about good healthy Welsh Air that we were all shamefully sozzled by 3am and yet up and hangover free by 8am the next day.

These pictures are made even better when you realise everyone is completely sober in the 2nd and 3rd…

Even the weather decided to join in and after a few brews and a stonking fry up breakfast in the sunshine, we all went for a jaunt in the countryside, where there was much oohing and aahing over lovely local cottages and the standard sticky bud warfare that always happens on these kind of things. We even ended with the classic “lunge pose” which everyone dove into with much vigour.

Sadly though, as all good things must do, it had to come to an end and I nearly managed to make it through all goodbyes without shedding a single tear. Obviously I wasn’t quite successful and treated Team to an up front seat of me clinging to Neens like a small child and weeping pitifully, but they were very supportive about it and I managed to rein it in once we were underway.

I am pleased to say though the whole operation was an unmitigated success and I am now 100% convinced Woo and Jonbles could just turn up at any family doorstep and be welcomed with open arms, despite having me in tow or not. It bodes well for future parties at any rate. I think my 30th year has been celebrated as well as it could have been, and I have high hope for the rest of the year. We just need to get planning something for TMM’s now…

Variations on a Theme

Well as promised, I can confirm that we Themed Hard (please notice the capitalisation) at the weekend in honour of the Halloween Holidays. The Scooby Doo idea was an undeniable success and I think you’ll all be pleased with our faithfulness to the original course material. We can proudly say that it’s not just the costumes that make it, but the overall effort and vigour with which we throw ourselves into the whole debacle. Most of you will have seen the images and videos on various social media platforms, however I’ve done a tiny montage below for those of you who haven’t (and because I do love a good montage).

I was quite chuffed to have only spent about £8 on my outfit overall (it’s handy when Velma actually is life and most of her wardrobe is items you already own), though I have to admit to being a tad concerned at how happy I was with the brown wig (I think I was basically just recreating my mum from the 80s). To be honest though, I think we all looked rather special in it. It was an excellent night overall; Wilson’s house was decorated beautifully (so much delightful Halloween bunting) and they plied us with homemade chicken tikka wraps, vegetable lasagne and gins of various flavours.

Considering how much I hate drama and the thought of being up on stage in front of people though, I bloody love dressing up. There’s something so childishly gleeful about wearing something you normally wouldn’t, or trying make up techniques you’ve seen on YouTube and fancy a bash at. I had a couple of memories come up on Facebook over the week detailing my previous struggles with make up and albums full of hilarious decorated drunken selfies, so it’s good to know that nothing’s changed.

I feel like my attempts have been slightly more successful this time round though, however it’s more than possible that’s due to the fact I haven’t actually got to pick one for a party.

This isn’t our first rodeo though. As a team, we have themed hard over the past few years. I like to think it runs in the family (early memories from my childhood include seeing my parents dressed up for the Rocky Horror Picture Show – my dad looks fantastic in a basque and heels you’ll be glad to know), and I’ve cultivated this ability in my friends.

Alice in Wonderland was possibly one of first themes that we really made the effort for. Granted we’d done similar gatherings prior to that (Mexican night was our first official foray into the world of fancy dress parties – mainly everyone had a paper print out poncho and culturally insensitive moustaches) but this was when we really started to pull our collective finger out. Woo let us all pile into her tiny flat dressed as the main cast (we had an Alice, the Red Queen, the Cheshire Cat, the March Hare, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum and then Jonbles stuck a piece of paper to his hoodie that said “Eat Me” because tragically it took him a year or so to really get into the swing of things) and ply each other with dangerously strong cocktails (read – vodka and fruit juice) poured out of teapots. The whole night could really be summed up by the tag line “great costumes and bad ideas”; a couple of teapots down we were trying to cram two of us into a single pair of skiing salopets, which as I am sure you can summarise, ended terribly. Woo and I crashed to the floor in dramatic slow motion and although I didn’t come off too badly, I am pretty sure Woo’s knees were never the same again. TMM made a fabulous March Hare though he did insist on taking his shirt off and just wearing his waistcoat about ten minutes in.

*Side note – this is a recurring feature of both our fancy dress parties and indeed general life. TMM is reminiscent of a little boy; he often gets too hot too quickly and resorts to immediate stripping. At parties he usually limits himself to just his top, but at home it’s fair game and the other day I was in complete fits of hysteria when he stood, completely stripped to his boxers and then fell asleep upside down on the couch within a ten minute time frame.*

The joy of TMM’s chosen activity though is that it reveals his magical chest dimp (a curious little cream egg sized dip in his rib cage) and we all have to do shots from it – because why would you not. To be honest, we have tamed down a little in our old age and the chest shots have taken a slight downturn in regularity, but I think it’s more due to the fact we all struggle to kneel down as easily now. #rockandroll

We had a 1920’s poker night that similarly could be described as a party full of fabulous looking people who made some very suspicious life choices. There were sumptuous dresses, sparkly headbands and splendid suits (with tiny pencil moustaches) galore. TMM obviously took his shirt off as soon as humanly possibly (he said it was because he’d spilt something on it but I don’t know how much I believe this) and spent the rest of the night in just his braces. I started well but then mainly proceeded to make an absolute shambles of myself. After drinking far too much far too quickly, I threw up atrociously and had to be stripped (I made an impassioned plea to all present that if I was to throw up, my strapless emerald velvet dress had to be saved – they rallied round superbly and within seconds of threatening to hurl I was down to my tights). I ended up knelt on the kitchen floor hunched over a sick bowl wearing the Drunken Dressing Gown of Shame. (There are similar pictures of various other team members in pretty much exactly the same position in various kitchens wearing the very same gown). The evening ended with me burritoed up against the living room radiator between George and the dog (who kept trying to eat out of the sick bowl).

We enjoyed other nights of drunken dressed up revelry, including Under the Sea which provided a lot of variety (we had a mermaid, a scuba diver and Jonbles, who told us he was a jelly fish but basically stuck a plastic shopping bag to his head and looked like a washed up condom. That night somehow ended up with everyone absolutely covered in sparkly blue make up that took most of the next day to scrub off. There was also Rocky Horror (a classic that TMM fully committed to – he looks equally as good as my dad in the basque), Eurovision (please pursue previous posts for photographic evidence of TMM being the prettiest lady you have ever actually seen), If We Were Super Heroes (I was Marsh Lady – using my clammy palms to save the world and TMM was General Kitchener and had a bandolier made of utensils – Woo still has our ladle) and If We Were Each Other. That was a truly hilarious night which involved a couple of quick changes for the photo opportunities, fake beards, boys in skirts and poor George coming out in hives when we made him dress up in my fur coat to be the dog.

The highlight of our whole career was, undoubtedly, the Addams Family. Jonbles went from reluctant participant to the most immersed (he let us shave him complete bald for Uncle Fester) and I really feel every one of us looked our absolute best. As is usually the way with these things, minimal effort was really required (except the shaving of Wild Yeti Man Jonbles) for maximum effect.

As is the way with most of these events though, the days after took a bit of recovering. This year was, I misguidedly thought, going to be different. With a good stodgy meal in me and only a couple of gins, I expected to be bright eyed and bushy tailed on the Saturday morning. Instead, I woke up with what seemed to a railroad spike straight through my temples and had to make a couple of unplanned trips to the bathroom to throw up unattractively. I am still convinced Wilson spiked me, because it’s either that or my ability to deal with alcohol has apparently completely vanished (is this what growing up feels like?). I was forced to spend the whole day on the couch buried under the duvet pathetically and binge watch the new Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (the Teenage Woke as TMM has taken to calling her) and lamenting that my house was not as witchy and my hair not as wavy.

I did eventually recover though, and I’ve now only got a week and a bit now until it’s time for the work do. As previously mentioned, having it so late is causing mild confusion for everyone concerned, but it does give me more time to practice putting on false eyelashes (which is 100% the work of the Devil, I don’t care what anyone says). It will most likely be the last theme of the year (so sad! I hear you cry) but I have high hopes for next year (Wizard of Oz anyone?) and I’ve still got a few late nights of make up trials in me yet.

A Month in the Life of a HalloKween

It’s just a mini blog this week chaps, a blogette if you will, because TMM and I have managed to snag a few days off work and consequently have been cramming in as much adventure as possible, leaving little time for hardcore blogging. I’ve been writing snippets here and there during car journeys and tea breaks, but overall I can’t promise too much content.

Mainly though, I just wanted to make you all aware that Halloween is coming. HALLLLLOOOWEEEEEENNNNNN BIZNITCHES.

I’m sure you may have noticed in your own time and probably couldn’t give a tiny ghost rat’s ass, but I think it’s important to just make you all fully aware that My Time is here. Considering I am highly anxious and do not enjoy gore or horror at all (this week’s post is brought to you by the words squeamish and wimp), you’d think this somewhat counterintuitive, but this commercialised, wildly varying and completely subjective attitude we have as a society to this particular holiday is right up my street.

We have previously discussed my joy of pumpkins but it’s getting serious now; it’s the annual TMM family pumpkin carving party this weekend and I’m slightly panicked because I haven’t researched at all sufficiently and this is very much a “go big or go home” kind of event. Last year set the precedent and I’ve already had to shout at TMM for discussing ideas with his mum (or fraternizing with the enemy as I’ve taken to calling it).

TMM has already a little practice session though.

We’ve not had anymore time to make any more tasty pumpkin delights though, much to my chagrin, and seemingly all local super markets have stopped stocking canned pumpkin puree the moment I showed an interest in it. I’ve got a recipe from a friend for Pumpkin Spiced Cookies though, which I am absolutely bloody desperate to try, so there’s going to be a pumpkin puree hunt at some point.

Let’s be honest here though, the main reason I’m excited is because I freaking love dressing up like some kind of trashy 80s drama kid and there is no other festive holiday that is so accepting of that. I’ve already had a go at three make up options for no other purpose other than because I wanted to, and I’m hoping to have a go at a couple more before the month is out. I’m theming it up at work with two other ladies (our actual office Halloween celebration isn’t until Nov 9th which has which has thoroughly confused my system; but the costume is already ready) and I’ve already got nearly everything sorted for our team Scooby Doo soiree tomorrow. Fred just needs his ascot and there’s a couple of sets of dog ears that need tending to, but I can already tell we’re going to look excellent. The trouble is though, neither of those themes involve much overdramatic make up or lashings of fake blood, so I’ve had to amuse myself just a little to get the standard Halloween fix.

Just some casual Halloween looks.

It’s not just me though, the Halloween spirit has overtaken us all – TMM is smashing through his horror reading list like an absolute demon. (I think he’s found his reading niche). We bought a copy of The Haunting of Hill House to finish his month on a bang after binge watching the telly show over about 3 nights – which was fine up until the point TMM fell asleep half way through and then suddenly woke up and tried to throw his arm at me, yelling incoherently. Turns out he’d been lying on his front and had trapped his arm which had, understandably, gone numb and twitched slightly, but I am not above admitting I momentarily thought he was possessed and was fully prepared to smother him with a pillow. We’ve been very much in the zone though (minor possession fears aside). We’ve already watched Beetlejuice and decided most definitely that we are Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin (who’s butt was so much better than I ever remember it being) and have got Hocus Pocus to watch tonight. TMM has also introduced me to various new morbidly fascinating podcasts centring round the Salem Witch Trials (Unobscured by Aaron Mahnke), various horrifying folk tales and urban legends (Lore, also by Aaron Mahnke) and mysterious deaths in Norway (Death in Ice Valley by BBC World Service and NRK). Just a little light October bedtime listening.

Overall though, I think we’ve Halloweened pretty well, and that’s not too shabby considering there’s still a week to go…

Springtime for Ebears (and TMMs)

It’s just going to be a quick blog this week, dear readers, but try not to be disheartened. In my quest for topics over the past few days, I’ve been given/come up with a couple of rather good ideas for future posts, meaning that even though this one might be lacking, you’ve got lots of things to look forward to.

 (I’ve also been UNHEALTHILY OBSESSED with “Feel It Still” by Portugal and find myself typing the lyrics to that automatically when trying to write anything, so you might just get that at some point. #sorrynotsorry).

There does seem to be rather a lot going on at this time of year though, and there is a somewhat frantic air of preparation everywhere I go. Spring, although not quite sprung yet (gosh darnit) is on the horizon and the promise of lighter evening, fluffy lambs and not having to wear 2 pairs of thick sock all the time is a pleasant balm for my soul. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, someone that could be defined as a “winter” person. I get very angry when cold (like hangry, only temperature related) and can often become enraged if not continually swaddled in numerous blankets. I remember one particular occasion when we went team camping in early May. It was pretty wet and windy for most of the day and we all retreated to bed rather early. After all getting rather hysterical and falling asleep like children, I woke up completely furious and almost spitting with rage when it turned out the air bed had gone down and the cold had seeped in. Despite wearing about 48 layers, being in a sleeping bag the size of a small space craft and surrounded by four other people I was absolutely freezing. It might not surprise you to know we gave up on that holiday rather earlier than anticipated (and perhaps not unexpectedly, one of the lads has never come camping with us again).

I just do not thrive in chilly climes and feel that everything would be better if it were warmer and lighter all the time. Admittedly, I don’t do too much better when hot (I get sweaty and lazy and flump about like a giant clammy caterpillar) – there really is only a small grouping of temperature where I’m truly happy. Still, I’m definitely ready to be too warm rather than too cold now, and could do with everything just hurrying itself along. Snow and frost is all very well and good for about two days. After that it loses its charm and unless I can view it safely from my comfy chair near the radiator, I am firmly “not about it”. 

We’re entering the dying months of winter now though, and with The Almanac guiding us gently through the turbulent ravages of these final moments, things are starting to look up. TMM has hoed the garden beds (somewhat frivolously as he gets bored with weeding rather quickly) and the seed potatoes are sprouting rather terrifyingly on the windowsill. There’s buckets full fruity promise (strawberries, chillies and tomatoes) and at this rate, we shouldn’t need to buy vegetables until autumn.

“Oh, the barnyard is busy in a regular tizzy,
And the obvious reason is because of the season
Ma Nature’s lyrical, with her yearly miracle
Spring, Spring, Spring”

The bright sunshine and long afternoons still seem rather far away though, and poor TMM seems to have developed the winter death virus that’s going round with ardour. After spending most of last week valiantly trying to hack up a lung and going to bed at about 7pm complaining of weak limbs and aches, it all came to a head at the weekend. Not only did we have a super Lazy Saturday in an attempt to try and help him recover (TMM leaked noxious fluids out of every face orifice and knocked back Covonia like it was going out of fashion, we both napped through the rugby and I didn’t put trousers on all day) Action Sunday was cancelled after a trip to Asda proved to exhaust all of the poor boy’s energy resources. His adorably sulky little face as he sat on the couch, lamenting his inability to take any good photos of nature/breathe without sounding like Darth Vader, only perked up after I made him watch the Lone Ranger (Armie Hammer is a rather stunning chap) and two of the Pirates of the Caribbean films. He’s on the road to recovery now though, cheering his way happily through Bullseye (he’s actually 70) as I type.

It’s for the best really, because I don’t think I make the most supportive nurse. Our attitudes to sickness survival are diametrically opposed which can make sympathy a little difficult to share. I am of the mind-set that when poorly, one should always try to take time off for recovery and douse up to the eyeballs with all the medication available. TMM comes from a much more robust family (his attitude to sickness and pain is oddly reminiscent of the Blank Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail) and tried to muscle on through the phlegm, shivers and dizzy fits. I also am completely useless at caring for myself most of the time, and as such surely can’t be expected to sufficiently look after anyone else. How we didn’t starve is beyond me.

He’s mostly back on full form though this week, which means I don’t feel too bad about leaving him for the annual work’s conference this Friday. I am usually not one for enforced partying/work related fun/anything where people might want to talk to me, but I am actually feeling rather positive about this one. I’ve spent all week tanning and breaking in my new heels (how people where fancy heels on a daily basis astounds me) and only have packing to do now before we go. I haven’t actually settled on an outfit yet (and probably won’t until about 15 minutes before we go down for the meal and my room mate makes an executive decision on my behalf) and I’m still a little touchy about the awkward life choice I made regarding my hair cut (shaved side panels are all well and good when your hair is a little longer and you look a bit edgy. When it’s already short, you (meaning me) end up looking a bit like a horsey faced butch lesbian. Which is fine if that what’s you’re going for. It is not, however, what I was going for). Alas, there isn’t much that can be done at this stage except lots of screwing my eyes up whilst lying in bed and willing my hair to grow faster. Worse things do happen at sea though, and I’ve definitely had far worse looks (shout out to that time my mum cut my hair with a migraine and ended up making me look like a jellyfish). With enough lippy and a shot of tequila I won’t even remember the hair and will inevitably be found on the dance floor grooving embarrassingly to My Humps by Fergie. And if that’s not something for you to tune in and read about next week, I don’t know what is.

To be honest, I might just go with this look. I think it works for me.

Creepin’ It Real for One Whole Year

I’m a little late in posting today, but I’m sure you’ll let me off. Halloween is a busy time of year for everyone (read: nutters who love to dress up) and the tidying up and facial cleaning can take a while.
Before we get into the dark and twisted details of my All Hallows’ Eve (get ready for some blow by blow accounts and a really unhealthy amount of pictures) I’d like to take a minute to wish you all Happy 1 Year Blogiversary! As of last Wednesday, my blog is officially one year old and I would like to be the first to congratulate you all for sticking with me. It’s been a semi regular and somewhat bumpy ride, but we’ve done it together and that’s what counts. If I were one of those excitable and committed types, I’d be offering the first 5 people who comment some kind of reward as a little bonus, but as it’s me you’re mainly going to get what you get every week – a like on your comment and a little internal squee.

On to the main event now though – Welcome to Halloween Time!

Sadly, we don’t have any team plans this year (I’ve been assured it’s because we’re all poor and in the middle of moving/decorating or other such life tasks, and NOT because we’re all too grown up and sensible for themed fancy dress parties) so I’m a little put out in that regard, but I’ve not let it hold me back too much.

This weekend TMM’s sister invited us to the newly created yearly tradition of The Pendlebury Pumpkin Party, which went down a storm. We got to traverse a maize maze to pick our own pumpkins (I got two because I couldn’t help myself), carve our competition entries and then enjoy a home made stew and dumplings. Baby Thea looked spectacular in her pumpkin outfit and inveigled her way into the pumpkin parade very sneakily. I think Jenbob was slightly miffed that Papa Pendlebury won with his Brain Sick pumpkin (though it turned out that he’d already been practicing in the week prior – never let it be said they’re not a competitive family), but he wore his homemade Pumpkin Garland of Champions with pride which did have us in hysterics. I’d give the whole day a solid 5 stars and am going to start researching ideas for next year now.

The Pumpkin Parade

Trick Or Treat Yo’Self

Pendleburys’ on the prowl

Tonight, in true anti social and British fashion, we’ve retreated upstairs and turned the light off so as not to attract any unwanted trick or treaters. It’s not that I’m against the practice necessarily, more that I resent giving away my hard earned sweets to unknown “youths”.

Instead, I’ve overcompensated on my lack of party plans and seasonal spirit by going a bit hysterical at work.

Thankfully, I work in an office that, whilst not being my dream career, are willing to have a bit of a laugh and let me dress up occasionally. Admittedly however, I do think we may have gone slightly overboard this time round. Initially nobody really seemed to be very motivated by the idea of dressing desks and I was prepared to let the holiday pass by. However, after some pointed comments by the higher ups, there started the low mumbling of ideas and teams started to huddle sneakily in corners discussing themes. By the end of the week, complete Halloween chaos reigned and things were getting competitive. We spent 3 days cutting out hundred of bats to paper the walls with and buried everything in mountains of cobwebs. I gave myself numerous paper cuts making a full size terrifying tree and haunted house silhouette for the window and we even printed out hilariously witty and personalised grave stones to go on our laptops. Admittedly, when it was revealed that we LOST the best dressed desk competition, I very nearly flipped my chair in an uncontrollable rage and had to be calmed with a kinder bueno and the whispered promise that our desk was loved by all. My delicate and easily bruised artistic temperament cannot take such affronts, but I’m coming to terms with it now. As someone said, ours was so good it was beyond any trivial award, so I’m letting this one slide.

LOOK! Just look at the craftsmanship that’s gone into that

As well as desk decoration, I have once again been maddeningly enthralled by the opportunity to dress up myself. As per EVERY time I have a fancy dress engagement, I have to spend at least a week prior furiously pinteresting ideas and watching how to videos on YouTube. This is then typically followed by a week of panicking because I can’t find/make the exact item/prop I want that would complete my idea and then at least 2 nights in front of the mirror trialling out various options and inevitably having at least two breakdowns. Considering that I only usually end up wearing the costume for 6 hours at the most, it could be considered slight overkill. This time has been no different. I started with 4 ideas (cracked doll, sugar skull, Cheshire Cat, pop art), narrowed it down to 2 (doll and pop art) decided I’d go for a completely different one altogether (fish hooked mermaid) bought all the stuff for that and then had a complete meltdown at the length of my hair and ended up being a bleeding mime instead. Whatcha’ gonna do?

TMM dealt with the whole event very calmly as he does, and only had to talk me through one weeping fit (personal growth!) which is good. He is probably very secretly pleased that it’s all over now and he doesn’t have to listen to me stomping about in the bathroom muttering furiously to myself and avoiding fake blood scabs stuck on every surface. I however, am a little sad that I’ve got to put away the face paint and FX make up for another year. It might have been challenging getting there, but the outcome wasn’t so bad.
And so, we turn the page on Halloween for another year and prepare to batten down the hatches and hunker through the complete Christmas chaos that is about to be unleashed. When one festive season finishes, another prepares to panic you blind…

Halloween – Hijinks Galore

So this morning found me chillin’ at the bus stop in full Morticia Addams regalia. Long black wig, masses of face paint and a full length dress (with beautiful lace sleeves dutifully sewn on by my own personal Gomez). A pretty standard affair if I’m honest.

This is actually an outfit I’ve rocked before, circa Team Halloween Party 2014. We kitted ourselves out rather fantastically as the Addams Family – including an ironically short Lurch, The Thing (a full black morph suit minus one glove) and Uncle Fester who started the day as a very beardy man and ended it as clean-shaven completely bald one.

    One for the family album

A bromance to last the test of time

She’s an old faithful though, and a character that I’m happy to embody time and time again – I love everything about Morticia and her Family and will not hear a negative word said against them. A close-knit and supportive group; they are paragons of the family life we should all be aiming for. Encouraging of children and their hobbies, welcoming to strangers – even those who don’t agree with the lifestyle, and unafraid to be passionate about each other, I would challenge anyone to find a better bunch of role models out there.

Speaking of joyous Halloween themes, Day of the Dead is another one I am completely for. The physicality alone draws me to it but what can be more lovely that dressing up in a fashion that honours a festival where family and friends gather together to remember lost loved ones and celebrate their lives?

Todays’ montage is brought to you by the number “6” and the adjective “drunk”. I mean who doesn’t love bright face paint and homemade flower crowns?

The more you look at it, the more it seems that true romantics should look to celebrate Halloween as the festivity of love, rather than bloody (and I use the term in it’s literal sense) Valentine’s Day.

Sod Romeo and Juliet, and don’t even get me started on the Joker and Harley Quinn. Give me a love like Morticia and Gomez any day. 

Farewell for now, Cara Mia.