I was e mailing my sis this morning, she still lives back on the island and I miss her so much. She is pregnant right now and is not keeping very well so it’s horrible not being able to give her a hug.

She is 5 years younger than me and an absolute wee star. She is tall, slim and gorgeous and when she walks it looks like she is floating. She got married a couple of years ago and she wore the most gorgeous red dress with gold celtic embroidery and she looked so beautiful it was almost like she wasn’t real.

When we were younger I used to look after her because I’m 5 years older but now we are grown ups (or supposed to be) she kind of looks after me. Sisters are funny because even if you don’t speak for a while there’s still this sister bond that doesn’t change, I kind of like knowing that there is this person who knows me so well and is kind of stuck with me no matter what.

When we were younger she used to nick my clothes and then when she got bigger I used to nick hers. Even now when I go home one of the first things I do is have a nosey through her wardrobe and she does the same to mine when she comes to visit, we are both kind of obsessed with shopping and it’s so weird because I have this strange thing that I do, when I fill a glass of water I fill it and empty it 3 or 4 times before I drink it and she does exactly the same thing, it’s bizarre!

Don’t get me wrong though, we are not one of these fluffy, gushy, everything is so perfect kind of sisters. She can be a right pain in the ass and I can be an even bigger one so we fight, we have some proper humdingers and we stomp around saying we hate each other (when I was about 10 she threw my Peaches and Cream Barbie ball gown on the fire, I have never forgiven her for that one) but we always make up.
I love her, she’s my sister.

I cannot wait for her to have that baby! I’m gonna be such a cool auntie!

I have decided to learn to cook, you would think that after 9 years of domestic bliss, or something like it, I would know by now, but no.
I spent last night looking at recipes on the internet because Hubby is back tonight and I wanted to surprise him and actually cook something he could eat without having to pretend to like.
There are loads of really delicious sounding recipes online and the photos of the finished results always look gorgeous but you just know they wouldn’t end up looking like that if I cooked them and they are also complicated! Why can’t they just speak English!
A fritter is like a potato, right? And how do you puree something? Is that like mashing it up? Why can’t they just say mash it up? And Rocket………What the hell is Rocket?

I am without a doubt the worlds worst cook, I admit it. Once, just after we got married, I cut up a lettuce and put it in a pan because I thought it was a cabbage. Hubby has never let me live that one down and he takes great pleasure in telling as many people as possible that story which kind of backfires on him because nobody ever believes him because in reality no one could actually be that stupid, right.
In my defence it was one of those funny looking wrinkly ones (is that Rocket?) so it was quite an easy mistake to make.

Another time when Hubby was away and my friends Ian and Maureen were staying with me I managed to set the oven on fire. Luckily Ian was there and he managed to extinguish the flames or I would have probably burnt the house down. He, being a man and handy to have around in an emergency, grabbed the smouldering oven tray and threw it into the garden which left a black square patch on my lawn for months afterwards.
I think what put the tin hat on it though was when Mini Man and his friend strolled into the back garden and his friend upon seeing the smoking pan on the grass gasped “what happened”? Mini Man just rolled his eyes and said “I think my mum’s been cooking again”. I swear I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So after spending most of last night trying to decipher these stupid recipes online, phoning round my friends asking how to cook various things and trying to figure out what weird foreign sounding herbs and stuff I would have to but I just thought STUFF IT.
We are having a take away!

The weirdest thing happened the other day. Me and Hubby were in Debenhams, Oooo I love that place, it’s my happy place, anyway we were walking through the household section and I wasn’t really paying attention because I was checking out the Denby. I think Hubby was checking out the pans but he denies it. He has this weird fixation with pans, if he disappears he’s at the pans. I think he has a thing for the ones with the spot in the middle that changes colour, weird I know but hey.
Anyway, we are walking through Debenhams and there, on the floor, just sitting there, in the middle of the aisle was a DUREX!

I mean it was still in the packet and everything (urgh, I have this disgusting image in my head now) but this is Debenhams! There were old ladies about for goodness sake, the site of that thing on the floor could have given one of them a heart attack…… or a good laugh.
It was just sitting there, all square and blue and durexy. It’s not really what you expect to see amongst the crockery, it was just weird.

You can imagine the poor soul that dropped it, you would be mortified. How funny would it be if someone had picked it up, tapped them on the back and said, “You dropped this”. If that happened to me I swear I wouldn’t be able to leave the house for a week I’d be so embarrassed.
Once, my friend was in the queue in the supermarket and the girl in front of her dropped her bag and literally hundreds of them fell out, she had obviously just been and stocked up on freebies at the family planning clinic. The shame would have killed me.

So I got the giggles in the middle of Debenhams and we just stepped over it and walked off and now I feel guilty for just leaving it there but what if someone saw you pick it up. I suppose we should have pointed it out to a shop assistant but then they might have thought we dropped it and were to embarrassed to pick it up and my face would have gone bright red with the shame even though it had nothing whatsoever to do with me.
They might have thought I was nicking it. Imagine being done for shoplifting a Durex out of Debenhams.

Think it’s best I left it where it was!

It’s great having an 8 year old, it’s amazing what you learn.

For instance we don’t say “wicked” anymore, we say “wick”, as in “that’s wick man” and it’s so not cool to say “cool”, that’s definitely not wick, it’s so last year.
Sometimes you’re a “loser” emphasised with the L sign made with your thumb and index finger and if you’re having a really bad day you’re a double loser which means you qualify for the double L sign.
Being a loser is better however than being a “minger” for which you get the M sign made with both hands and which cleverly enough, if turned upside down becomes “whatever”.
The whole thing, in my opinion, is a bit Vicky Pollard (as in V to the P to the icky to the ollard, yeah but, no but, yeah but, whatever)

An 8 year olds favourite phrases are “in a minute” and “it wasn’t my fault”, these can be used in response to pretty much anything, if neither of these work they smile at you sweetly and say “love you”. This is the ultimate get out of jail free card and very effective.

8 year olds won’t kiss you goodbye in the morning if any of their friends are watching, 8 year olds hide the remote control so you can’t turn over Sponge Bob Square Pants, dirt is magnetically attracted to them, they hate getting their hair washed and they just won’t stop growing!

You will also find that an 8 year old has the most infectious smile in the world, when they laugh it’s like music and you can’t help but join in. They say the funniest things, they are refreshingly honest, they have the best kisses, the warmest cuddles and there is so much gorgeousness crammed in there you wonder where it all fits.

I can’t believe my baby is 8!!!!

Introducing Hubby

Who has gone away and left me (sob, sob) for 2 days which really just means I get the telly to myself and can stretch out and take up the whole bed if I want to.
I do hate it when he goes away though. Tip for all the girlies out there, don’t marry a man in the air force because they are never sodding there.
I get kind of restless and unsettled when he goes away, I think he kinds of dreads what I’m going to do because once he went away for a few days and he came back and the kitchen was this bright greeny kind of colour which he hated and ended up having to finish because I painted one and a half walls and then got bored. Another time he went away and I got a kitten. Usually I just go shopping and spend loads of money bit I don’t suppose there’s much damage I can do in 2 days.

We went to stay with the in-laws this weekend. Friday night we went shopping and get this, the shops stayed open until ten o’clock!! I don’t know whose idea that was but they deserve some kind of award. Pure genius!!!
Saturday night we went to an engagement party. It was one of these kind of things where you feel obligated to turn up but it’s kind of painful because you don’t really know anyone and you’re just waiting until you can go home again but you don’t want to be the first to leave so you sit and watch the door until someone makes the first move and then you just run for it. Except I cleaned out the buffet and then got hammered and didn’t want to leave.

We came home tonight and I actually managed to get some photos of Mini Man without him sticking his tongue out which he has developed a habit of doing lately (actually I think he might get that from me).

Then the aforementioned stupid cat was sick on my leather sofa!

Oooo! I was in a wee strop yesterday! But I’m all right today, I’ve got my mojo back, or something.

I’m going to the hairdresser at lunchtime, very traumatic but I have some major split ends in need of TLC. Going to the hairdresser has turned into an experience on par with going to the dentist because in a moment of madness in the hairdressers chair I went and cut all my hair off and then (you would think I’d learn) in another moment where I temporarily took leave of my senses I went and cut all these layers in and I HATE it. So I’m desperately trying to grow my hair and am now scared of the hairdresser.

I will go home sobbing and crying and Hubby will say “it doesn’t look any different” and then I will walk around like it’s the end of the world and wearing hats for the next week until I realise that it actually doesn’t look any different.

On a brighter note I actually managed to get hold of a PSP at the weekend, well Santa did. It’s for Mini Man’s Christmas present and they are so hard to get hold of, I have been trying for the last 6 weeks and everywhere is out of stock so I’m, feeling very smug that I got one. It’s like the holy grail of Christmas presents.
Hubby has been “testing” it every night since then. Once the coast is clear and everybody that should be in bed is in bed, it comes out of the box because he’s “just testing it”!! I think it’s safe to say we know it’s working by now. I think I’m going to have to hide it on him, usually it’s the other way round. Ha! Who’s the big, grown up responsible one now!!

I also saw this gorgeous watch that I want because you know, I just don’t have enough watches. It’s really shiny and blingy and although I did get a shiny blingy D & G one not so long ago it catches on your clothes so you can’t wear it with everything and that’s just a waste of money having a watch that you can’t wear with everything so technically, I would actually be saving money by getting this watch.

Are you listening Santa……………………….

……….if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Duh!! It’s not rocket science.

I seem to have started a wee discussion on cars of all things on my girlie blog so today, to balance the situation I am going to have a girlie rant about asses because I am actually slightly perturbed about this.

We went Christmas shopping at the weekend. I dragged Hubby kicking and screaming and bless him, he was good, he didn’t moan much but he did do that thing where he hovers in shops behind me repeating “hurry up, hurry up” over and over inside his head. No matter how much you telepathically will it, it’s not going to make me shop any faster.

So anyway, I was wearing my new skinny jeans and was feeling quite pleased with myself for 1) finding the perfect pair of skinny, fit into your boots without wrinkling round your knees type jeans, and 2) being able to fit into the stupid things in the first place, they are great jeans though if a wee bit tight, it’s kind of hard to sit down in them, but hey, who needs to sit down, you burn more calories standing up anyway. I was admiring them in the nearest shop window and I said to Hubby “do you like my new jeans? Do you think they make my bum look big”? And he looks at them and goes “I prefer your bum in your other jeans, it looks to small in these, it’s all squashed down to nothing”.

For a second, just for a second, I was quite pleased, wow, Hubby thinks I have a small ass! Then the enormity of what he had just said hit me.
I always ask him if my butt looks big in this, that and the other and he always says no but he usually gets this glazed look in his eyes so I know he is not really listening, but this time he was and he says it’s to small!!! What the………

For the last I don’t know how many years I have had an ass fixation, I have a round ass, I know it’s not what you would call a big ass but it’s not a wee cute flat one either. It’s my thing, I’m Nonny with the Jlo ass. Well maybe not on that scale but you know, it’s NOT a wee cute flat one either and now he is telling me that the last decade of worrying, working out (occasionally) and avoiding certain styles that I actually really like were for NOTHING!!!
I mean you just can’t win, first I think it’s to big and now he has got me thinking it’s too small. When did I reach that perfect in between stage and not know about it?

So I have decided to start thinking like a man, I’m going to get in touch with my masculine side because you wouldn’t you see a guy trying on 4 different pairs of trousers before going out to see which one makes their butt look best. You wouldn’t see a guy stand at a certain angle when getting their photo taken because it makes their butt look smaller and you wouldn’t see a guy harbouring a life long obsession with finding the perfect pair of jeans that shrink and lift their butt would you. No, I don’t think so.
And then they turn round and tell you your butt is too small. But you know what………what does he know anyway!!

Now he tells me it’s all in my head and my butt hasn’t actually changed shape or size in the last 10 years. It’s all in my head…..yeah, right, whatever.

Well………maybe…….

I have a guilty secret. I kind of like Top Gear. I always moan whenever Hubby switches it on but I secretly like it. I have no idea why because I have absolutely no idea about cars. I once blew up the engine on a car because apparently I had been driving around for a few weeks with a warning light on, well it wasn’t a very good warning light, they should put it somewhere you can see it and when I got my Peugeot a few years ago I couldn’t find the petrol light so I though that meant it was a diesel. Luckily I didn’t fill it up before someone enlightened me because I never fill the car up anyway because your hands always stink afterwards and the stupid pumps always click off on me because apparently I’m holding them at the wrong angle or something

Anyway, when Hubby turns on Top Gear I always huff and puff and make a big fuss but I sneakily pretend to be reading or something when really I’m watching it over the top of my book. I think it’s because they are quite funny and they always do stuff that looks really fun like remote control real cars and blow things up and drive off the end of boats and thrash cars and stuff. The Stig is my hero. Secretly.

The other day Hubby turned it on and that little man and the older one who is not Jeremy Clarkson were on the Isle of Lewis. They were driving a bunch of convertibles round the island because apparently Lewis has the least convertible per head ratio of any place in Britain. Well that’s because there’s not much call for them because of the constant hurricane conditions and all that. Trust me, I know! When I met hubby he had a Golf convertible. Nice car…...when the roof was up!

So they were driving all these cars around the island and admittedly they didn’t show very much of the place but I was still jumping up and down like a loony going “I recognise that cattle grid” and “I recognise that bus shelter” and even “I recognise those trees”!! Once you leave the actual town, trees are like gold dust on the island so yes, I actually did recognise those trees!
Then they showed some guy in a kilt tossing a caber and interviewed some random crofter about his sheep or something.

It made me really homesick but it did give an excuse to watch Top Gear.

Yay! It’s Friday afternoon, 2 more hours of work to go and them I’m out of here, unless I get really bored and then will finish at 4 and go shopping!
I’m off out tonight (yes, I know, again) with work. It just so happens that I work with a bunch of firemen. Damn!!
Oh well, it’s a hard life and all that……..

I so couldn’t get out of bed this morning, I woke up and it was freeeeeezing!! What’s going on, I love autumn, it’s my favourite season but this year we just skipped it and jumped straight into winter.
I do love my bed though, if I didn’t have hubby to kick my sorry ass out of bed in the morning I would never get up. I take up loads of room as well, we bought a massive great big wooden bed because for such a small person I take uploads of room and he thought the bigger the bed the more room he would have. Ha ha, wrong! He still sleeps balancing on his side at the very edge of the bed and if he inadvertently lays on his back during the night I poke him in the ribs and go “oi, roll over, your snoring”. He doesn’t actually snore at all (unless he’s had a few beers but we’ll give him that) I only do it so he will get out of my space!
Anyway, I do love my bed. This morning I really couldn’t get up because Mini Man came and crawled in beside me and he was so warm and cuddly I just couldn’t get up.
So I was late this morning and I got to my desk and had a Twirl for my breakfast and it was really nice so I nipped out and got another one….and it’s nearly lunchtime and I seriously think I want another.

So the moral of the story is don’t sleep in because you will end up being a pig and eating 3 bars of chocolate in one morning!!

I am the most selfish person I know. Officially. We were driving into town the other day and we drove past a garage. Hubby pointed out this car that he wanted me to see. He has been going on about getting a new car for ages because ours absolutely guzzles petrol and costs a fortune to run.
So he pointed out this car and it was UGLY.
We have always had nice cars, we have a BMW right now, before that we had an Alfa Romeo and before that a sporty Honda type thingy. Well anyway this car was horrible and I was disgusted, “I’m not driving around in that”.
So I sulked all the way into town and was muttering under my breath about how just because I had turned 30 I was not prepared to drive around in a disgusting car that looked like it belonged to an 80 year old man, I mean it didn’t even have a spoiler. Come on!!
So we are driving round the car park looking for a parking spot and we spotted some people about to get into their car so we stopped and waited for them so that we could have their parking space. There was a couple and their son who looked about ten and he was strapped into a wheelchair. We sat and waited and I watched as they lifted him into the car, strapped him into one of these specially designed car seat things and folded up his wheelchair and put it in the boot.

Then I turned around and looked at my own perfectly healthy, happy, gorgeous little boy sitting in the back and I just thought, you selfish, selfish cow. Some people have so much to deal with and I’m sitting here sulking because my husband wants to buy a new car! Sometimes I think I really need a slap. I am so blessed and I just take it all for granted. Like I said, I am officially the most selfish person I know.

Today has been as dull as ditch water. The amount of crap that has found it’s way onto my desk is frightening. I think I may be a wee bit stressed because I swear if one more person calls me “love” or “darling” today I’m gonna do something nasty to them with my stapler!
But hey ho, it’s nearly home time and I can feel a serious vegging session coming on….and it’s Lost night tonight. Things may be looking up!

Isn’t it funny the things that remind you of things. Like today the woman in front of me in the queue in Tesco reminded me of my Ma because she smelt like her. Perfume and Polo mints, that’s my Ma to a T and she always has a hanky up her sleeve.

Phil Collins always makes me think of my Da. And WD-40.

Harvey Nics makes me think of Christmas because I went to Leeds Christmas shopping last year and Harvey Nics was all lit up with fairy lights and I took photos of it on my phone and sent it to all my friends going “look where I am”!!!!!!

Sweet Home Alabama makes me think of driving along the Inverness to Ullapool road on my way to catch the ferry singing at the top of my voice.

Omelettes make me think of getting food poisoning and now I can’t even eat them anymore and they used to be my favourite food.

Pandrops make me think of going to church, Dirty Dancing makes me think of my sister and Twix’s make me think of the time me and Hubby got on the wrong train in Belgium and ended up in the wrong country.

And now I’m looking at this and it’s making me think that I should actually try and get some work done today………

It’s Monday morning and I am sitting at my desk at work and I STILL have a hangover! Whats that all about?
It must be because I’ve hit 30 and I just handle it. I’m just not hardcore anymore!
When I was younger I had a Saturday job and I would go out on a Friday night, sneak in about 6 or 7 in the morning, pretend to my parents I’d been in bed all night, go to work all day Saturday and then back out again on Saturday night.
I didn’t get dressed at all yesterday; I got up sat on the couch in my pyjamas and didn’t move again until I went to bed.
Saturday was such a good night though. We all got extremely drunk. We drank, danced, drank some more and danced some more. Everybody made it home in one piece, nobody got lost and only one person was sick (Mel, who was sick in her cowboy hat).
At one point in the night I decided to get some photos of our limo so I walked all around it taking photos from every angle like some kind of demented David Bailey until Theresa shouted “what you doing you nutter, that’s not even our car”! It was at that point I noticed the man sitting in the front with a less than amused expression on his face. You could just see him thinking “get that crazy woman away from my car now”!
In hindsight, champagne cocktails before we set off was maybe not a good idea because we were extremely tipsy before we even left the house, well ok, I was. Inevitably, on the hours drive to Newcastle we had to make a couple of toilet stops during which we terrified everybody in the services, made them all take our photos, sang to a couple of people and told the guy behind the counter in the shop that we were strippers.
It was kind of convenient as well that every time we stopped the driver restocked the bar so me might have (just might have) pretended we needed to stop when we didn’t because we had cleaned out the bar, again.
Needless to say, much fun was had by all despite having to walk around all night with one hand on my ears and the other hand on my tail because people kept trying to nick them. Newcastle is a brilliant night out and the people are lovely.
Thank you to the lovely bouncer who let us skip the queue for the night club because we were freezing and hey, it was my birthday after all (well 2 weeks ago but he didn’t know that).
Thank you to the lovely wee Irish man who bought us cocktails (with rude names) just because he liked our ears.
Thank you to the DJ who kept singing Happy Birthday all night (ok, that got a bit annoying after a while).
Thank you to the lovely limo driver for putting up with all my drunk friends, keeping us supplied with free booze all night and for being very accommodating when I was screaming down the phone at him, “stop for chocolate, stop for chocolate”, on the way home.

When we eventually staggered back to my house at 3 in the morning or whatever time it was, Hubby very graciously got up, made sure we were all ok and cooked us pizza. What a star! Then I staggered to bed and the conversation went something like this…
“Love you”.
“I know, go to sleep”.
“But I love you”.
“That’s nice, go to sleep”.
“No, but you don’t understand….I looooove You”!
“Thanks”.
“Except when you’re being grumpy”.
“OK”
“You’re being grumpy now”.
“No, I’m not”.
“Yes you are…..but I still love you”
“Right ok, we’re all happy, we all love each other, go to SLEEP”!!
“Ok……………………………………………Love you”

I think I passed out round about there somewhere.

Before we went out looking (semi) sober

Attack of the killer bunnies

Look, it's my birthday night out and I've got a limo and everything

...and it's got a bar and a t.v

and did I mention the champagne?

I love youuuuuu! I really really love youuuu!!!

Murder on the dancefloor

Luckily the wind didn't change

.
It's my podium and I'll dance if I want to.

I feel like I'm dying today and my head doesn't work right.

I think I have finally got to grips with this photo thing....here goes.

This is Mini Man taken in Stornoway last summer. It's taken at Willow Glen, one of my favourite places

This one makes me laugh, Hubby took it, also last summer in Stornoway and I look like a crazy woman because he took me by surprise.

This is Mini Man in Stornoway castle grounds with part of the town in the background

Wow, it's taken ages to upload these, must go and do some girlie stuff in preparation for TBNO tomorrow.

My Friend C A sent me an MP3 player this week. Its ace, I love it. I have wanted one for ages but I bet she was laughing when she bought it because she knew I wouldn’t be able to work it. I love that girl so much.

We have been friends since school. We met first when we were about 10. I was out visiting with my Ma and I vaguely remember C A coming in with hers. We didn’t meet again till we were both in Secondary school and we sat beside each other in maths and I used to copy of her.

We have had so much fun and got into so much trouble together. We once got barred from one of the local pubs for trying to steal a Christmas tree; we were a wee bit tipsy at the time.
On the morning I went into premature labour with Mini Man (he was born at 26 weeks weighing 1lb 11ozs but that’s a different story) she woke up early and said that she felt like something was wrong and she didn’t know what or why she had this weird feeling.
Before I moved south of the border 18 months ago we wanted to do something special so we took of our wedding rings and went round loads of bridal shops and pretended we were getting married and tried on wedding dresses them we went and had a makeover. It was the best girlie day out ever and if any bridal shop owners in Inverness ever read this then I am truly sorry for fibbing to you and prancing up and down your shop like a loony in a dress that I was never ever going to buy.
We have seen each other through boyfriends, break-ups, bad haircuts, weddings, babies, tears, laughter…..you name it, she’s been there and even though we live hundreds of miles apart now if I ever have a problem or something amazing happens and I just need to tell someone it’s always C A that I phone first.

I don’t really know what the point of all this is, I suppose I just miss her today.

I have been looking at other peoples blogs and they are all pretty with pictures and stuff so I thought, right, lets get some pictures on.
So I spent ages last night fiddling with the wee connecty thing that transfers photos from your camera to the computer.
After I found it that is. We only moved into this house about 4 weeks ago and I have managed to unpack, organise the whole place, throw out a pile of junk and arrange everything tidily in the correct drawer, cupboard etc. Except the techie wires and stuff. I left that to Hubby. Last night I needed this wee techie connecty thingy to transfer my pictures to the computer so I texted him at work to ask him where it was and guess what it wasn’t where he said it would be…surprise, surprise. Is it a man thing? Why can they never find anything? WHY???
So I texted him again, checked where he told me to and it’s not there, so I texted him again and again and after about the fifth time I was getting really mad so I texted him saying “if you don’t come home right now and find that wee *** someone is gonna die and its no me”.
I was tempted to ask him to stop at the shop on his way past and get me some chocolate but I thought best not.
He came home and found it, bless him. At this point I must mention that he only works 2 minutes away, I didn’t make him drive for half an hour or anything like that.

I actually managed to figure out how to work the stupid thing and I saved all my photos onto my laptop. I have to use the laptop because the other pc is currently in bits all over my dining room…….but we won’t go there!
Then I tried to upload the photos onto my blog but because my laptop is basically rubbish and because we still don’t have broadband connected (you lovely lovely people at OneTel, please get your finger out and get my broadband connected) it took ages and ages and then it just got stuck!
Then , I had a stroke of genius, I saved the photos onto disc and brought it into work to do it this morning. Ha! Job done…you would think…but oh no, our rubbish system won’t let me do it because the images are too large.

So that is my tale of woe and the reasons why I have no pictures on my blog today

Its 3 nights of preparation left till The Big Night Out, now to be known as TBNO. We have a very important and complicated countdown routine planned,

Wednesday
- Exfoliate
- Wax legs
- First layer of fake tan applied – we don’t want to go
nasty shade of orange so we shall apply it bit by bit to achieve
the desired effect of natural but glowing.
- Pluck eyebrows

Thursday
- Apply face pack.
- Second layer of fake tan applied.
- Deep condition hair.
- Last minute ring round of other girlies for gossip, find out what
they are wearing etc.
- No more chocolate, junk food, wine from today to ensure skin is
glowing and blemish free.

Friday
- Last, last minute ring round of girlies.
- Try on outfit, examine posterior from every possible angle in
hotpants, parade up and down in front of mirror, ask Hubby, “Does
my bum look big in this”, fall out with him when he says “no” and
accuse him of just saying that to shut me up.
- Try on 5 different outfits because I now hate the one I was gonna
wear.
- Go in a huff because I have nothing to wear.
- Have a glass of wine to de-stress and
then “Duh”! I’m not
supposed to be drink alcohol….might as well
have some Maltesers now I’ve fallen of the wagon
so to speak.
- Decide to wear the original outfit because it is actually the
best and my bum does actually does look ok.
- Apologise to Hubby for being a cow.
- Third and last layer of fake tan applied to legs only.

It’s no easy being a girl!!

Anyway must go, Lost is on and YAY, this week it’s all about the Sawyer

Work is so boring today. I actually have quite a lot to do but I think I have possibly lost the will to live!
Mini Man woke me up this morning practising for his school Christmas play, seven o’clock this morning all I could hear from the bedroom next door was “Beth-lee-HEM, Beth-lee-HEM, BETH-LEE-HEM!”
That boy loves to sing, when he goes to bed at night he sings to the cat until he falls asleep. His favourite is Busted, Crashed the Wedding but he is also partial to a bit of Country Roads by Olivia Newton John. (Think that’s my Da’s influence creeping in there).
My Da has a lot to answer for musically. My first memory ever is of my Da picking me up, I must have been about 3 or 4, and dancing with me in front of the mirror to Kenny Rogers, The Gambler.
I still love Kenny to this day, sorry, I know it’s not cool, but I do.

Anyway, today is very dull and I have lots of very dull things to do but never mind, 4 more days to go until the BIG night out…..yay….stroll on……..

Does anyone know how to return a pure lambs wool jumper to its original size after you have inadvertently shrunk it in the washing machine?

Ralph sodding Lauren it was….

I am originally from the Hebrides and I have just been counting on my calendar – 8 weeks till I go home again.
8 WEEEKS…that’s a lifetime, well it is when you are as homesick or impatient as me. I love going home, my ma makes the best chicken soup you have ever ever tasted and I get spoiled and taken care of and generally feel like a little girl again. Sometimes all you want is a hug from your ma.
A lot of my friends still live up there so it’s like a big reunion every time I go home, many nights out are had, much alcohol is consumed and by the time I leave I am knackered and want to go back to work for a rest,
I have been away for 9 years now and the longer I am away the more homesick I get.

I know a lot of people miss home but I really think that if you’re from the Hebrides it’s different. It’s such a special, beautiful place and it’s like you have a physical bond with the place that you can never shake off.

There is a verse form the Scottish song, Road to the Isles that I love

It's the blue Islands are pullin' me away,
Their laughter puts the leap upon the lame,
The blue Islands from the Skerries to the Lews,
Wi' heather honey taste upon each name.

I think it describes it perfectly. No matter where you lay your hat it’s not home unless it’s up north

I just put Mini Man to bed. He gave me the biggest hug in the world ever (according to him everything is the biggest in the world ever, like today he had the biggest chip in the world ever).
Anyway he gave me the biggest hug in the world ever and said “I love you more that all the stars in the sky”.

Wow.

Today I have been very constructive. I have totally blitzed the house and done all the washing, dusting, hovering etc. I even cleaned the bathrooms, whaoh, slow down Nonny!
Mini Man has spent the last couple of hours on the Playstation and Hubby was in bed so was totally uninterrupted. Cleaning is kind of therapeutic.

I have this thing about my curtains. I have these long cream curtains in my lounge with long draped voile and these babies are my pride and joy. I'm so protective of them you wouldn't believe, touch my curtains with your grubby wee hands and you die. The front of our house is overlooking fields so nobody can really see in so they don’t even get shut unless it’s a special occasion. You have to spend ages rearranging them if you shut them you see.
Well Hubby got out of bed and decided he wanted a go on the Playstation but, “oh no” the sun was shining on the TV screen so, it’s like slow motion here, he makes a move in the direction of the window!
I was like a woman possessed, I practically rugby tackled him, screaming like a banshee “STAY AWAY FROM THE CURTAINS”
For a moment he looked kind of startled….then he just laughed.

I swear that man is the most patient I have ever met. 9 years of my crap cooking, spending all his money, rolling in at 3 in the morning a wee bit worse for wear and basically going of on one every so often and he still loves me.

Maybe he married me for my curtains.

They chucked Chenai off...eh? Whats wrong with these people?

Tonight me and Mini Man went to a bonfire, it was ace! We are hotdogs and candyfloss and watched the fireworks and even though we got rained on and harassed by a bunch of drunken 17 year olds it was really good.

I’m at home now curled up on the couch in my PJ’s watching the X Factor results with a bottle of wine and a massive bat of galaxy.

You know that Nicholas is rubbish. He’s like a little boy singing karaoke, kick him off I say.

Hubby came in from work at half 6 this morning and phoned me to let him in because I had left the key in the door. As you can imagine a few choice words were uttered, by me, even though it was my fault. Half past 6 on a Saturday morning! That’s just cruel! So today I’m knackered and it’s my fault really for being a div.

Ooo, Chenai is on now, I quite like her