Like a busy bee...

This week is gonna be a busy ole week, methinks. I have a week off from work (woohoo!), and while I intend to use the time wisely and sleep as much as humanly possible - I also have a midwife checkup, my sister is up visiting from the Big Smoke, and we have relatives over from Cyprus. Speaking of whom, it was their Golden Wedding party last night. Fifty years is quite a long time to be married. I'm approaching three.

Now, it was nice to see people I haven't clapped eyes on in ages, and chat to folk about my impending motherhood - but really, was is necessary for everyone and their dog to come and give me their sage advice on childbirth and babies? They could have let me sip my lemonade in peace, but no. I nodded through countless tales of sleepless nights (some evil babies who apparently didn't start sleeping through the night until they were 5), horror stories of labour and birth, listened to the debates of whether I'm having a boy or a girl depending on the height, circumference and pointiness (pointiness?! I hope to god it isn't pointy) of my bump (there's not much bump to speak of yet, so that one was a bit difficult), and smiled sweetly as newfangled methods of child rearing were derided.

I know they all mean well, but if I hear "Ooh, sleep now while you have the chance!" one more time, I might actually burst a blood vessel through screaming.

I'm picking up good vibrations...

The Other Half, my unborn child and I went to see Brian Wilson last night. Tremendous gig! I was worried he'd destroy all my childhood memories of The Beach Boys over the course of an evening, but no - the doddery old fella still has a good pair of lungs on him (and a top notch accompanying band!). And it was the baby's first live music experience. I think it enjoyed it. The Other Half also spent the journey home amusing me with renditions of Beach Boys songs sung in Vic Reeves' club singer style. There is no end to the man's talents.

Yesterday was also my folks' 29th wedding anniversary. (Their 'furniture' anniversary, according to t'interweb.) And my mother dearest informed me that next year for the 30th Anniversary- which I'm pretty sure is 'pearl'- she'd like a clock. A clock?! Alright mother, I'll get you a clock. I'm guessing she wasn't happy with sad bunch of tulips I got her yesterday that didn't stand up. Damn tulips.

Meet the parents...

Well, we decided to tell the parents our little secret today as we'd be seeing both sets. (And it's becoming increasingly difficult to answer questions honestly when they ask what's new and how things are going...plus I can't always remember which white lies I've told them so things could potentially get a tad confused.) Anyway, they were all delighted. Although my dad didn't say much at first, and did look The Other Half up and down in a suspicious 'what have you been doing to my daughter?' manner. Yes, Dad - we've been married for almost three years, did you not see this coming eventually?

In other news, I'm very proud of The Other Half. 'Twas his last day at work on Friday but he starts his new job in just over a week. Good on ya, lad.

The cat's out of the bag (sort of)...

The Other Half's tireless networking away seems to be paying off, and he's had some very productive days of late. He's already had some interviews which he feels quite positive about, so fingers crossed he should hear something by the end of the week one way or another. Yay! Speaking of work - well, the cat's out of the bag and my work know that I'm knocked up now.

Actually - only a select and necessary few know, as I've had to be risk assessed due to the nature of elements of my role. (Namely lugging about five million boxes of marketing print about the building to find a home for it on a giant warehouse trolley and climbing up ladders in all weathers to change horrid concert posters. Oh yes. You can see now what my MA is for.) I think I scared my line manager - am pretty sure by the panic-stricken look in her eyes that she thought I'd called a meeting with her and HR to announce that I was either a) leaving or b) making a formal complaint. But it's good to scare them sometimes.

I also managed to raise a few eyebrows at my parents' pad over the weekend as I didn't have any wine when the family were round for tea. Should have said I was on antibiotics or something. Instead, I muttered something incoherent about not feeling very well. Damn. Can't wait until this cloak and dagger business is over.

The Easter bunny forgot my address...

I love bank holidays. They're even better when you get an extra day off work bolted on to your annual leave for free. Get in. And what's been even better is that we had a lovely Easter lunch yesterday and I didn't even have to cook it - my mother dearest decided to host! You can't beat Mum meals. Even if she does decide that the best 'universal' starter to suit everybody round the table is that 1970s crowd pleaser - prawn cocktail. (Although I can't complain too much as she does leave out the revolting nuclear tainted pink Marie Rose sauce, and adds nice lumps of white crab meat to the mix. With shredded cucumber and lime juice.)

Anyway, to more pressing matters. Easter eggs. In my opinion the best Easter eggs ever in the world bar none are the weeny little Cadbury's Buttons ones that cost about £1. The chocolate egg tastes so much better than normal chocolate for some reason! (Probably the excessive amounts of extra sugar they pump into them when moulding the eggs, but shush.) Then you have the added bonus of finding a bag of chocolate buttons inside. Fantastic. However, I have a bone to pick with the Easter Bunny this year. Did I buy eggs for others? Yes I did. And despite several hints of a not-so-subtle variety about cheap Cadbury's Buttons eggs, did I receive one? No I did not.

No Buttons egg. Not even one solitary egg. Or Mini-eggs. Not even a paste egg that my sister normally makes and stinks my mother's house out to high heaven with a boiling, staining concoction of coffee and onion skins. (Okay, I don't like boiled eggs but that's neither here nor there.) I suppose you know you're getting older when even the Easter Bunny forgets your address. When I have children I really want to hide mini Easter eggs around the garden and make an egg hunt for them. (Or get The Other Half to hide them so I can take part too - that sounds like a better plan.) However hard I try, I don't think I'll ever grow up. Do I have to? Oh yeah, people already think I have. Hence the zero Easter Eggs situation. Harrumph.

Bring on the sangria...

I love a decent catch up session with friends. Especially with those you don't see nearly often enough! Last night I headed out into town for tapas and lots of talking - for a long-overdue reunion with some pals from my MA. This merry bunch of folk included the star guest - the seldom-seen gorgeous gal from Athens who just jetted over to visit for a few days: cue lots of duty-free ouzo produced from her bag for each of us and the rest of the night becomes a bit blurry!

Tapas is lovely but it's lovelier in the relaxed-and-nestled-away-up-the-steep-cobbled-street-restaurant of El Torero. The sangria soon flowed copiously along with the gossip and it was fantastic. I learned all about my pals C and M's new pad in Durham; L's updates on her latest novel (she's up to number three - and I'm very jealous, having read one and two); A's job for a Greek theatre company; as well as everyone giving their lowdown on the recent cinematic offerings (hey, we're all ex-film students so we're allowed to judge). Lots of loveliness.

And to round the weekend off nicely, today is Mother's Day so I'm heading over to my folks' for some Mum cuddles and to bestow some flowers and nice things upon her. I like weekends like this. I just wish they happened more often - I guess I'll just have to get saving for that trip to Athens to make them happen more often!

What's shakin' baby...

Things have been a tad hectic of late, so here's the craic from this week in easy-to-digest chunks:

The seven year itch?
Not a sign of it, huzzah! On Monday, The Other Half and I realised that it was 7 years to the day since we met. (Whilst very inebriated at a party.) Although not our 'official' anniversary (we started dating on St. Patrick's Day), we celebrated with homemade spicy Thai burgers. Well, why not?

The bathroom saga continues
By god, does it. Nothing is ever simple in our house - it's going to take a lot longer to finish than we all thought due to fiddly little jobs that are taking ages to do. The plus side is: we now have working lights in there, yessss! Now for the ceiling, the vanity unit and all the tiling and grouting...

Hospitals smell
The Other Half had his annual heart check-up at l'hopital on Thursday (hole in the heart baby with another weirdly named defect I can't remember how to spell). This was doubly good as they said all is well with him, and because I tagged along - this got me out of a hideous networking event with work. Groovy.

Birthdays times two
It was my Dad and his twin sister's birthday on Tuesday (happy birthday, Daddy) and last night there was a family get-together using the occasion as an excuse. (Not that they need one.) Thankfully this time, family members refrained from horrifying me with all-too-detailed tales about distant relatives' personal lives. And we had cake. Yum.

The wig hunt
Next week we're at a party for my friend's birthday (and a sort of housewarming in her new flat, too). The theme is Father Ted, probably the funniest show in the world ever bar none. I'm now rooting through all manner of junk in the house in an attempt to assemble costumes, but we still need to go on a wig hunt to replicate Father Jack's hair.

All the small things...

Here's a little update on what's been cooking this week:

Being a Plan 'B'
The dating game is a minefield. Blind dates especially. Now, I'm not going to get all sanctimonious here - while I haven't been on one for a very long time, I do know that blind dates can be fun. They can, however, also be a showcase of the biggest rotters and weirdos known to man. This week I was my friend's get-out-of-jail free card, otherwise known as the Blind Date Plan B, should her date have been a psychiatric ward escapee or something. He wasn't - but we still had the code phrase phone call at a strategic time, just in case it went awry. All very Sex and the City, but necessary. He didn't make the cut in the end, though.

2-4-1 equals good times
In these times of economic hardship we're all looking for a few ways to save the pennies here and there. So, when a group of mates and I decided it was high time we met up and had a good old chin wag over dinner, we scoured handbag.com until we found a suitable restaurant voucher. Tight? Us? Never! We're just thrifty every now and then. And what we saved in food costs just went towards the wine bill. Oh yes.

There's nothing like a good bitching session
When you've had a bad work week, sometimes that last thing you need is to rake it over and talk. But sometimes you do. Especially if a few of you have had similar troubles. Anyway, an apres-work drink seemed in order on Wednesday where some coworkers and I put the office to rights. And caught up on the workplace shenanigans - all those juicy little tidbits that are meaningless to everyone else, but to colleagues - they're gossip gold. And all things I couldn't possibly repeat.

My crazy mother
Every time I visit my folks, I come away with random items from her loft. Tuesday was no exception. After a very strange meal that consisted of mashed potato, some oddly spiced carrots and not much else; gossip about people I still have no idea who they are (Mother dearest: "You know him over the road with the bad leg, well he left his wife - the second one, not the one with the bad perm. You know them - you used to go to birthday parties with their daughter." Me: "Who?!"); she produced a bag of bits she 'no longer has room for'. What am I going to do with a school project about the Amazon, a box of Forever Friends stationery and some clay pots I made in school ceramics classes?

Planning for next Saturday
My gal pals are coming over next weekend for eats and drinks. I'm thinking Chinese, since it'll be Chinese New Year. There will be lots of flicking through recipe books and practice sessions in the kitchen, no doubt. And I'm sure The Other Half will happily hoover up the results. Lead-lined stomach, that one.

Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy...

It may be a new year, but things seem to be looking pretty miserable at the minute with the economy collapsing ever more by the day and unemployment soaring. The predictions aren't too good for 2009. So, to counterbalance the doom and gloom we're fed by the news on a daily basis (and because I was a bit bored) I've made myself a happy forecast. All the things I'm looking forward to this year. Here are just a few:

• Feeling 15 again. One of my bestest friends in the whole wide world relocates from the Big Smoke this coming weekend and we'll be living in the same town again. I feel several teenage-homage sleepovers and drinking sessions are on the cards. Splendid.
• The inauguration. A fresh start for those across the pond in a week's time - although I think I along with many others will miss the ludicrous "Bushisms" we're so accustomed to hearing.
• Traveling a bit closer to home. I don't think I'll get away on a transatlantic jaunt or anything this year, but I'm looking forward to days out in places that are on my doorstep really yet I never have time to visit. Edinburgh, The Lakes, maybe a short hop over to Amsterdam or Barcelona, and my friend is getting married in Berlin this summer.
• Making the house our own. The foray into home decoration continues in 2009. Living room is done; porch, kitchen, dining room and bathroom to finish; bedroom and garden next on the list. We'll get there. Room by room, we'll get there.
  
• Vive la France. New Year can be such a let down - nothing magical ever happens when the clock strikes midnight. But I'll be ringing in 2010 with a group of chums in the middle of nowhere in Normandy. Good times lie ahead.
  
• Getting things in order at work. We're due a big office shift-around, and I'll be hopefully sitting with the rest of my team near a window instead of plonked on a row with The Most Annoyingly Voiced Coworker Ever Bar None. Good opportunity for me to get rid of the collapsing towers of paper that appear to have eaten my desk.
  
• Family and friends stuff. Visiting my sister in London Town; a couple of 30th birthdays; a 50th wedding anniversary; a wedding; crazy-themed birthday parties...who knows what else the year has in store?
  
• The Oscars. I love them. Sad but true. I try to stay up late each year to watch them but inevitably fall asleep and end up watching the main winners on the news. Along with the bad red carpet outfits.Hey, I can judge if I want to. They can't hear me.
  
• The next Harry Potter flick. How gutted was I when they knocked the release date back to July '09? Very. And, The Other Half has finally got around to reading all the books - so when we settle down to watch The Half-Blood Prince, he can ask himself what bits they've left out, instead of me. Hurrah!
  
• The longest eclipse for a century. Spacey things have always fascinated me, and this total solar eclipse in July will be lasting over 6 minutes, apparently. I won't be going to Bhutan to witness the event, however - but the t'interweb is a wonderful thing.
• First aid course. I've always wanted to do one and have finally got a place on the big 4-day course through work in February. Tying knots has never been a forte though, so I think I'm going to have to practice slings and bandages otherwise my casualties will look like extras in a war film.

Not too shabby a year, I think.

Auld Lang Syne...

Happy New Year! (A bit early, I know, but I have plans to sit on my backside all evening eating sushi and watching films.) My plans with friends have fallen through but to be honest I'm not really bothered - today I am taking advantage of my new cookbooks (in particular, the one about how to make your own sushi - really looking forward to rustling up some homemade norimaki rolls) and am generally pottering about doing not much besides watch cack films, and will be singing along badly to the party tunes that are sure to grace the airwaves on every radio station across the land.

I have a feeling my sushi-hating folks may make an appearance later on, and I will be kicking out my Other Half into the street (most likely in his knocking-about-the-house shorts and t-shirt combo) just before midnight to be our first-footer, but that's about it. I quite like not having plans tonight. It doesn't feel as forced. Anyway, whatever you're doing and whoever you're with - hope you have a good one. Here's to 2009; may it bring everything you wish for.

xx

I wish you hadn't told me that...

Today would have been a lazy Sunday - time to recover from the previous evening's escapades - had we not impulsively decided to redecorate the living room. More on that later. Anyway, I'm not recovering from last night in the alcohol sense (although there was alcohol involved, but mercifully my tongue was not loosened sufficiently by it to make a spectacle of myself), more recoiling in horror at what was disclosed to me. Things I will not repeat. Ever. Things people had no business telling me and I may well spend a lifetime trying to shake the imagery out of my head. You see, I attended a family party. Now, family parties can be civilised affairs. Admittedly, something will usually happen as most family get-togethers are celebratory situations. The drunken uncle at the wedding who insists you dance to Come on Eileen with him; the old Gran whose teeth fall out after too many sherries at the Christening; or whatever.

Last night's soiree started out civilised. Then the drinks flowed and I had nowhere to hide. It was a housewarming/birthday joint party and the first time many family members had all been in the same room for quite some time. Lots to catch up on. I just didn't expect to catch up in so much detail. I'm quite saddened that I've reached that certain age where the elders are comfortable to tell x-rated tales in front of me. I'd have preferred to remain an innocent. I don't mind hearing about a second cousin once removed who has left his wife, or the misdemeanours of another distant relative. However, the full graphic glory of said cousin's, er, marital relations and the carnal penchants of the another is something I need not know, thank you. And hearing my mother dearest and my aunt using profanities was something I was not at all prepared for. Good grief. They'd have washed my mouth out with soap had I used such language.

So, yes. Somewhat spontaneously, we've decided to decorate. And miracle of miracles, so far have agreed on everything straight up. Job one is re-hauling the lounge - painting the walls, new lamps, sofas - bells and whistles. This room was relatively untouched when we moved in, and it's high time we put our own stamp on things. We've been staring at white walls for over a year. The down side is DIY shops - soul sucking places. You may as well move into one when you're redecorating - you go to all the trouble of using paint charts and swatches and everything, get home and realise you've forgotten the brushes. I'm consequently going to be broke until about July now thanks to this home make-over, but at least my thoughts are occupied with paint colours instead of the disturbing images planted there by my kith and kin.

Running on empty...

Apologies for the lack of posts over the last week. Things have been hectic to say the least and I feel like I'm only just starting to catch my breath. The last week can be summed up like so: work stress, spent too much money at opticians, work stress, hen do, work stress, London, sandwiches, work stress. More on the hen do another time, and I'm still recovering from the horrendously expensive trip to the optician so it's best left well alone for now.

The office is doing my head in at the minute and my workload is really getting to me. Stuff comes in quicker than I can turn it all around and the in-tray - on what used to be my desk but is now where paper goes to die - is literally four feet high. On Thursday we had a very big logistical nightmare to sort out for some publicity photos. The photo shoot from hell. Hard work. Tons of red tape and health and safety gubbins. To be expected really, since the shoot involved an orchestra on top of the giant curved mirrored roof of our building. It all came off ok in the end thankfully and the photos are beautiful. But I'm still drowning in paper.

As previously reported, my little sister moved to London town and somehow my other half and I volunteered to take a car load of her stuff down for her over the weekend. Cue a total of 16 hours on the road and a diet that consisted completely of service station sandwiches and coffee. Plus the odd Malteaser or two. Mmmm, Malteasers. The roadtrip was like Death Race 2000 in places...killer motorbikes stalking us; obliterated caravans by the side of the road; the delays from hell. And my sister had me sleeping on her flat's floor in what can only be described as some sort of black body bag. I felt like Meryl Streep in the morgue in Death Becomes Her. ('These are the moments that make life worth living' - a fantastic quote from that film!) Being drugged to the eyeballs on Lemsips for a rotten sore throat didn't help, either. But, 'twas fun and a nice time was had by all.

Think I just need to sleep and replenish my creative juices. Ewww, that sounded wrong. Pass me a Tia Maria and coke, someone. And maybe a comfy pillow. Please?

Bye bye baby, baby bye bye...

Do you ever wake up some days and feel really well and truly old? Today is one of those days for me. I feel ancient. Preserved and pickled ancient. Firstly, it's my nephew's birthday. Ordinarily this is often somewhat problematic for me to comprehend, simply because I was an auntie at age 12 and have always felt far to young to have such family members. Not that I would change him though - he's lovely. And I don't see enough of him, but anyway. Today, this little boy turns 13. I have a teenage nephew. I'm sure photos exist of me wearing a Sweater Shop jumper (remember those?! I thought I was the business in mine) and changing his nappy. This is not that long ago in my head.

And if you're good at maths (ok, you don't need to be good at maths; it's pretty obvious what the sum is) you'll have worked out my age from that statement. It's not that old when you look at the number literally; but when I think about fast approaching my late twenties, fear strikes my very core. While my nephew is enjoying his birthday party and his last bastion of childhood; I'll be racing towards thirty. Then middle age. Then before you know it, I'll be 50. Then thinking about retirement. Then dead. I think I've managed to convince myself that this is all a very long way off though, so I'll try not to ponder this too much.

Anyway, the thing that's tipped me over the edge today is my baby sister. No longer a baby. Has her own flat and is moving to London with her other half. I don't think it's age or anything that's bothering me here; it's more to do with the fact that I'll really miss her! There was a time not so long ago when you could feel the mutual loathing and seething whenever we were in the same room. We were both evil children and fought a lot, and spent a considerable amount of time getting the other back for past offences. Then we hit our teens and the fighting still continued, but we had delightful name-calling, screaming, slapping and door slamming added to the mix. She'll deny this vehemently, but I swear on one occasion she slammed my neck in her bedroom door. But I used to grab her wrists and pin her down, which she hated. It worked out even.

Thankfully, we both emerged from this hideous teenage era unscathed (our mother was most relieved), and I moved out and she went to college. And we found that we actually get along. Is that called growing up? So there you have it. I wish her luck and know she'll be happy. I'll probably see more of her now than I ever have, come to think of it. Such is the way when someone moves - you tend to make more of an effort! And I've told her to expect lots of visitors who just happen to be passing though London. Hell, a free base in the capital! You can't knock it.

But still, I'm off to look up stair lifts and mobility scooters on t'interweb. No doubt I'll be needing them soon so it's best to be prepared.