The World Needs More Love At First Sight

That Time We Found Lego Boyfriend A Mate

So it's been a while, dear reader (as usual).  Christmas has come and gone.

O Christmas tree...

And New Year...

And the first week of work...

And with January blues firmly setting in, I think it is about time The Blog makes a comeback to spread some happiness and sarcasm about the place.

Or it might just be a good chance for some of you to have a good-natured chortle at my various antics.

Whatevs.

As we all know, The Great Abandonment has begun (namely because I don't shut up about it).  However, I was lucky enough to see The Boyfriend a few times over the course of the last 2 months.  The Battlestar came into port for a brief period of time and, despite my friends sniggering over my 'boaty calls', it has been lovely to see The Boyfriend for real.

Err...I mean...oh bollocks.

Not that Lego Boyfriend hasn't been a big comfort to me!

Oh Lord, what have I done?!

ANYWAY.

Because I realised how much I had neglected Lego Boyfriend in the wake of real man flesh becoming, if not readily, at least somewhat, available.

Yes, yes - we get it!

I decided to treat Lego Boyfriend to a special little plastic something of his own.

...Keep it clean, dear readers!

Whilst I was off gallivanting with The Boyfriend, poor old Lego Boyfriend was tucked safe in a little pouch in my handbag hardly seeing the light of day.

Poor little tyke.

In an attempt to cheer him up, I got him his own little playmate.

Lego Boyfriend meet.....

Lego Girlfriend!

Complete with big suitcase and a can of whoop ass.

And it was love at first sight.

Lego Boyfriend effectively became the heart eyes emoji upon setting his plastic little eyes on her.

What can I say? Call me the Lego fairy godmother.

So. Many. Legos.

Now. I would love to say that Lego Boyfriend and Girlfriend lived happily ever after, clasping their little yellow hands (claws?) and running (shuffling) off into the sunset (a lamp on my desk).  But sadly, shortly after their love struck first meeting, it was decided that Lego Girlfriend should be allowed to travel the world with The Boyfriend (since AJ is far too big to squeeze in The Boyfriend's suitcase).

Especially not with this bint already stowing away.

So Lego Girlfriend and Boyfriend have been separated (geographically only - obviously!) and now I'm stuck with this face permanently:

Calm down - you'll see her in March.

So Lego Girlfriend has gone on her adventures to Central America with The Boyfriend:

Doing her bit to help ensure safe passage across the Atlantic.  Can't say she doesn't pull her weight.

Lego Boyfriend and I will sit at home and look forward to the updates we receive from our respective other (arguably better) halves. But at least we'll have each other for company.

And now The Boyfriend doesn't need to get his jealous pouty face on every time Lego Boyfriend pops up on Instagram.

Although I have already had to have The Chat with Lego Girlfriend about Proper and Appropriate Behaviour.

I think you all know what I'm talking about.

When two young plastic lego figurines get together, the sparks fly, hormones are racing, the skirts are a little above the knee...it's inevitable really.

Queen Elsa knows what's up (kind of a party pooper though - I love a good wedding)

Ah, young, delusional love.

I'm off to buy myself a hat!

&&Fin.

Hobbies Of Any Kind Are Boring Except To people Who Have The Same Hobby

That Time We Talked About How To Enjoy Yourself On The Cheap

We previous discussed the fact that my boyfriend abandons me on the regular (aka he goes away for work). What you might not know is that I am also currently repaying a Career and Development loan (aka the Law Society fleeced me for even more money for a pointless piece of paper and I'm still not qualified. ...not bitter).

This is a qualified lawyer.  If this was a law student that statue would have been sold for food by now. Trust.

All of this means that I now need to find ways to enjoy myself on the cheap.

And thus, I have been indulging in as many free activities as possible.  These have, invariably, been a comedy of errors and therefore a Blog post is necessary.

So away we go:

1. Yoga at home

This is Adrienne.

Don't you just feel relaxed looking at her?!

Adrienne is my saviour.

I love yoga (potentially because it is the only form of exercise that I am semi-good at due to my alien, inherent bendy-ness). Previously, I have attended a yoga class in Southampton with Heather (I STILL LOVE YOU HEATHER!) which made sense when I worked in Southampton.  But now that I do not live or work in Southampton, driving to the class made less and less sense.

My YouTube skills (see Bear Grylls: Born Shiteater) led me to Adrienne.  I like that she doesn't take the practice too seriously and encourages people to find what feels good rather than sticking to what the poses should look like.

However, the major drawback to this method of yoga practice is that the teacher isn't in the room with you so you're not entirely sure you are doing the vinyasa (check me out!) correctly.  This is compounded further when you are trying to copy a miniature version of a lady on your phone screen propped up against a wall.

Anyway, because the teacher isn't in the room with you, they aren't able to correct you and/or push your limits in the best way and you end up in positions that maybe your body doesn't really appreciate.

By day 3 of the 30 day challenge, my buttocks ached in ways they shouldn't.  Although this may have had more to do with the fact that I tried to bend myself into a pretzel after several months of no exercise.  I am sure normal humans would not encounter the achy bottom syndrome that I suffered.

Hey ho, needs must and all that.

The 30 Day Challenge is a great way to get back into the practice if you have been away for a while.  The session are between 15-40 minutes so you might even be able to squeeze in some mat time before work if you are really keen.

Obviously, I will be in bed wondering what is wrong with you but don't let my judgmental eyes stop you.

Namaste. 

2. Home Waxing

This is less of a 'hobby' and more of a cry for help to be honest.

For anyone not getting my amazing Twilight references - boyfriend goes away, girlfriend endangers life and limb because "I'm an angsty teen and my life revolves around a guy - sozlol" and afterwards there is a dramatic loss of hair.

Well, I thought it was quite apt.

#isTwilightevenathinganymore

Anyway, I have previously mentioned my love for waxing so onto the step by step guide of my ordeal experience:

Step 1: Ensure Housemate has vacated the Premises.  I do not want an audience for the inevitable howls and yelps that are likely to ensue.

Step 2: Heat the wax up.  This took f-o-r-e-v-e-r.  This may have had something to do with the fact that I was melting enough wax to mould my own Madame Tussaud's figure but the wax wasn't fully melted for several hours.  In fact, my patience ran out and I started when there was still a huge solid chunk in the middle.

FYI - just as a kind of public service announcement; don't google image search 'lots of wax'.  You will be scarred for life.

You. Are. Welcome.

Step 3: Sit on the floor, on a towel, legs akimbo in a Very Unladylike Manner.

Step 4: Deep breaths.

Step 5: Use wooden lollipop stick to apply hot wax (NOT TOO HOT) to happy places.

Step 6: Allow wax to cool and harden.

Step 7: Realise that there is no going back.

Step 8: More deep breaths.

Step 9: Rip the wax off of your happy places which are now less happy and a lot more pissed off.  Hold in expletives.

Step 10: Admire handiwork and think the pain was worth it.

Step 11: Realise you have to do this like 30 more times and maybe it won't be worth it actually.

Step 12: Repeat steps 5 - 11 until you have achieved the desired baldness.

Hey, to each their own, man, amiright?!

There was a strange kind of satisfaction about the whole process. Enjoyment is not the right word; don't get me wrong - it hurts! But there is a weird compulsion to just keep going. It's like that feeling you get when you press a bruise. You know, where it kind of hurts but you can't help but do it again? ...no? I mean...me neither.

Not awkward enough to NOT write a Blog Post about though, clearly.

3. My Lego Boyfriend

My most recent project is a clear sign of my descent into madness.

But hey, what is a Blog for, if not to afford my dear readers the chance to mock me when they see me in public.

Years ago, a lifetime before Perfect Tinder Dates and Breakfast Bahjis, the Boyfriend was gifted a Lego version of himself by some work colleagues.

Here he is:

So. Cute.

Lego Boyfriend has been entrusted into my care whilst Real Boyfriend is away and we have lots of adventures planned for the next few months.

For the time being, I just wanted to introduce my Lego Boyfriend (checkered shirt and all!) and you can follow our adventures via photographs on my Instagram.  But Lego Boyfriend will also be making regular appearances on the Blog so hopefully we will be seeing much more of him in the future.

NO!

I love you, dear readers, but really.

Filthy minded the lot of you.

In light of my poverty, my friends and family have the joys of home made Christmas gifts so look forward to my fail tales of my attempts at creativity in due course.

What this whole experience, and in particular, writing this Blog post, has taught me is that...I need better hobbies.

&&Fin.

If Music Is A Place -- Then Jazz Is The City, Folk Is The Wilderness, Rock Is The Road, Classical Is A Temple

That Time I Recounted Saturday At Wilderness Festival 2016

Hola, dear readers.  I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for the next installment of the Wilderness Blog Post.

Well...ta-da!  Here we are...nearly a month later.  My bad.

But, seriously - busy, busy life yada yada I know, dear readers, you have heard it all before.  So let us get right back in to the story.

Saturday

(In which I forgot to mention that we had tried to buy ear plugs for Ker-Bear from the many vendors around the festival only to be told they were all sold out.  But I did have some cotton wool pads so KB was able to stuff those in her ears to at least muffle some of the noise.)

Accurate representation of how cute the Ker-Bear is.  Even in the mornings.

On Saturday, we woke up bright and early to go and do mass morning yoga.

After a breakfast of tinned beans and sausages (actually the perfect wake up call), we toddled off to yoga with a change of clothes in our bags.

And then dynamic yoga occurred.

Which was amazing.

See? Looks amazing.

Apart from the fact that it was in the blazing sun and we hadn't drunk anything bar our now requisite cup of tea.

So by the end of it, KB felt faint and I was crying again.

(Don't know what is wrong with me so don't even bother asking #totesemosh #noimnotpregnantgrandma).

After a quick BubbleTea:

Seriously yum. 

We decided what to do for the day which included getting a Moroccan lamb wrap, wild swimming and going to a talk on the meaning of dreams.

And did not include me dashing off to the Portaloo every five minutes to try and push a demon out of me (#againnotpregnantgrandma). 

Regardless, we did all of the above. 

Which was made worse by the fact that I was wearing a crop top (I know, I am Down With The Kiddywinks) and I was hideously bloated during my 24 hour ordeal (#shitmaybeiampregnant). 

Thankfully, Wilderness is an upmarket kind of festival and there were portaloos everywhere with toilet paper in abundance and they were emptied regularly.  Which, I think I speak for everyone here, we were all grateful for. 

In any event (and moving away from the Portaloos (for a minute at least)) I went wild swimming in the lake which was awesome but freezing!  And I put my hair up because I am now in Swimming Mum Mode (#AGAINGRANDMA) whereby I do not want to get my hair all wet. 

This plan was foiled by the fact that I got all excited and cannon balled into the lake completing forgetting that water is liquid and can therefore be displaced by me and my giant, distended belly. 

So, of course, I instantly went completely under the water and dropped like a stone.  When, really, I should have been quite buoyant given all that gas....#tmi.

#wildswimming

Later, Ker-Bear and I wandered off in search of some intellectual discussions (and more Portaloos obvs). 

What we found was the Odditorium which was indulging in a discussion on the meaning of dreams before going on to explore The Haunted Moustache by Dr Bramwell and an enlightening talk entitled 'Big Willies' which we were assured would have visual aids. 

We didn't hang around to find out. 

Instead, the foreboding, grey cubicles were calling me name once more so off we trundled towards the tent to have dinner and buy Imodium. 

My dear, dear friends.

After taking the recommended dose (combination of counter assistant in a plarmacy + lawyer = religiously reading the instructions and following them to the letter), I was feeling much better. 

Which was a very good thing because Ker-Bear had started to become quite concerned and kept suggesting I think about driving home. 

But I couldn't bear the thought of leaving on our final evening without experiencing as much of the festival as possible.  So I pulled my big girl pants on (or off rather) and let out the squeakiest, longest symphony of flatulence I have ever had the ultimate pleasure of experiencing. 

And it was pleasurable, let me tell you dear readers.  My poor bloated stomach was quite relieved. 

(Not so sure the same could be said for the poor chap next door.  Definitely heard muffled laughter and then a hurried escape from the pod beside me.)

In any event, I was feeling much better and that meant that we had to Go Full Festival. 

Which was nowhere near as Full Festival as literally everyone else but hey! We tried.

Now, you may not believe this, dear readers, given my propensity to exaggerate and the Blog’s flair for dramatics, but I am usually what is known as The Sensible One of the group.

(Terrifying, non?)

In any event, I usually make good, rational decisions.  So it is with something akin to chagrin that I must report that, despite The Unpleasantness of earlier, Ker-bear and I headed into the festival intent on finding Tequila town and sampling the goods therein.

Tequila Town

Following a quick tequila, we wandered off to try and find The Valley which was a mystical area we had heard of but never been privy to.  After finding several dead ends and being told to turn around lots, we thought it would be better to get good seats for the Carnival extravaganza which was due to start at 9pm.

9pm came and went, dear readers.

Much like the feeling in my buttocks from sitting cross legged on the floor.

After what felt like ages (but had only really been about 45 minutes - which is a long time for old birds like us to sit cross legged) the circus started.

 

No silly captions because the photos speak for themselves.

It was incredible and Ker-Bear and I pretty much sat there with our mouths open for the entire performance.

So we were somewhat pumped to go and find The Valley as this would be the perfect way to end our weekend.

We queued up to get in to The Valley (after finally locating the entrance) and stumbled into a bunch of teenagers in booty shorts who all clearly liked the same weed scented perfume.

There were loads of people, the music was pounding, the lights were strobing.

And we promptly left after about 5 minutes.

Ain't nobody over the age of 21 got time for that.

Off we went to bed.

Sunday

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

That is the noise our dear camp mates woke up to at about 7.30am on Sunday morning.

That noise was us dismantling our tent/camp beds and lobbing all our metal poles together being passive aggressive due to the fact that the Camp Horrors had been making noise until about half 6.  This noise consisted mainly of screaming into each others' faces and finding this hysterical (well, from what I could gather anyway.  In no way were drugs involved.  I'm like... 90% sure.)

This plan was genius because the sun was back out in full force and everyone was just lying about outside their tents to try and get out of the heat.

Apart from one girl which I was actually growing concerned for until Ker-Bear informed me that she was breathing so I shouldn't worry.

The genius plan was somewhat foiled when one of the main offenders came over and offered to help us pack up whilst asking us about our weekend.

#awkward

We made a hasty exit and stopped off for McDonalds for breakfast which consisted of 20 chicken McNuggets for me.

...which I then re-heated and ate three days later.

Lucky I still had some of that Imodium left over!


And thus ends the tale of Wilderness Festival 2016.

After three sleepless nights, bloated stomachs, extended stays in Portaloos and the best damn Moroccan lamb wrap I've ever had, I will be doing it all over again in 2017.

#wilderness17

&&Fin.

Wilderness Is Not A Luxury But A Necessity Of The Human Spirit

That Time I Went To A Hippy Dippy Festival And Cried (Twice)

Hello, dear readers.

I am in a state of peace-like zen.  Partly due to the lovely weather:


But mostly due to Wilderness Festival.

Wilderness is a festival in Cornbury Park, Oxfordshire this year from 4th August to 7th August 2016.  This year was the sixth season it has been running and, my word, did they pull out all the stops.

When Wilderness was first created in 2011, it was described as a festival to celebrate the arts and the outdoors. The self-proclaimed ideal was to "bring together reciprocal talents, passion to build transformative experiences with a deep love of artistry and artisans."

Which all sounds a bit pretentious written down in black and white like that.

BUT, it was amazing.

Between music, dancing, tequila shots, yoga, bubbletea, Moroccan lamb wraps, making your own jewelry, adventuring into the forest, talks, wild swimming and Portaloos as far as the eye could see...there was never a chance to be bored.

Just have a look at the basic programme if you needed more convincing!

And, because I'm a lovely person, I thought I would share my experience with you all, dear readers.  So you can relive the magic as if you were there.

Thursday

Late.  I am always late.

However, Thursday I was actually up, packed and on time, wearing my wrist band, deciding whether I was cool enough for a bumbag (or if not whether I could get away with wearing one 'ironically') and waiting for my friend (who we shall lovingly call "Ker-Bear").

A selection of the goodies the Amazon fairy brought...

Ker-Bear was not so on time.

So, whilst I waited for her arrival the Glorious was treated to a much-needed clean given the amount of bird poo that adorned the passenger window, door and left hand side of the windscreen.

Beauty!

(As an aside; there is a very poorly bird near the BF's house that needs medical attention. Stat.)

In any event, Ker-Bear arrived and we promptly packed the Glorious to get under way.

Away we go!

Upon arriving at Cornbury Park (after one hilariously wrong turn), we soon came to the conclusion that we I had brought a lot of stuff.

And therefore Mathilda the Trolley was necessary!

My new best friend.

After about 40 minutes of unpacking, convincing the security man at the gate that we had really stuck to the alcohol limit (and his look of incredulity that someone actually abides by festival rules - lawyers #amiright), we had managed to organise our home for the next three nights.

Not too shabby!

After a brief respite, we decided to go for an explore into the Festival arena.  I did not realise how much space the Festival would cover.

Ker-Bear has an UP wrist band that tracks her steps over the day and tells her how much exercise she has done (I will not be getting one as I don't need any more things in my life explicitly showing that I am exceedingly lazy tyvm). And each day we would end up walking about 20,000 steps.  Which I'm sure doesn't sound too impressive until you realise that Ker-Bear's target was only 11,000.

We wandered around to get our bearings and decided on some key activities for the weekend:

1. Make your own silver ring;
2. Enter the Spirit Forest walk; and
3. Yoga at some point in time.

When we returned to camp for an early bed time, we discovered that someone had unceremoniously pitched up pretty much in front of our door.

At first, we didn't mind as it meant that at least no one was going to pitch their tent any closer so we still had a bit of space for our chairs and the camp mates seemed friendly enough.  So we assumed that this was a Good Thing.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Friday morning 3.00am

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUTUP.SHUTUP.

It's amazing how quickly that mantra makes you feel like you are going insane.

The Camp Mates turned out to be Camp Horrors.

From 12-3am (ish) they screamed, shouted, played music and in general just were raucous (NOT what we had been expecting from such a Hippy Dippy festival thank you very much).

The true ramifications of this un-Godly behaviour would only become apparent to me in the respectable hours of the  morning.

Actual Friday morning 

(6.30am - the dawn light has arrived.  Inside a tent the condensation has started to gather and the occupants are acutely aware that the sun is definitely shining as they are cooking like boil in the bag rice. Lights up on a dozy AJ) 

KB: Amy? (From the other side of fly netting)

AJ: Yeah?

KB: I'm going to go for a shower and see what they are like.

AJ: Mm-hmm. See you later.

(KB toddles off in search of warm water.  Half an hour later KB returns and AJ is fully awake)

AJ: Alright, KB? Did you sleep okay?

(KB stares at AJ in horrified disbelief.  Her expression is clear 'Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?'  AJ belatedly senses the storm coming her way and braces for impact) 

KB: Right, let's just start this off with: I'm not a morning person anyway. So I'm already not happy. But I think I got about 2 hours sleep last night because of these idiots next door. (AJ refrains from pointing out that they are in a tent and The Idiots Next Door can probably hear this conversation fairly clearly). And I'm pretty sure they were doing drugs.  I heard them talking about coke and lines so that's fun. (AJ also refrains from pointing out that that is probably why they were awake so late.) And I was absolutely freezing (AJ refrains from pointing out that she had previously warned KB about the cool night temperatures. AJ is impressed with her ability to filter brain to mouth so early in the morning). And at one point about 3am I genuinely thought 'I can't do this and Amy is going to have to take me home'.  So no, I did not sleep okay and I feel shit.

(AJ ponders this for a moment and is slightly alarmed by KB's response as she is distressed and KB  is AJ's friend. Because AJ is the British-est thing to ever have Britished the next sentence pops out almost unthinkingly)

AJ: Well...shall we have some breakfast and a cup of tea? That might make you feel better.

(So they do.  And because KB is also the Britishest thing to ever have Britished; it works).

After (magic-weekend-saving) breakfast we headed into the festival with our picnic blankets and our water bottles.  First item of the day was Enter the Spirit Forest.  We went to the meeting point and saw lots of people milling about so we joined their group and followed them into the forest.

Where we entered the Land of the Fae and attended the Wychwood Ball by mistake.  Which we were supposed to pay for.

Whoops.

But it was awesome - it made us laugh, it made us me cry and it was a great start to what had not been a good day so far.

Also there was a really straight tree and KB was slightly worried by the amount of tree comments I made throughout the weekend.

Next on the to-do list was make our silver rings.

After we had bashed them with some hammers... #noshavingabovetheknee

The finished product!

Friday night we ended up watching Robert Plant for a while before meandering amongst the other bands and dancers that were around the Festival. We also marvelled at all the guests' clothes - the feathers, sequins, face paints and the bare legs.

Seriously, how do people survive the cold nights in shorts and crop tops!?  This is a mystery that I will never solve.

Because we are old people, we stripped off our multitudes of jumpers, I handed KB jogging bottoms and a fleece and we were in bed by 11pm.  Hoping for a slightly less disturbed night's sleep.

It was not to be. dear readers.

...To be continued.

(This is already a fairly long Blog Post so I will do Part 2 and 3 (Saturday and Sunday) in a separate post.)

&&Fin.