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So we made a table this week (also a new blog title box).

Not too shabby is it?

It’s really not a secret that we enjoy a nice bit of DIY here and there and have a lot of willingness, if not quite as much ability, but we’re pretty proud of this one. For less that £20 (the cost of a piece of dowel and a mitre block), we managed to wrangle together a nice little lamp table for down by the arm chair; bringing not only light but a touch of homemade class to the surrounding area. Or something like that anyway.

We have gone a bit interior design crazy recently; I’m blaming our binges of Queer Eye, Pinterest home improvement boards and a promoter on Instagram who has purchased the most beautiful Victorian house somewhere down south and is doing it up live via her story feed. Renting means we are somewhat constricted in regards to making any grand changes (new walls and new floors are a no-no, much to my chagrin), but we’ve been upgrading our furniture and rearranging everything with truly gay abandon.

Our new sofa was delivered last week, coinciding nicely with a few days that I had taken off to use up the remainder of my holiday allowance. Admittedly, I could have arranged it slightly better, and there was some serious couch Tetris required when it dawned on us that the new sofa was coming on Thursday but the old one wasn’t being picked up until Friday. Still, it went better than could be expected and my slight and irrational fear that the sofa delivery men were all going to be serial killers was pleasingly unfounded. Both sets of men were in and out in less time than it took to complete a Stevie Wonder song (though all made a point of complimenting my blues and soul playlist which was nice) and the guys who delivered the new one even had little shower cap like booties to protect our carpets from their shoes. By lunch time on Friday, everything was settled (Bucky was pleased – he’d been pacing the hallway in a most perturbed fashion for two days) and I was even able to put back a couple of the shelving units I’d been painting in between bonding with delivery men.

I am actually quite proud of myself for those few days off. I painted, I did as much laundry as humanly possible and folded all the dry clothes like a full on grown up. We did get rid of an appalling amount of clothes the other weekend in an attempt to downsize by a wardrobe; I don’t even understand how we ended up with so much. We were harsh though and said goodbye to about 5 millions big bags worth stuff that has now gone to charity, and TMM dismantled an old rickety Ikea wardrobe with glee. We do now have a lovely system (shirts, cardigans and dresses in the wardrobe, pants and socks in wardrobe boxes and t-shirts, trousers and jumpers in the chest of drawers. We have one drawer completely dedicated to knitwear and it’s possibly the most pleasing thing my 90 year old heart has ever seen.

This is me upon our MOUNTAIN of clothes

Admittedly, I did also spend a lot of time lay about watching White Collar (a great series, especially if one is contemplating a life of crime in the art world which I often am) and only cried once which I think is high point for my mental state. We even treated ourselves to a showing of Much Ado About Nothing at the local theatre (our excuse is that it is a present to each other for our upcoming anniversary) on Friday night, so I’m classing the whole period as a success.

We’re not doing too badly in the living room though, and I think we’re actually starting to get something we like (after 5 years of being there). TMM has created a new book nook in the corner and put together a new mantle display, in order to best present our new plant obsession. They were supposed to be spread around the house, but I feel like they’ve gotten attached to each other now, so we’re going to have to get new ones for the bathroom. What a shame. Nothing’s died yet though, and I’ve been following Monty Don’s clear guidelines of watering once a week and misting regularly. I even have a little watering can and old fashioned perfume bottle full of water and plant food.

Here we have ZeeZee (in book corner) and then Diefenbaker, Spikey McGee and Peacious Lilious enjoying a little misting on the mantle.

The urge to make the table took TMM somewhat by surprise I think though, and I was powerless to resist his eager charm. He’s been moving light sources around like a madman; every time I come in there’s a lamp in a new place and after deciding the little lamp he’d put together himself (god he’s clever) he told me resolutely that we needed a table to put it on. He rescued the rusting paella dish from the greenhouse where it was to be repurposed as a bird feeder (sorry birds) and after a quick trip to Homebase, he was raring to go. There was much pontificating about “measuring twice, cutting once” because we are well aware of our inability to be patient and plan things through properly, and we ended up 3 slightly wonky legs (we are hopeless). I was in charge of decoration (TMM does not have the steady hand required for a good paint job) and proceeded to do the very thing I shout at TMM for constantly – slap the paint on whilst still dressed in my civilian clothes. I managed to remain unsplattered though, and even did a fancy bit of striping work with some masking tape (Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen eat your heart out – and yes I know how dated that reference is). Admittedly it’s probably not quite up to Ikea standards, but it’s fit for purpose and kept us out of trouble for an evening so I’m taking it as a win.

Please enjoy this step by step photo montage of the table making process. It looks terribly professional, doesn’t it?

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No Rest for the Wicked or Seasonally Challenged

Well hasn’t this just been a busy old month? Apparently the extra week in January has allowed me to cram as much stuff as I possibly can in without realising it, and I can firmly say having a delayed payday really drags the whole thing out. I don’t think we’re quite at the ‘eating beans for every meal’ stage just yet, but I am definitely ready for this month’s wage packet. Admittedly, we probably haven’t helped ourselves purchasing not only a new Dyson but also a new sofa (the most grown up things ever). However, although it is outgoings that we could have maybe done without, I am pretty positive about them because not only did we get everything on sale (and cheaper than we thought to boot) but I was hella grown up and asked pertinent and sensible adult questions because I am a Boss. Even TMM was impressed with my polite but no nonsense attitude. I’m not actually too sure how long that will last when I actually have to be home to let the delivery men bring the sofa in, but as Woo pointed out, I won’t actually be expected to do anything other than open the door and stay out of their way, so hopefully everything will be fine.

I have fallen pretty lucky though, and really shouldn’t be complaining about the apparent millieum length of January. Due to some jammy holiday accrual, I managed to wangle a week off right in the middle (Mother’s birthday – it’s now tradition that we go and stay with her for week) as well as a couple of spare days here and there that are still to look forward to over the coming months.

The holiday itself came hot off the tail of the works conference down in “that Lundun”, which I have to say was probably the best one yet. Working for a global company does mean that you get some perks – one of which is they basically pay for you to go and have a big party to celebrate how everything’s gone in the previous year. Despite working there for nearly 5 years, this is only actually my third conference as I deemed myself to be far too anxious and mental for the first two. The company have really upped their game this time round though and I’m glad I went. Approx 2000 people converged on Battersea Power Station (sans the flying pigs) in their best frocks and suits for a bang up meal and as much free wine/beer as they could handle. Our office travelled down on Thursday, split over the office supplied coach (which was free so my obvious first choice) and the personally supplied train (which you had to pay for so wasn’t even considered), and those of us travelling on style on the coach enjoyed some good old fashioned games of eye spy and a sing a long. We arrived at our hotel at about 3.30ish and bundled up to our room, believing we had plenty of time for prinks and prep. (Spoilers, we had slightly less time than anticipated and barely made it through by the skin of our teeth).

We scrubbed up pretty well though!

Still, we made it to the venue with plenty of time to spare and stocked up nicely on the free bellinis whilst gawping at the pretty awesome scenery. There isn’t really much more to tell from the night itself; we were all very well behaved. There was lots of dancing, a few selfies with Radio 1’s Greg James and everyone commented repeatedly on how much they liked the meal. We were even back at the hotel at a decent time, though we did order dominoes and didn’t actually go to bed until 2.30am (I shared a room with two of my team and we ended up tucked up in two pushed together single beds singing Three Little Bears). The journey back was a tad more subdued, but nobody threw up or cried which I’m taking as a win, and after finishing in the office I was able to go home, nap hard and pack for the week in Wales.

God we are cute

Sadly Mother’s house is still somewhat in disarray, and much to my chagrin she is proving resistant to my idea that we sign her up to DIY SOS. I am convinced that between the freezing internal temperatures (I don’t care what she says, 13 degrees inside is not balmy), exposed floors and lack of a functional shower in the house, we could have Nick Knowles knocking at the door in no time, but she remains unconvinced. We were going through various fancy home magazines and dog earring the corners of everything we like though, so it’s a definite step in the right direction.

However, we still had a splendid time (as we always do) and it might even be for the best that it’s so cold, because if her house was warm I really would have no reason to ever leave it again. We were very helpful whilst we were there though (or so I like to think), and got involved in all kinds of tasks. We blitzed the workshop like absolute demons and managed to not only arrange everything better, we got rid of about 3 bin bags of rubbish, a couple of charity bags, found some jumpers we’d all forgotten we had, and thankfully didn’t find any rodent corpses hidden behind any of the racks. I did however sneeze very dramatically all over the place and got terribly snotty, once again proving that I am deathly allergic to cleaning. We also made some great progress with Mother’s build up of Christmas decorations (considering she hasn’t been able to decorate for about 3 years, she’s got an excessive amount), and in style of Netflix’s very own Maria Kondo (“but does it spark joy?”) managed to downsize to only 4 small cases and 1 big one box.

Mother and I also spent the afternoon making a Christmas Bauble Wreath (read – Mother did and I just sat next to her making helpful suggestions and smashing bits of bauble up happily), and I am definitely classing this as my first craft installment because I have literally fallen at the first hurdle on that front and am already behind on my craft blog schedule. TMM managed to get through about 3 books so he was in his element and once again it was very clearly indicated to us that we are definitely made for the leisurely lifestyle of retirement in the country. We didn’t hold up quite as well on leaving this time as perhaps we have before; I cried whilst Mother was making us packed lunches, she cried when I hugged her, we all went to the shop to get some final bits and then bawled unashamedly in the car park for a while before setting off. I managed to pull myself together by Aberystwyth though and by the time we got home I’d only teared up twice more so that’s good.

There’s still plenty to do though and I’ve got lots to look forward too; I’ve had letters from both the dentist and opticians demanding my presence (oh joy, oh rapture), TMM’s sister is fit to burst with a new little one and we’ve got a holiday to Greece to meet up with some old friends to plan (don’t worry, there will definitely be a post on that later because I am actually the worst person in the world at planning a holiday and will have lots of hilarious anxiety ridden anecdotes to share). I even managed to finish a jigsaw that has been sat on our table for OVER A YEAR last night which I’m seeing as a very positive omen for the year ahead. We’ve made it through Blue Monday and it’s all downhill to summer now; things can only get better from here.

Mele Kalikicraftmus

I mean, I know I said all that last week about not being big into Christmas and all, but I do have to admit to getting a bit carried away this weekend. Since we’re having Mother, Robin and her boyf over to ours for the festive period (possibly the first time we’ve actually properly hosted for more than 1 person and for more than 1 evening), we decided it might actually be the time to make some effort. Previous years have seen us either not really making much effort (we always aim to have a tiny Christmas sprout) or not bothering to decorate at all. I think when you’re out living as a real life grown up but without children, the sparkle can dull a little bit and it’s a lot easier to see only the trials and tribulations (and almighty costs) instead of the joy and excitement. When you’re inviting other people though, it could possibly be considered a tad rude to force them to not celebrate the season just because you can’t be arsed with the stress. To that end, TMM and I have decided we’re going to go for it. Now, we’re not going wild, though this is mainly because we already have so much stuff and I literally do not have the time, energy on inclination to move all of my normal tat to replace it with Xmas tat. Also because I know that if I Go For It (note the use of capitalisation) and it doesn’t look like something out of Country Living December Edition (which is obviously won’t) I will lose all hope and try and bin everything. Instead, we will just go at about 65%, which will still allow us to be 50% more festive than previous years but won’t end in a stroppy ceremonial Christmas bonfire.

We have obviously (as per last week’s post) already been adopting new seasonal traditions (book flood anyone?), but we’ve also been reverting to some god old fashioned ones, which leads me nicely into our first adventure of the weekend. No matter how non-Christmassy we’re feeling, we do always agree that if a tree is to be purchased, it must be real. Previous years have found us with teeny weeny little shrubs from local garden centres (or occasional Tesco) propped up on cabinets and weighed down awkwardly by our 5 oversized baubles. This year however, TMM decided that it was time for us to go big (not childhood big, where all Christmas trees appear to be about 30 ft. tall and as wide as Santa’s waistline) but of a grown up height. He rearranged the living room to make room and dug out the flyer offering £5 off from the local Christmas Tree Farm and everything was gung ho until we realised that whilst our house and dreams were big enough to accommodate a 6 ft. tree, the new car was not. I was fully prepared to give up and go back to the little league, but TMM was not to be deterred. “I’ll just carry it!” he says, with a hearty attitude and somewhat manic look in his eye.

And Reader? Carry it he did.

Decked in our new gear (Primark jumper and new expedition coat that turns me into a member of East 17, we set off on Sunday mid morning. Now the walk from our house to the next village along typically takes me about 40 minutes (though usually because I am trudging grumpily and muttering under my breath about stupid public transport), but I do have to admit that it wasn’t quite as bad as normal with TMM’s positive attitude. Making it to the farm in record time, we turned up the drive and were met by two high viz wearing youths who smiled at us with bemused smiles, obviously concerned that we hadn’t realised we’d forgotten our car. Undeterred, we skipped merrily into the fields and started manhandling tress with gay abandon. Not being too arsed by the general look of the thing, we made our selection within about 2 minutes and TMM dragged it over to the netting machines. Much to my chagrin (and despite my offer of a whole £5 if he threw himself through it head first, which alongside being in a carwash with the windows down is one of my all time big dreams), TMM refused to net himself and instead focused on getting the tree trussed up. I think he mightily impressed one of the workers who basically just stood aside and let him do his thing with a cheery “you should get a job here”, and he had it paid for (with discount) and over his shoulder in the blink of an eye. As we departed, one of the youths from the gate broke out into a cheery smile when he realised what we intended, wishing us a very Merry Christmas and 100% convinced that we weren’t going to make it. TMM is a true hero amongst men though, and in less than 2 hours after setting out we’d made it back to base camp with only one stop to delayer. I documented the whole thing hilariously on Instagram, partly to distract myself from my own burden of the coats (which were also very heavy thank you very much) but mostly to show the world what an absolute legend he is. Nearly every car that drove past heralded either a smile or a face of disbelief and I actually think we might be village famous now #lifegoals

Side note – I would also like to point out that I did try to help, but it was decided very quickly by all parties that I was more of a hindrance than not (I ended up looking a lot like Grandpa in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang; one finger on the tree and a big cheesy grin).

Once we were home (again, can I point out how it took us less than 2 hours to travel that far with baggage) it only took a few minutes of furious sawing and a quick vac (of both the pine needles on the floor and the ones that had coated TMM’s back) to get it settled. By the afternoon, it was most gloriously bedecked in all of our oversized baubles (I don’t know why we don’t buy normal sized ones), including the Oxford globe, the York bell jar and our little wooden cut outs from Prague. I am quite proud with the classic and understated approach we’ve taken to it, and TMM is happy we haven’t used tinsel (which he believes is the devil’s work). As of the time this was written, it is still upright (if leaning slightly to the left) and Bucky has remained mostly unarsed by it, except as somewhere to hide whilst he decapitates and devours the mouse population of the village (such lovely presents to find).

Whist we doing the tree however, it was pretty clear that we really don’t have enough decorations for anywhere else in the house. Our minimalist approach has left us with one box of random bits and bobs and a couple of stockings and that’s about it. Somewhat reluctant to go out and spend money on crappy plastic ones, TMM suggested we have a go at making our own. I’m all into my pom poms and origami at the moment, which gave us some ideas, and a quick google suggested salt dough could be the way forward. Now salt dough is a staple from my childhood and for anyone who’s never done IT, you’re really missing out. Super cheap and easy to make, non toxic (quite important considering how much I insisted on eating when younger), and very simple to decorate; it’s the perfect idea to keep kids and craft adults happy. All you need is 2 cups of plain flour, 1 cup of salt and enough water to bind it together and hey presto; you’ve got your dough. What more can you want? TMM suggested we make some nice little pendants using some stamps that we had, and after a slight hiccup (I couldn’t find the stamps and was fully prepared to cancel Christmas as a whole until TMM found them hiding under the couch), we were set to go. It was surprisingly easy and within the hour, we have enough bits for four garlands spelling Merry Christmas in various languages (points if you can identify them), a couple of festive animals and a big gay pendant with our initials because we are in love and also ADORABLE. 3 hours in the oven on a low heat and they were baked to perfection and we’ve been gradually tying them up as and when we’ve had time. I’ve also decided some pom pom bunting couldn’t hurt and I’m just waiting for a free evening to get a couple knocked out in seasonal colours, and I’m hoping to make some little paper trees and cranes this weekend whilst TMM finishes off the wrapping.

All in all, I don’t really think I can keep claiming the title of Grinch this year. With our early start on present shopping and decorative preparations, we’re pretty much fully immersed. All that’s left is a rendition of Santa Drives a Pickup Truck (my most fave xmas song) and a night in with White Christmas and Muppets Christmas Carol. Is this what being a functional and prepared adult in December feels like? Apparently it really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas…

12 Days of Tradition

12 Trads Blog

IT’S COMING PEOPLE! CHRISTMAS IS ON IT’S WAY! I don’t want to panic you or appear overly dramatic, but it cannot be denied. Halloween is over and done with, Bonfire Night is a distant memory and people are gearing up for the Big Ho Ho Ho. Shops are filling up with suspiciously smug customers who have already made a dent in their gift lists, fairy lights are popping up like festive moles all over the bloody place and I have already seen one child walking to school in a Santa hat. People are starting to get excited and there is a whiff of festivity in the air.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m enjoying to that much. I am one of those grouchy grinches who repeatedly insists that there are only 12 days of Christmas and not one of them is in November. I’ve already spent countless hours wordlessly screaming into the black void of Christmas music and I’ve had to haggle hard with some work colleagues to keep the festive radio station playing to a minimum (we’ve compromised on an hour a day until December 1st, though this has already been ignored and Tuesday was a whole day of Mariah Carey and Wizzard). I have also categorically refused to even touch the wrapping this year, but thankfully TMM has take my childish refusal with good grace and tackled the ever growing pile with a positive attitude and a healthy amount of recycled brown packaging paper. I have deigned to come from my lofty heights to make a couple of pompoms for decoration, but that’s it.

Look how cute these are. Though be aware, this is just a fraction. The whole left hand side of the living room is lost to the Present Pile now.

It is unavoidable though, and no matter how much I bury my head in the snow, the undeniable seasonal cheer is seeping in. Various Christmas adverts insist on thrusting themselves into my eye line despite the fact I never actually watch live TV anymore, and I’ve witnessed the Kevin the Carrot hysteria second hand. Apparently Aldi were forced to put a limit of no more than two carrot families per person (though god knows why anybody wants that many stuffed felt carrots, as they will undoubtedly end up in a cupboard or under the bed within two months before making their way forlornly to various charity shops/bins before this decade is out). I do have to admit to possibly encouraging the craze and agreeing to make a baby carrot toy for one of the girls at work, which in itself was a challenge. Never having crocheted before I feel maybe a carrot was a tad ambitious, but after 1 broken crochet hook, countless swear words and some near misses with tears of frustration, I was able to gift him as promised and apparently he is now much loved. To be honest I think he looks a little like he’s screaming, but as long as she’s happy with him, it’s all gravy.

It’s not a great photo, but I still can’t help but think he looks like a carrot version of The Scream. As long as someone loves him though.

It’s coming up to the time of festive traditions though, as people start to talk about their Christmas routines and everyone starts to fall into the same old patterns of preparing for the big day. We had the ultimate pleasure of taking Molly to the local Christmas Fair (one of my favourite events) and boy am I glad we don’t have to do that again for a few months. She tutted her way round the stalls complaining loudly about the lack of local people (despite the fact that it was the busiest I’d ever seen it), pushed in front of various other elderly people without any regard for social convention (though thankfully in her excitement she missed the Tombolo which really is more trouble than it’s worth) and spent a truly repulsive amount of money at the jam stall. She evilly eyed up the woman with the golden charity bucket, who despite being there every damn year is apparently a complete stranger (Molly insisted on repeatedly saying to her “I don’t know who you are”) and griped about the coffee being stone cold (but refused to let us get her a fresh cup). By the time we got her back to her house, both of the other couples that look after her had turned up (a fortuitous event that has never before happened). We all had to have photos and the she got completely overwhelmed and just shouted at everyone until we all went home. A truly festive afternoon.

I have heard of some rather more positive seasonal traditions though, which I think would be much nicer to adhere to (no offence to the local Christmas Fair, obvs). There are a lot of European and Scandinavian practices that have popped on my Facebook feed over the last few years that I would love to adopt. This year, a lot of people have been pointing me towards an Icelandic tradition that is part of a season called Jolabokflod (Jólabókaflóð) which roughly translates to “The Christmas Book Flood”. Iceland publishes more books per capita than any other country and sells most of its books between September and November in preparation for the upcoming holiday. This has led to people exchanging books as presents on Christmas Eve and spending the rest of the night snuggled up reading them and snacking on festive foods. Obviously this speaks to me on a rather emotional level and TMM has already made the executive decision to appropriate this idea this year (I can’t say I’m too upset).

I’ve also seen articles relating to a movement in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where people purchase new coats and leave them tied around lamp posts and packed safely on benches for homeless people with notes tied to them that say “I am not lost! If you are stuck out in the cold, please take me to keep warm”. Austrians also like to help, and apparently buy extra Christmas trees to leave outside their houses to ensure the local wildlife has a nice festively themed haven. If these don’t warm your heart, I don’t know what will.

Denmark and Norway have given us Hygge, a massively on trend movement that thrives well in the wintery season. All about comfort and relaxation, it’s there to help away fight away the winter blues and seasonal low moods. It’s all about the aesthetic; including lots of heart shapes decorations (which will please my mum no end) earthy colours and natural textures – bringing in some much needed greenery inside for the holidays. If you’re looking for a cosy little Christmas, you don’t need much more than a little bit of Jolabokflod and Hygge (which sounds like a great law firm).

The last one I’ve seen recently which I thought was cute is a Nordic folklore about the Nisse/Tomte, which in very rudimentary terms is basically a Christmas goblin. Originating in pre-Christian times, it is a spirit that looks like a little gnome or gonk and is often linked specifically to a family or clan, thought to be of the farmer who originally cleared the land to live on. Believed to possibly be derived from Norse niðsi which translates “dear little relative”, they live in the homestead and act as a guardian. They will look after the family and animals and protect from misfortune, but are short tempered and easily offended – they will steal stuff or kill life stock and basically they will eff shiz up if you don’t treat them properly. However, over time their legends have evolved and they are now widely linked to Christmas. Their purpose and appearance has been heavily influenced by the commercialised ideas of Father Christmas and they now visit houses to deliver gifts to worthy souls. I like the notion of a little house spirit keeping an eye on things and enjoying the festivities as much as the next romantic.

Not to be a lefty snowflake (though I suppose it is the season after all) but I would like as much European influence this Christmas as possible. It’s a time for celebration and coming together (I feel the urge to burst into song) and with everything that’s going on elsewhere, I think it’s important to share our histories and traditions before they’re lost. And let’s face it, anything that keeps me in the mood has got to be worth it.

Variations on a Theme

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…

No Money, Limited Space and Knee Deep in Promises and Projects. The Perfect Time to Start Something New…right?

Hello my little sprouts!
I hope all is well in your little corners of the world? I trust you’re all as pleased as I am at the blooming of daffodils and crocuses that are springing up all along the pavements, and that you’re starting to tentatively put away those big winter jumpers and look hopefully at short sleeved t-shirts. Admittedly, the sudden spells of snow and somewhat biting winds that have been battering at the flowers are making it a tad difficult to commit to that summer wardrobe, but I’m maintaining a firm air of positivity. I have also been the busiest of all the bees the past few days and this post comes to you from a much needed and wonderfully relaxing bath. Fernando the somewhat poorly balanced rubber flamingo has been providing some excellent moral support (as has TMM who is currently prostrate on the bathroom floor using the toilet roll as a pillow and reading).

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I’ve balanced him artfully on my knee for this pic, because left to his own devices, he just floats around sideways with his beak underwater.

Now what could possibly have kept you so hectic this weekend you ask, slightly dreading the answer. Well let me tell you, I reply, my somewhat manic grin making your concern completely founded.
As you probably already are aware, I have a penchant for getting these grand ideas, fixating wildly on them and then starting production at the most inopportune times. This month’s somewhat poorly timed venture was a casual re-haul of the living room. It started somewhat innocuously, as these things often do, with a casual remark made by an unassuming work colleague in regards to a lovely little hexagon shelf on the Primark Instagram. Such a small, harmless gesture you might think. Just one friend showing another some nice yet completely banal household items. Nothing that could cause any issues there surely? Well let me tell you, that is most certainly not the case. Within two hours, I’d mentally changed the entire layout of our living room (and the number of bookshelves, because why have just 3 bookshelves when you could have 6??), all to accommodate one simple £6 shelf.
Of course, it then transpired that these shelves could not be found locally for love nor money (or even slightly further afield when I made my dad go hunting around Manchester too) but by that point it was too late. The damage was done, the Ikea website was loaded in three different internet tabs on my phone and my dreams were rapidly expanding far quicker than my purse was able to keep up with.
Poor TMM, who has learnt to take this sort of situation in his stride, allows my flights of fancy and has proven nothing but supportable (even through my customary and somewhat non surprising mini breakdown at the weekend). He promised to take me to Ikea, look at countless Pinterest boards and nod where appropriate whilst I rabbited on about colour schemes, layouts and paint prices. Admittedly, there was a slight hitch or two (broken car exhausts) that threatened to derail me, but my creativity is made of sterner stuff. After being encouraged to purchase the slightly cheaper and somewhat more suitable bookshelves instead of the glorious corner curving, dangerously expensive set I originally had my eye on, I ordered three (2 big, one skinny) shelves of finest Billy MDF and a couple of storage boxes directly from the Ikea website. Now, I do still feel slightly cheated that I didn’t get meatballs or the chance to ride round on the trolley, which is literally a highlight of my life next to going to the car wash. Last time we went, small children were left gobsmacked as I rode astride a rolled up mattress and pushed round the warehouse at high speed. However, whilst my Ikea fix was to remain unsated, it did mean that my early Friday finish could be spent buying the correct painting equipment. It also gave me the opportunity to have a complete spur of the moment switcharoo regarding the paint scheme and we could pick up a sweet little build it yourself green house for TMM’s growing bucket garden. It meant as well that we had the sensible option of removing all the books, bits and bobs and fill up the cwtch in preparation for the delivery on Saturday morning.

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Before the carnage but after the first haul – it is not always this messy, I promise you.

And deliver on Saturday morning they did, I can tell you! Not having many large scale items delivered, we’ve rarely had to deal with the dreaded delivery slot drama, where they give you a helpful 7 hour window and then proceed to turn up three days later. Our slot was narrowed between 7am and 11am, and no points for guessing what time they appeared. They even called at 6.30am to confirm delivery, though it didn’t really do any good because I immediately and unthinkingly declined, believing it to be a completely unnecessary alarm. However, that put TMM on red alert and he was dressed and ready to receive by 6.50am. Within 20 minutes, two adorable looking chaps (Bobble Hat and Beardie) in high viz and the worlds biggest lorry (or at least that’s what it looked like compared to our tiny dead end of a road) were outside, unloading boxes galore and watching with rather bemused yet thankful expressions as TMM carried them all easily into the house. I saw this all from my vantage point under the duvet, peering out of the bedroom window like some kind of hermit crab. I am completely useless with strangers, early mornings or heavy objects and it was decided to be best for all if I just stayed safely out of the way. Beardie was apparently most concerned to make sure we had a good building playlist and Bobble Hat nearly spotted me owlishly peeping out through the window, and by 7.45 everything was in and ready for construction, which was a rather novel experience. Usually our Ikea trips happen late afternoon and we’re building dining room tables at 11pm at night. To have half the battle already won before breakfast time is pretty encouraging.
I eventually deigned to move downstairs at about 9am and we had a chill morning eating oatcakes with TMM’s parents who’d come to help fix Hans von Manschaft (the car) and take TMM out for a walk and some good photo opportunities. I, in the meantime, managed to mostly successfully construct a greenhouse in gale force winds and snow flurries (much to the amusement of the chap from next door who was moving stuff round and was only noticed by myself after I’d said the C word several times and pretended to use the cover as a parachute). I then constructed a half width bookshelf for the bedroom and primed half of one of the big ones before TMM made it home. Definitely one of my more industrious days.
Sunday was spent in a haze of priming, painting in plum and carefully positioning.IT became abundantly clear that I am in desperate need of a workshop (or a tad more self control when it comes to DIY) when I got to the point of having completely taken over the green house and the living room with deconstructed slabs of furniture all over the place. There was also a rather heart-stopping moment halfway through the first coat of the colour paint (after two coats of primer because I will make this shit look good) when we (read I) started to regret all of my choices. The beautifully red wine colour I had been envisioning seemed to be more of a lurid shade of fuchsia and I was furiously calculating if I could nip out and get a time of the dark green I’d originally planned. TMM was terribly sensible though and suggested that multiple coats would improve the look of the thing and then took me out to town to take my mind of it. After returning from a soothing cinema trip to see the new Tomb Raider (enjoyable, but room for improvement in upcoming chapters, 3 stars) he was proven right and the whole situation seemed much better.

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I had been hoping to show you some pictures of the garishly pink shelves and Buck’s adorable yet badly placed paw print, but I accidentally deleted the photos. So instead, here’s Bucky just helpfully sat right in the way giving me a disapproving stare.

Except, that is, for poor Bucky. Due to the toxic nature of the paint (and the fact he’d managed to sneak in and leave a incriminating paw print on one shelf) he was banned from the living room and spent the night with his nose pressed against the living room door, pathetically singing us the sad songs of his people.
Monday (and my final day of holiday allowance) was for final coats and explorative walks – TMM was going slightly stir crazy and was, I think, concerned at my lack of vitamin D and exposure to daylight. We racked up an impressive 10000+ steps on my third day of being awake and out of bed before 9.30am. It was around 7.30pm (who knew how long the days could be?!) before I had my customary strop when there was the inevitable hiccup during construction (I shouted, got hugged, sulked, got shouted at, nearly cried, got passively aggressively encouraged and finally came to my senses) and we got the frames up with minimal injury. I think I may have partly been upset about having to go back to work and give up my free and carefree lifestyle so carefully cultivated in that long weekend, but who knows. I also, rather annoyingly, did have to give up on my design plans for the backboards in favour of sensibility and peace of mind, but I’ve still got a couple of ideas up my sleeve for embellishment (WILL YOU NEVER LEARN, I hear the Greek chorus cry from the side-lines).
Tuesday morning saw me up even earlier than normal to get the final coat on everything and after a mildly harrowing day at work, we got the backboards hammered into place, the shelves on and the touch ups touched up. The colours look rather splendid and after a complimentary coat of wax I think they’re going to be a bit of alright. Unfortunately I haven’t had time too refill them in a carelessly yet totally artful fashion, but rest assured you’ll have photos next week to show the outcome. Overall I reckon its going to be an improvement and is going to allow us at least two more justifiable trips to Waterstones so I’m taking the whole endeavour as a victory.
Now, about those other 3 bookshelves that need painting….
(And in answer to your question, I still haven’t got that bloody Primark shelf.)