Yessss! It's Thursday night and I'm not back at work until Tuesday morning. (Bank holidays and time off in lieu really do come in handy when you're short on the old annual leave.) That's four days of freedom, baby! Or, at least it would be if I didn't feel so icky. As previously posted, I thought I felt a bit funny after The Meal That Was Not Good on Monday (and I thought it might just be because I know my friend was also ill after said meal), but now I'm not so sure. For starters, I haven't actually been ill - and I'm sure something would have made a technicolour appearance had it been food related. No, I'm just feeling - well, icky is the only way to describe it. Run down and sickly and headachey and a bit poorly in general. I hope it goes off soon as there's a food fayre in town tomorrow and being a bit of a food-obsessive, I'd really like to go.
Anyway. Something which put me in a better mood instantly today was seeing a trailer for the next Harry Potter film, due out in July. The trailer is probably nothing new and existed online for ages, but it's sent me into a tizz and now I want to read Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince again, just to make sure I remember the story properly and see what bits they've cut out of it. I'll probably end up reading the seventh book as well for good measure - a) to refresh my head about where the story is going and b) because that's my favourite of the books. Eeeee it's so exciting! Oh, hush now. Yes I know I'm heading for 30 years of age but that says nothing.
And on another completely different note, this also cheered me up no end today:
Cats really do rule the internet.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
No, I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a Harry Potter fan...
Monday, 13 April 2009
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.
Monday, 6 April 2009
Happy birthday to me...
Howdilly ho. And happy birthday to me! (Well, yesterday.) I'm on a week's holiday from work and intend to string this birthday lark out as long as humanly possible to mark (or mask) the fact that I'm now fast approaching 30 and should be behaving in a bit more of a grown up manner. Or something. The flood disaster is almost all repaired (woohoo!) and the damage was not nearly as bad as we first thought, so now I'm knuckling down to trying out recipes from my new Hairy Bikers cookbook and that all-important task of planning my birthday party. (I don't have to grow up straight away, do I?)
So, what's it like being on the other side of 25? It's not so bad. I still consider myself to be mid-twenties. (I can get away with that for another year, surely?) And just to be contrary, so far there's nothing grown-up at all about my planned partay. The theme is the 80s - so we're having an all-out kitsch fest. 80s games, 80s clothes, 80s music, 80s cocktails, 80s crap party food - the works. I need to make a trip into some neon-clad shops very soon for supplies. I have a feeling this party may hurt everyone's eyes with the sheer amount of neon that'll be on display in the house.
Actually, I am being quite grown up at the minute - not only are The Other Half and I visiting his mum in hospital everyday (she's had a horrendous sounding operation to remove some vertebrae and have metal rods inserted in their place - and is on the mend), but I've pro-actively remembered to make myself an appointment with my doctor without receiving the shameful 'your 3-year check-up is now overdue' letters through the post. (Girls, you know which check-up I'm talking about. It's that not-painful-but-no-less-unpleasant procedure that's necessary yet icky.) So, I've got a nurse invading me with what can only be described as a miniature loo brush to look forward to tomorrow. Oh joy.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas...
OK, we've had a flurry of snow (not a lot, and it didn't last very long - but enough to render half the office unable to come into work); it's cold and icy outside; our Christmas tree is standing proud and bedecked with twinkly trinkets in the newly-decorated lounge (after an ordeal and a half trying to get the damned thing to fit in its stand - neither of us had the sense to take a tape measure with us when selecting a tree - that'd be too easy); I've started the Christmas shopping (online - I can't face the shops just yet but may have to at some point) and have more festive gatherings to attend than I can shake a stick at. Christmas is here.
What could possibly make me feel even more Christmassy than I already do? Christmas films, of course! After a viewing of Home Alone today I'm all warm and fuzzy inside and hungry for more holiday cheer. So I've dug out these old favourites for more festive film fun this week:
- Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York: Essentially the same plot in each (self-explanatory if you haven't seen them - an obnoxious but cute and resourceful child being left alone by mistake over the holidays), but so so Christmassy. I want to live in Kevin McCallister's house. And fantastic seasonal soundtracks - Chuck Berry's 'Run Rudolph Run', Brenda Lee's 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree', Bobby Helms' 'Jingle Bell Rock'...they're all here.
- It's a Wonderful Life: The quintessential feel-good film, you can watch this at any time of the year to lift your spirits. James Stewart is perfect in the role of his life - suicidal family man George Bailey who is shown what life would be like had he never existed by a trainee angel named Clarence. It sounds bleak and desperate - but you'll have to watch the uplifting ending for yourself.
- The Muppet Christmas Carol: Just genius. The retelling of Dickens' A Christmas Carol by Kermit, Gonzo and co. Full to bursting of sing-along songs (look out for the singing vegetables in the opening number - all together now "There goes Mr. humbug, there goes Mr. Grim...if they gave a prize for being mean, the winner would be HIM!") and muppet humour, plus a camp performance of Ebeneezer Scrooge by Michael Caine.
- Scrooged: An underrated gem. A very 80s version of A Christmas Carol, with Bill Murray taking sarcasm to a new level as the Scrooge of the story, TV network president Frank Cross. Has a very sugary ending but I don't care - the one-liners and Carol Kane's Ghost of Christmas Present are worth it alone.
- The Nightmare Before Christmas: Bizarre and typically Tim Burton - Jack Skellington, the King of Halloweentown, discovers a portal to Christmas Town and takes over - kidnapping Santa and delivering his own scary presents to bewildered children. But he finds the true meaning of Christmas and sets out to make amends. Creepy and Christmassy.
- Gremlins: Not really a Christmas film in its theme, but set at Christmas and has a brilliant Phil Spector-Motowny soundtrack featuring Darlene Love et all. Quite gruesome in places (the death-by-kitchen-appliances scene for some of the pesky critters springs to mind) but hilarious and filled with blink-and-you-miss-them moments.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...
The festive season is upon us. There's a whisper in the air about the office Christmas party; and while the group of stupid ditzes in my place of work (every office has such a group of empty-headed bints) are already whining about the lack of decent party clothes in the shops and swapping details of their latest idiotic crash diets - I'm happy to report that my diary is filling up nicely with get-togethers and drinks. Both myself and The Other Half are feeling more festive this year. Last year, we hadn't been living in our new pad for very long and were still unpacking when Christmas descended upon us - hence a hastily decorated tree was shoved up in the living room and cards were forgotten about.
In fact, both The Other Half and I have already had our first Yuletide gatherings and we're starting to feel very Christmassy. On Wednesday I had a long-overdue catch up with my two bestest gal buds from my MA - and we gossiped for a long, long time about all sorts and put the world to rights several times over. The Other Half had his official work do (he thinks there may be several Christmas lunches as well over the coming weeks)...and it was fancy dress. Cue some crazy shopping, and my good self and our friend J making a pink frilly tutu for a 6"5 bloke so he could go dressed as Ace Ventura. It worked. J's sewing skills are far superior to mine. Bizarre just doesn't sum up the sight of seeing a grown man dressed in a ballerina/Hawaiian shirt combo.
Monday, 27 October 2008
All the leaves are brown...
Well, they're getting there. They're turning, at least. A couple of weeks ago we ushered in the first official day of Autumn, apparently. I love it. I'm one of those odd people who will go out of their way to step on a crunchy looking leaf (I even joined the Facebook group with other such strange leaf-steppers to let the world know about my addiction) and I've been looking forward to this season all year. I can't quite put my finger on what it is about Autumn that I love - the word 'Autumn' for a start, I suppose. It just sounds leafy and crunchy. I'm also one of those outcasts of society who doesn't give two figs about summer and could quite happily live without it. None of this SAD business. Bring on the elements!
I think it's the seasonal food and smells of Autumn that I love, too. Ginger and cinnamon and berries and other such scrumptious stuff. Ooh, and pumpkins. You can't beat carving a pumpkin (although mine usually end up looking like roadkill) and making a batch of pumpkin soup with the scooped out bits. Some mornings you can almost taste the frostiness even though it's a clear, bright day. A bit like today. Another Autumnal pleasure is walking down a tree-lined avenue when a gust of wind suddenly creates confetti made of foliage. I have to try and catch them. It's a law. I can often be seen outside running after leaves as if they were fluttering £20 notes.
I had been hoping that Central Park was starting to turn all shades of Fall when we were there a couple of weeks ago - but sadly, summer was just ending and the air was still warm. No Fall colours yet. Anyway, we made up for it this weekend with a wander along the Derwent which was just lovely. Although I did manage to slide - standing up - down a slippy hill, and as mud is attracted to me like a magnet, my jeans ended up with polka dot splodges and my boots are now a delightful shade of cacky brown.
Really must invest in some wellies.
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
I have to go powder my nose…
How could I forget to mention my celebrity-stalking excitement?! (Let me just clarify: I didn’t really stalk anyone, she just happened to run into me once or twice. I’m not that much of a loon. And hush, before you retort.) This is the story I will be telling everyone until I die, I’m sure. I’ve already bored everyone at work with it and *blush* emailed the Heat Online ‘Spotted’ column. That’ll be me buying Heat magazine for the next couple of weeks to see if I made it in, then.
Anyhoo, after the plane journey from hell (it wasn’t too bad to be honest, but I only caught about an hour’s uncomfortable doze as the spotlight above me was broken. So, in a pitch black cabin, there was me sitting there like an utter mentalist highlighted with what felt like the main beam headlights of someone’s car) I was feeling pretty rough and trundled through departures to the EU line in passport control. Who should be in the US citizens queue to my left? Only Uma blimmin’ Thurman plus her children and nanny! I had to do a triple-take to confirm; but I’m happy to report that even in my bedraggled state and feeling pretty crumpled after the flight – my hair was in better nick than hers.
After standing next to her at baggage claim (coincidentally, I assure you) whilst pulling my moth-eaten little suitcase off the belt as her stacks of Louis Vuitton matching luggage were loaded onto a trolley, I then nipped to the loo in departures – and who should come in with her munchkins (two extremely cute blonde mini Ethan Hawkes)? I was silently giggling to myself in the stall next door as all three of them took turns to relieve themselves of all the free airline orange juice – then composed myself enough to go back out and exclaim to my confused Other Half that I’d ‘just heard Uma Thurman wee!’
A splendid end to a tremendous ten days. I'll never see Pulp Fiction in the same light again. (‘I said god damn! God damn..!’)
The Fairytale of New York...
Afternoon all, I’m back from my travels and suffering! Not only are my poor worn out soles recovering from marathon Manhattan walking sessions, I’ve rediscovered that jet lag is not a pleasant thing (my good self and lack of sleep do not mix well, as The Other Half will testify vehemently). Yesterday was my first day back at work, which ordinarily is a dire thing anyway but after only 4 hours sleep (when my head is still five hours behind laughing at me and my body feels like it’s somewhere over the Atlantic in protest) and contending with what may or may not have been carried out from my handover list, it’s really badly rubbish.
It was all worth it though. New York was fantastic and we managed to get through so much I don’t even know where to begin. Since we’d been before we skipped a lot of the mega-touristy things like the Statue of Liberty and going up the Empire State building – but still indulged our sightseeing sides and donned our visitor hats with gusto admiring the views from the Top of the Rock and tracking down as many movie locations as we could find. I’d forgotten that the whole city is like a giant film set – every corner you turn you see something you recognise. Hence I spent pretty much the entire time saying things like ‘Ooh, that was in Ghostbusters/Home Alone 2/Enchanted/insert your favourite New York-set flick here’ and embarrassed myself by acting out scenes. Acting which, I might add, The Other Half often participated in. He makes a very good Dr. Venkman.
Anyway, I’m finding my eyelids very heavy today and I’m wishing that my chair was made of fleecy blankets and that my desk comprised of soft pillows instead of piles of post-its, manky coffee cups and the remnants of Hershey Kisses wrappers (the standard office fare whenever anyone has been Stateside). More reporting on the Big Apple adventures later – busy counting down the hours until I can go to bed!
Maybe after a repeat viewing of Crocodile Dundee though?
Monday, 29 September 2008
Sunday, 28 September 2008
As giddy as a kipper (or a big apple?)...
That's me this evening. Even though I'm exhausted, but it's good exhausted. Well, sort of. The shopping-all-weekend kind of exhausted. Normally I hate clothes shopping and trawling round gawd-awful retail outlets, energy-sucking shopping centres and (horror of horror) facing the chavtastic haunt and messiest shop in the world, Primark (actually I couldn't face it after all - I walked past quickly trying to avoid the throngs of teenagers pushing prams. Yes, yes, I know that's a sweeping generalisation but if you've ever had your ankles rammed by a double-buggie-wielding, tracksuit-clad mother in there, you'll know what I mean) - but this time it was for an excellent purpose. I'm going to New York on Wednesday!
And I've left everything to the last minute. As per usual. Thankfully the two day marathon around every shop in the North East (or so it seemed to my poor feet who have now given up on me completely) has paid off and I'm very pleased with my purchases. Even The Other Half, who is a worse shopper than me, has had fruitful expeditions. Although, I've had a blind panic to find my passport (I left it out; I know I did. I came across it a few days ago and said out loud 'Ooh, I'll leave that there where I can see it.' There was even half a ticket in it from the last time I flew. How it came to be wedged under The Box of Stuff in the study I don't know. Perhaps the cat hid it there in protest) and I still don't have any currency sorted out. That will be resolved tomorrow though. Fingers crossed.
So, I have another one and a half days left at work this week, then I'm gone until 13th. Woohoo! It's been almost 2 years since The Other Half and I have had a proper holiday together (i.e. more than 3 days off work in a row; and abroad) and since then I've endured listening to other folk talk about their global adventures with pangs of longing. I'm sure I've already started to get on people's nerves by randomly exclaiming where I'll be and what I'll be doing when they're having their boring weekly meetings; but to be honest, I don't care. Too excited. And that will only quadruple as the hours go by and I (hopefully) tick things off my to-do list at work. (Does anyone else get a little sense of accomplishment when you untick a red flag in your Outlook emails? No? Oh well.)
Look out New York City, I'll be there by Wednesday afternoon. And this time, I'm old enough to drink you dry.
