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.

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.

A Thousand Words Will Not Leave So Deep An Impression As One Deed

That Time I Spent Easter Weekend Forcing Chocolate On Unsuspecting Herefordians


There are what we call 'brown trouser' moments in this mad ride we call life.


These can include (but are not limited to) watching a motorcyclist almost fall off his bike in front of your car, the moment before you think you are about to be bitten by a dog and meeting your new boyfriend's friends and family for the first time.


I, for reasons I am still uncertain of, experienced all three in the space of 2 days.


And, for your enjoyment, dear readers, I have documented some of my adventures herewith.


You. Are. Welcome.


In order to maintain some semblance of anonymity we shall call the new boyfriend Apollo (aka Lee Adama and BF) because a) we are not above stroking the new boyfriend's ego occasionally; b) it somehow seemed very appropriate; c) I can then be Starbuck (because I say so); and d) reasons.


NB: Some of the following circumstances and conversations may have been dramatized (slightly) for humorous effect.


Wednesday - Eve

HouseMate: ...Amy? (HouseMate pushes open bedroom door to reveal AJ frantically emptying her wardrobe onto her bed). ...What'cha doing?

Me: (Breathing heavily and slightly wild around the edges) I don't know what to pack! Why do I not own any clothes?!

HouseMate: ...err...you own lots of clothes? (HouseMate looks pointedly at the piles of clothing currently threatening to tumble off the bed)

Me: Okay, let me rephrase, why do I not own anything that isn't either ridiculously formal or horrendously slutty?!

HouseMate: (Clearly wonders if this is a trick question) Because you're AmyJay?

Me: (Is not amused) Not. Helping.

HouseMate: Okay, okay calm down. We will find something. What is the occasion?

Me: Okay, meeting the parents, brother's birthday lunch the next day then 'a night out in the countryside' whatever that means and Easter Sunday.

(AJ waits with baited breath for HouseMate's pearls of wisdom).

HouseMate: Right, well jeans and a nice top then.

Me: (Visibly deflates) I don't have nice tops; I have work clothes or backless dresses ....This is impossible, I'm going to cancel. Do you want to push me down the stairs or something? Need to make it believable...

HouseMate: Don't be daft; look wear this blazer and these jeans and....WHY ARE YOU PACKING THAT TEENY TINY RED DRESS?!

Me: Err.....Just in case?

HouseMate: (Deep breaths) Step away from the suitcase, Johnson.

(HouseMate proceeds to re-pack entire suitcase with suitable items of clothing whilst AJ, who should be taking notes, fiddles with a make up bag the size of a small holdall and wonders just how much nude eyeshadow one really really requires for a 2 day trip.)


Friday

Apollo and I leave his flat to make the treacherous trip to the frozen wastelands of the North (read as Hereford) and, having checked Google Maps I can see that the journey should take about 2.5 hours (ish).

Until BF announces that he needs to take the motorbike North in order to try and fix it up a little bit. Which also means the motorway is a no-go. 

So the back roads in convoy it is.

Whilst the drive was undeniably lovely (the sun was shining, I was singing along to one of my cheesy Spotify playlists, Apollo was pulling silly faces at me in his wing mirror and the scenery was incredible), we arrived at our destination circa 5 hours after we had set off. 

5. Hours. 

Not to mention the fact that at about 4.5 hours in to our journey (which, admittedly, had been somewhat fraught with the motorbike deciding to randomly indicate hither and thither with little encouragement from BF and me being unable to navigate tiny country roads in the Glorious Accord) we encountered one of those 'brown trouser' moments I mentioned previously. 

Going round a rather tight bend in the road, I was merrily singing along to Jet which promptly ended on a somewhat strangled gasp as I watched Apollo slide round the corner - literally. The back end of the bike seemed to slip on the road and BF (instinctively, I assume) put his foot down whilst still travelling at about 20 mph. 

This was Not A Good Plan. 

As I watched I genuinely thought he was going to come off the bike which would have been bad enough in its own right, but that I was then going to make raspberry jam out of him on the road. 

Somewhat awkward meeting the parents as you try to explain just why their son's face is mashed into the front of the Glorious Accord and, here, this prosecco is for you...lovely to finally meet you?

Thankfully, this was not our fate and BF managed to regain control of the bike (albeit with a very sore ankle and bruised toes).

And so our adventure continued. 

Approximately 30 seconds later (once I was convinced that Apollo was alright and not dying of some horrendous broken ankle injury) my rear view mirror promptly plopped into my lap. 

Really, Honda? Really?!

*~*~*~*~*~*

Arriving at the house (and checking BF still has full function in his left foot), it becomes apparent that Commander Adama (CA) and President Roslin (PR) (aka Papa and Mama) are not home. 

But the rest of the family is. 

The rest of the family consists of two border collies and one terrier. 

Now, dear readers, I am an animal lover.  I have grown up with a dog, multitudes of cats and a variety of rodents in between. 

However, I have also been the unfortunate victim of several dogs getting over excited and snapping at me.  (I also seem to have a problem with Loud Sudden Noises but that is clearly a very different problem that is probably best discussed with a trained therapist and I will therefore not burden you, dear readers.)  Therefore, the sight of three very excitable dogs barking at the sight of Apollo had me somewhat nervous. 

Not least because one of the dogs was what we affectionately call a 'smiler'.

...affectionate. Promise!

Once I had got past my initial fear, turns out all the dogs were really very soppy and I needn't have worried at all.

See? What a softie!

In any event, CA and PR arrived home and it was the weirdest sensation to meet people for the first time and greet them on the threshold of their doorway.

But even in the weird circumstances, CA and PR gave me a big hug and seemed to be pleased with my offerings of flowers and prosecco (bonus points on the board for AJ).

Although CA and PR had turned up laden with curry so my paltry offerings of tulips and alcohol paled somewhat in comparison.

In addition to CA and PR, Apollo’s Aunt was also staying for the weekend. I do not appear to be able to come up with a suitable comparison for Apollo’s Aunt so we will stick with Aunty Dearest (AD).

The five of us tucked into the Indian feast and the conversation promptly turned to ships/boating/the mysteries of that cruel mistress The Sea etc.

PR: You’d be so proud of me – this week, whilst in Guernsey, I got on a boat!

Me: Are you not a good sailor then, PR?

BF: The boat is either in too deep water or too near rocks so it’s kind of a lose/lose deal for Mum.

PR: Amy, can you imagine anything worse than being on a floating village?! Just travelling around in the sea on a giant ship – yeuck. I don't like the idea of cruises at all. I can’t think of anything I would rather do less, don’t you agree?

(AJ can see Apollo grinning at her out of the corner of her eye and stifles a laugh)

Me: Well…actually I’ve already been on three cruises and have another one booked in a month so…yeah.

PR: Ah. Well then.

(AJ can sense the bonus points rapidly evaporating. The Topic of Conversation moves swiftly on and we all head to bed.)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday

Today was the day that the Glorious Honda had been waiting for since it had the misfortune of being bequeathed to my fair hand.

It was time for a general check up.

Apollo has a healthy obsession with motor vehicles and therefore, like my Dear Father, was horrified to learn that I had been driving whilst the red oil light was coming on in my car. Again, my defense was that the light only came on when I went around corners but this appeared to have a similar non-pacifying effect on BF and the same vein pulsed in his forehead.

I pity the men in my life.

I was therefore instructed to present the Glorious Honda for inspection in The Workshop at 0900 hours sharp. (As this was a Saturday morning, this did obviously NOT happen.)

The Workshop is an area of patio between two stables with a home made roof of plastic sheeting (which has a bad habit of attracting dead wood spears from above) and an eye watering number of tools/gadgets which look alternately intriguing and/or dangerous. 

 
Basically; it's a boy's playground in which we pretend serious work actually happens. 

But the Honda was clearly very happy to be there and received a full oil change, new oil filter, a top up of screen wash and coolant. If she could have purred and rubbed against Apollo's legs she would have done. (Tart.)

After much tutting and pointed looks from CA in my direction re: keeping the oil topped up so that it actually touched the dip stick in future, I tottered off to wrestle off my wellies and get ready for lunch.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Apollo's brother, Zak Adama's, birthday carvery lunch. 

Food.

Unf.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the afternoon, Food Mountain (see above) caught up with me at about 5pm and so it was that I went for the inevitable afternoon nap that the Adama family had been predicting since they first laid eyes on my heaped plate. 

As one does, I removed my glasses (now officially blind) and stripped off to clamber into bed. 

I'm not sleeping in skinny jeans. 

For reals, sister.

I had been 'resting my eyes' for about half an hour when a voice called from the doorway. 

??: Amy? 

Me: (AJ slowly stirs from slumber and peers over the top of the duvet)

??: I can see one eye! 

Me: (AJ cannot see who is standing in the doorway as she is still glasses-less but assumes it is the BF and begins to unravel from the duvet but then hears a giggle.  AJ realises a moment before it is too late that in the doorway must be Apollo's brother and his ladylove (LL).  AJ quickly rolls the duvet into an even tighter sushi roll) Err..hi guys.

LL: We just came to say goodbye as we are heading off now. 

Me: Oh, okay let me just...

LL: No, no you don't need to get up, we just wanted to come say goodbye. 

Me: (AJ is clearly dealing with an Internal Struggle). No, I need to get up as I have Easter presents for you both.

LL/ZA: Aw, that's so sweet. (Both parties remain standing in the doorway.)

Me: Yeah...I have chocolate for you but I am currently in a state of undress. (AJ gives a pointed glance downwards (as pointed as it can be when everything is a blur and she is squinting).) 

LL: Ah, we'll give you a minute then. 

Me: Ta.

And that was the moment I almost flashed my boyfriend's brother and his girlfriend.

Flashbacks of Holland and the thin curtain/balcony incident.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday night was a Night Out in Hereford and, thank goodness I have a sensible and lovely HouseMate to guide me through my social events. 

This meant a night in the pub followed by posh burgers and then back to the pub. 

....no little red dress required. 

In fact, the BF gave me about 15 minutes to get dressed and do my hair and makeup.

This was met with a somewhat withering glare once I had my contacts in and he was in focus. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunday

Sunday involved a lazy breakfast and then we headed back out to The Workshop. 

And this time, the Honda Accord was lavished with even more attention.

A good old fashioned wash. She was glowing afterwards.

After a dog walk in the woods (where we left in the sunshine but got caught in the rain, one of the dogs decided he didn't want to wear his coat any more tyvm and yet another dog decided he wanted to rip his coat off on barbed wire before we all made friends with some little shetland ponies) it was just time for lunch and then the drive back home. 

As we got in the car to travel back Down South, Apollo turns to me:

BF: So do you want a one stop plan or a two stop plan. 

Me: ...For what? 

BF: For the drive home.

Me: Erm...for the two and a half hour drive you mean? 

BF: ...err, yeah? (BF looks at AJ like she is not speaking English.  AJ returns the favour).

Me: Erm, I drive to Leicester which is 3 hours on a regular basis with no stops and I was planning on doing the same today. Clearly, because I am hardcore.

BF: But there's no rush today so we could just-...

Me: HARDCORE. 

After much laughing at my playlists ("Haha, Meat Loaf, Disney. ...Err....what is this wedding playlist, Amy?!" - Alarmed BF) and ONE stop for coffee (Not Hardcore), we arrived back in Hampshire having engaged in a wonderful bank holiday weekend where I had avoided flashing any family members (except maybe one particularly nosy pooch after a shower) and hadn't made a complete tit of myself by getting drunk on Saturday night and insisting people try and lick their elbows. 

All in all, a successful meeting of the friends and in-laws I think. 

And it can't have been too bad as they invited me back the following weekend.

Huzzah.

&&Fin.

A Woman Is Helpless Only When Her Nail Polish Is Drying

That Time I Did My Own Gel Nails (And They Were FABULOUS)

As you may well know, dear readers, I was an avid nail biter from the age I discovered that I could nibble on those little suckers right up until approximately September 2014.

I had always hated the look of my chewed and damaged finger nails but I was never able to break the habit entirely.  There would always be some stressful exam or I would just be bored and pop! Off they would all come.

During those awkward teenage years I even tried to stop myself from biting by constantly gluing false nails onto the end of my fingertips.  This often ended in disaster (/hilarity) when the glue would inevitably get everywhere and I ended up gluing my knees together and my mouth shut.

Potentially the one time in history I was able to stay quiet for longer than five minutes.

Deadpool is my spirit animal.

In any event, I was able to kick the habit in 2014 and I haven't looked back since.

(For all those interested in stopping biting their nails, my trick was to apply Nu Nail Creme every time I even thought about putting my hands near my mouth.  Apply the cream and also grab a glass of water.  You'll soon forget all about the nails. If you are interested, the cream is very cheap and you can buy it from Boots in the UK.  The packaging looks like this:)

My hero <3>

Since having nails I have decided to treat myself to the odd manicure (which I have previously discussed in this blog post) and for Christmas my lovely Mother and Sister bought me a kit to do my own gel nails at home.

Proxima Direct UV lamp

I will admit that, at first, I was somewhat undecided about the gift for several reasons:-

1) I like going to a salon and having my nails done.  It takes the stress out of it and is a real treat to myself (even if it does cost an absolute bomb);

2) My right hand is never going to look as good as my left hand. Fact; and

3) I needed to buy more products before I could even give it a go.  This is not a gift; it's an obligation. 

But, I am nothing if not a positive person so I got straight on Amazon and bought all the necessary items to do my own gel nails at home. 

My Sister had already purchased a top coat, colour and base coat so all that remained was the acetone, alcohol wipes, cuticle oil and a primer. 

This is the brand I used as my sister had bought some bottles already. (This blog post is not sponsored by BlueSky.)

I decided to do one hand at a time because I just knew it was going to be harder than it looked so here are the steps:-

1. Wipe nails with cotton wool ball dipped in acetone to ensure nails are clean. (I had clear nail varnish on up to this point)

2. File nails into desired shape.

3. Apply Primer. This is a very thin layer which will help the gel polish 'stick' to the nail. Apparently.

4. Apply Base Coat. 

5. Cure for 2 minutes.  The Proxima Direct lamp which I have has a timer button and will switch off after 2 minutes so this is very handy!

6. Apply thin layer of colour.  I used Bluesky colour chameleon (no. 24) gel polish.  This polish changes colours at different temperatures! It's so cool. 

Sparkles and colour changing!? Yes please! (But, seriously, not sponsored by BlueSky)

7. Cure for 2 minutes.

8. Apply second thin layer of colour.

9. Cure for 2 minutes.

10. Apply Top Coat.

11. Cure for 2 minutes.

12. Wipe nails with alcohol wipes or UV cleanser to remove any sticky residue. 

13. Apply cuticle oil.

14. Repeat steps for other hand. 

Et voila!

Amazing gel nails at home!

And they change colour!!

So despite my initial reluctance to try out the present, it has turned out amazingly and I can tell I will be totally addicted. I have two other colours to try so hopefully I will use those soon.

In the meantime, I am going to see how long the gel polish lasts without chipping and how easy it is to remove (eek!). 

If any of you are thinking about doing gel nails at home, dear readers, I can definitely, definitely recommend it!

&&Fin.