Monday, 18 March 2013

I wait with good intentions...

How are yoooou? It's been so long right? This isn't really a blog anymore is it, no. Oh well.

Here are my latest findings.  I watched a programme on Sunday night called "The Lady that Vanished" or something. And it had so much potential.  But then it didn't and I was left disappointed.  There are several areas in which I would have changed that programme sitting in the comfort of my armchair as my far arse spread further and further.  But it's too late, they didn't ask me.

And THAT ladies and gentleman is what this year's blog is partially about.  Opinions.  Now, opinions are fine, but not ones that seem to envelope all else that exists. I'll give you an example.  Football.  So, if there is a big football match you get all sorts of strange shouty men screaming about what "we" should have done in order to get more goals.  As if their mottled, alcohol/faggy shouty breath is the home of the "answer" to everyone's prayers and therefore, if only they'd been asked their opinions, their "team" would have won.  It's such a nuisance to read these conversations on Twitter and Facebook.

Oh yeah I'm on Twitter now, drop the dead donkey, that's right.  I still don't find it very easy on the eye but I'm getting much more used to it now.  At times it becomes a little irritating if I happen to be watching something on TV that certain comedians are also watching and therefore they are providing (even though they were not asked) a running commentary of their opinions of the show for us all to receive, with presumably hilarious consequences.

What I do like though, is if I tweet an author I like, then she tweets me back.  That makes me feel all great.  Some of the items I've seen on twitter are so vicious, I once got called a "fat lover" because I follow Gemma Collins of TOWIE fame.  Not sure what a fat lover does, but apparently that's what I am.  What a meanie.  I decided to block him and that was the end of that. Clever stuff eh.

Anyway - in other news life is going OK at this end.  Still loving my "hubby" haw haw haw. That word "hubby" exists on  my "list". My list of cringy words. Sits alongside the likes of Titties and Panties. It's right at home there, they're best friends and almost married.

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

The world is spinnin' endlessly, we're clinging to our own beliefs (born of frustration, born of frustration)

Here come the Olympics!  (And don't I know it.)

I'm based in Greenwich (sorry, that's ROYAL Greenwich to you) and it's pandemonium!  (What a great word that is) 
Bo Jo (our mayor) has recorded a load of announcements which are played at regular intervals at train stations in London.  "This is your MAYOR SPEAKING! The games are on their way and public transport is going to become increasingly busy so DON'T GET CAUGHT OUT!" Wow that last bit makes me jump every time. Also, it's weird to have someone say, "This is your mayor speaking"  Makes me feel like I live somewhere like Gotham City where the mayor really is in charge.  Well, Batman is, but you know what I mean.

But yes, it's just around the corner and it's rather exciting.  Although, I am genuinely dreading the commute into work. We've been told that we can work flexible hours which for me is a must. All of my routes into town are f*cked. (Recognised as HOTSPOTS to the Londoner in the know.)  Today I got the train in at 7:20am - this was the sight at Bank underground station.  Needless to say I shall be avoiding this from now on.
Granted it's rather blurred but I was in a mosh pit so that's as good as it gets.

So I thought we'd try to get away from the Olympics by heading down to Dorset for a couple of weekends during this period.  We're going to our friend's cottage for one weekend and then to see my sister in Bournemouth on another one.  BUT I hear that the Olympics are also going to be in Dorset!  Boats or something?  In Weymouth.  (which I thought was called Waynemouth - haha I actually googled that).  My boss  said to me, going down to Dorset in the Olympics, are you wise? Hahaha.  No, I'm not wise - I'm not wise at all. 

The good thing about Dorset is that there's a Farmers market at Bridgeport (I think that's what its called) where they do pork-pies and all that stuff - so I shall make sure I am up early to ensure I have my fill.  Also the W.I. bizarre do a mean home made piccalilli which is amazing.  Makes my eyes water but still I go back for more.

As I see all of these "fit" people preparing for the greatest experience of their lives (reminder: Olympics)  it makes me wonder why I am so chunky? (see above - pork pie)  Honestly though, the flab is on the increase. I'm actually at my top fighting weight now.  Not good hey..   So after a day of troughing on Sunday I decided to face facts. I can no longer get away with saying I am curvy.  I'm a chubber and that's a fact. 

So now that these facts are faced I have been to the gym TWICE this week which is a good thing.  I have also quit the wine and beer so that should help somewhat.  That's been two weeks though and not made a difference yet.  I think this is because I have substituted wine for Tangfastics from Haribo.  They're great.

In other news I've been watching quite a bit of Bear Grylls on Discovery.  I do like this show but I can't really get my head around why he puts himself into such scrapes.  I mean, I get he is trying to show us how to survive should we find ourselves in a similar situation etc. But some of the stunts he pulls are just plain unnecessary.  Just the other day he was in a light aircraft flying over some land, when he decided to tie his scarf or something onto the aircraft and scrape to the floor as a means to exit the flight.  Why didn't he just wait for the plane to land and get off with the rest of the camera crew.  It baffles me.  I like it when he eats disgusting stuff though. And when he gets in dead animal's bodies.

Oh yeah I was going to go into a bit more detail about the wedding wasn't I.  Well, I can't be bothered now cos it was ages ago and I'm over it.  Ha.
It's weird when people call me Mrs. Snow as it makes me feel like an old lady - but it also makes me sound wise.... which as mentioned above, I'm not. 

Anyway - I hope you're all really well.  Enjoy the Olympics.  x

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

It's like I told you honey.....Don't make me sad, don't make me cry...

The feeling after you get married I've been told by many, is that of major surrealism.  This is true and also with my hangover, that didn't help.
That following day (after the wedding) we went for a meal in Blackheath which was gorgeous. We ate a full platter of steak and more champagne.  Which actually, I don't really like.  Champagne I mean.  I like prosecco. 
Oh well that's neither here nor there.  The next day (the sunday) we were heading off to Australia. 

For four years (since last going) I have dreamt of Australia intermittently.  I loved it last time and was so keen for Warren to see it too. This would be our only chance.  So we booked a lovely trip which included, Singapore, Adelaide, Brisbane, Byron Bay and Sydney.  There, that oughta do it.

We headed off to Singapore on the Sunday evening from Heathrow on a Qantas flight.  The duration of this journey was 12 and a half hours.  Christ - very depressing. Luckily there was 'nuff in flight entertainment.  Plus, wine.  That's the beauty of long haul flights.  Free wine.  As we were on a night flight I decided that if I drank x3 187ml bottles of Shiraz that would see me a kip for a good three hours.  But unfortunately this was not to be.  I ended up being the ONLY one awake - well that's how it felt.  I was very jealous of all those peacefully drifting about in Dreamland whilst I re-watched Louis Theroux's weird weekends. (Once you've seen the first 5 mins, you get the jist.  But more on Louis later) 
I think I MAY have nodded off but who knows, the whole thing was a bit of a blur.

When we arrived in sweltering Singapore we had a car picking us up. We looked like we'd been on a sweaty safari and felt extremely grubby getting into the posh Jaguar with suited chauffeur and smooooth jaaaaazzzz playing throughout the journey back to the hotel.  We decided to get a nice hotel for this part of the 'moon, the Shang-ri La beach resort with fantastic suite and panoramic room.  (you can sit in the bath and see EVERYTHING).   The first night we decided to head straight for the bar within the hotel complex and not bother to get dressed up.  So I whipped off my anti-deep vein thrombosis socks and we headed out. (Glam times).

I think the jet lag effected me more than I realised as before I knew it I was rather drunk and mistaking another bar go-er for the waitress and asking her to go and get me an ashtray.  Embarrassing. Bit like when people go into a shop and ask a fellow customer for help mistaking them for a sales assistant.

Eventually we fell asleep but were soon wide awake again at 5am where upon we were STARVING hungry and decided to get room service.  A burger and chips each. (glam)  When this came, it was just like in the movies where they bring it up on a trolley and this magically turns into a table.  As you can see I am easily pleased.

The rest of our time in Singapore was lovely and relaxing.  Unfortunately on my wedding day I was rather over enthusiastic on the dance floor and managed to re-hurt my ankle, so much of Singapore was spent limping about.  We managed to see Anne and John for one evening, they took us to a gorgeous Asian restaurant which was amazing.  Very kind of them it was too.  Warren and I ended up staying out that night and getting DWUNK and running in a fountain (this was to be a theme it turns out).

After two full days and night's of relaxation it was time to head off to Adelaide.  I was SO excited and it was just 7 short hours away.... 

To be continued....

Friday, 4 May 2012

It's you, it's you, it's all for you....everything I do...

So, I'm married.  Shocking I know when you consider that this blog started like a journal not dissimilar to a common version of Bridget Jones.  I've not written for a time as before the wedding I was majorly stressing.  It occupied my every thought.  Well, most of them anyway. 

My bridesmaids stayed over at my Ma and Pa's house with me the night before the big day and I was jolly glad that they were there.  We meant to share a bottle of wine between 4, but ended up sharing 4 bottles of wine between 3. (as there was only three of us). 

Needless to say the night was quite drunken but we had a bloody good laugh ending with me sleeping in my old single bed which I'd had since I was eight years old.  It felt quite fitting to be back in that old (wooden) bed.  End of an era and all that.

The next morning I felt OK but had to go to the hairdressers on my own as my stupid hair wouldn't go all curly without the aid of an old lady big head hair dryer thing.  By the time I was done there I was a quivering MESS.  Panicking so much that I wouldn't be home in time for the makeup artist.  When I did eventually get back  I had to use the potty double quick.  Sorry but its true.  At which point my husband to be had his brother deliver me a beautiful Tiffany Bracelet to say how much he loved me etc. Obviously owing to the above, I couldn't get to the door to retrieve it.  Oh well, the thought was there.

I needed to pull myself together so after a few deep breaths and my mantra thought, "What would Kate Middleton do in this situation?"  I decided that a blubbering, large red faced, Bride, was most unbecoming.  A glass of champagne soon put me right.

All too soon the black cab was at the door but by now I decided to treat the whole wedding like one of my comedy shows.  As in treat it like a play. It's not real, go with the flow.  By now all of the Bridesmaids and my mother had left to go to the venue and it was just me and my Pa left.  At this stage I started to rattle off a large list of products I would need to accompany me to the venue, ie: hairspray etc.  Bless him, he would trot off upstairs (I couldn't get upstairs as my dress was too boofy) to try to get me the item requested and return with random jars and potions which were totally irrelevant. (He reminded me of a lovely doggie. Go get the bone! Go get the bone!  *Comes trotting back with a coat hanger.*)  Ah I love him I do.

Aaaaanyway we got to the venue eventually and I needed a large glass of wine to calm my nerves.  Which I had. 
We got married soon after this and it really was a lovely ceremony.  Leon did a reading and my friend Evie sang an opera song.  Warren (my husband) was a bit emotional but it showed he loves me very much.  Or he was regretting being there and wished he could run away. Well too late now.

The rest of the day went incredibly well, the weather was AMAZING.  Blaring hot sunshine, it was like a proper summers day.  I found the bit when we had to photos quite boring - often declaring angrily after copius clicks of his camera "Right, you've got your shot"  (Like Jordan) but the photographer saw the funny side. I think.

During the meal Warren and I had decided that as a present to my niece and nephew we would give them one of those 4 foot blow up remote controlled sharks that appear to "swim" through the air.  The shark came into the dining room during the thank-you's and then continued to "swim" around throughout.  Unfortunately during a particularly moving part of Warren's speech the shark decided to obscure the videographer's lense and there it remained for it's entirety.

The evening party was extra jolly indeed. We had a dance off of course which was basically pure carnage and at this point the evening no longer looked like a wedding reception. But hell, I was too happy to care. 

At the end of the evening I'm told I took hold of the DJ's Microphone and exclaimed how happy I was that everyone had come, that they'd been a great audience and what a fantastic show.  Of course, this meant, it was time to go to bed.

Really, really was a great day and I felt very lucky and happy indeed.

Next installment - the honeymoon. :-)

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away....

WELL! What a bloody wash out that Christmas was. So Christmas Eve there was I, merrily watching my usual "Scrooged" film feat: Bill Murray and troughing my usual quantities of food and wine. When all of a sudden as I was about to go to bed, I started to get a tummy ache. I shrugged it off as too much food and went to sleep. All of a sudden at about 1am, I was awoken by that horrid griping feeling, known as the dreaded sickness bug. MAH! Both ends as well. So that was Xmas day out for me. I was supposed to cook Nigella's turkey recipe for seven people as well. BAH. Rubbish. However, every cloud I suppose, it meant I didn't eat vats and vats of food, and vats and vats of wine. That can only be good news no?

I got some great presents though which was cool, won't bore you with the details or as SOME people KEEP putting on Facebook when listing great stuff that's happening to them, "Bliss".... OMG! SHUT UP!
EG: "Kids in bed, logs on the fire, chestnuts a roasting, jack frost nipping at my nose and just opened up a bottle of wine for me and my hubby....Bliss."

I had a really nice Christmas break though in spite of the obvious. Went to see my nephew and niece which was lovely, in Bournemouth. Ah! Alex is so sweet... He fell over and hurt himself and as he was finishing crying, he goes "Mummy, I feel really sad..." Ahhhh. Poor Palex. Bless them both.

I also managed to do more outstanding wedding stuff. It's turning into much of a chore now, almost like homework. This latest task was the dreaded table plan. We've had all of our replies in now, and ones we haven't received we are presuming aren't coming. The table plan was a PALAVA and a half but eventually completed it. Also sorted out the "tasting" at the venue. We are taking mama and papa to help us gobble up the food. Guests get a choice of three dishes, which I find quite hassly. But apparently not everyone likes Beef. Dunno why. Its yummy.

In other news, if I were to try my wedding dress on now, it would actually be too small. Ha! So the plan to lose weight hasn't worked yet! But I'm not ruling it out as have embarked on the latest diet craze, "17 day diet" which worked a whole 10lbs for my sister and 1 stone for my brother in law. I am on day 2 currently and so far so good. I know when I look back at all my blogs this is how they ALL start off at this time of year. But THIS TIME if I don't do it, I shall be a pudgy bride. I cannot bear it. I simply cannot.

I will keep you updated with my progress.

Till next time.

Friday, 18 November 2011

You turn around and life's passed you by. You look to ones you love and ask them why? You look to those you love to justify...

G'day! Yay it's nearly CATurday. My favourite day of the week.

Have you seen the John Lewis advert where the little boy is counting down to Christmas Day as he can't (apparently) wait to give his Mum and Dad a present from John Lewis?
Well, I'll agree it's rather sweet and he has a rather nice smiling cherub face. But the facts are these. No way could he afford to shop in John Lewis, nor would he have been able to go there without his parents to accompany him. Maybe his Nan went with him. But that doesn't explain the cash flow issue.

I myself at his age was receiving a mere 50 pence a week pocket money. With that I would go to the shops down my road (before Thundercats started) to buy Happy Shopper lemonade or cola, some penny sweets (which really WERE a penny, as opposed to these days... honestly I went to the cinema the other week and bought some Pick n Mix and I was disgusted to find that a few fizzy strawbs and shoe laces came in at a whopping £3.41!)
Then my friend Julia would come and knock for me and we'd guzzle our hoard in front of Snarf , Liono and the gang.... Then the following Saturday (which was the only day I was allowed sweeties) we'd do the same again. John Lewis? My arse.

I remember I could make my pocket money up to more by doing chores. So if I did the washing up I'd get 40 pence mid week (per washing up) and 70 pence for Sunday washing up. And once, I managed to save £3.20 which I was going to buy my mum a birthday present with. I was so pleased I'd managed to save it all up. I went down the high street with my mate Cheryl and somehow, managed to lose my purse. I was distraught, we searched everywhere and eventually found my purse, empty of it's contents. I ran around bawling for a bit and finally went to Iceland (in those day's knows as BEJAMS) and found my sister who used to have a Saturday job there. And through snot and tears explained my predicament. She took pity and stole £3.20 out the till to give to me. (I think it was also to get rid of me, for I suspect I was making a scene:-))

Bless me and my poorness. When I was 14 I got a Saturday job in Curtess shoes which was in the corner of Peacocks (very depressing) and I used to do 10am - 2pm for £2.43 per hour. Then I could buy as many Happy Shopper cola's as I liked.
I do think it important that kids get Saturday jobs early on because it prepares them for later life in the work place. In all seriousness I can usually tell people that haven't worked until after Uni/A-levels even at a part time level. It's quite obvious in fact. Therefore it shall be compulsory that my child does a few hours a week part time when they're 16. (I think that's the earliest kids can work these days).

Right, so I've read this back and I sound like an OLD LADY. What the EFF. I've changed. The other day, me and Warren were at a dinner party at our friend's in Wandsworth and we were remarking on our heating and congratulating ourselves on the fact we've not had our's on this year so far. WTF?! Bloody Ell Barbara.

I saw my friend Evie on Wednesday and stayed at her house in Archway. We had a very good laugh but too much wine and too much Youtube. Drinking and Youtube is not a good idea for it never ends. As soon as you watch one, you remember another and another and another and so on... This one is my favourite at the mo...

(Happy Birthday to the GROUND!)

Anyway - lunch over - have a lovely weekend y'all.

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison, take me, tttake me....

SO! Long time no type! Lots has been happening and as the wedding looms I feel rushed off my feet.

The most recent event I can recall is attending the EMA's as a talent escort last weekend. I ended up looking after Selena Gomez, band, backing vocalists and dancers. It was hard work and my feet were killing me. I saw the following celebs, Lady Gaga, Chris Martin, Queen, Snooki and JWOW (a highlight for me, I love Jersey Shore), Jessie J, Katy Perry, Bruno Mars and quite a few more. Some of course I didn't recognise being an old lady. Like LMFAO (is that the right acronym?). They do that "shuffling" song where they do the running man in unison. It's all very clever. The whole experience was really cool - but way too much being on my poor old feets!
Thus ,me and my mate Trish quickly realised, that we were "too old for this shit."

In other less interesting news we have completed and await our wedding invites. Now, this part of the process was the biggest CHORE for me. In the end I got this amazing task (surprise surprise) and I have to say it was an ordeal. In the end, I copied and pasted all wording from pretty much all of the invites I've ever received up to date. Sorry but WTF. BORING ALERT.

Warren and I have had a few bickers over who does what for the wedding. In other words I'm thinking of the stuff to do and then doing it, and he is doing the stuff I think of for him to do. He's like, "I am helping just tell me what to do?!" And I'm like "why can't you think of it for yourself? For example how does the CAKE magic itself there Warren? How? How?!" Ahem. "And how do the fu*king bows get magically on the back of the chairs?! EH?!"

Bless him really. It's more of a woman's job I'm afraid to say and we're nearly there but not quite.

So I watched "I'm a celebrity" last night and BLEUGH. Freddie Star makes me feel sick. Generally. Also why did Iceland advertise food that replicates anus's after that task? Don't they get that the public will now associate a prawn ball with a turkey's ACTUAL bollock? Fuck that was an over sight and a half. They should have just had Stacey soloman shimmering about in disco mode during the break. Then we could just go back to associating camel's toes with her in general as opposed to their food which as I understand it, is there BREAD AND BUTTER.

This weekend just gone Warren and I decided to go for a weekend away to a quaint little village in Kent, that's haunted. Actual Yvette Fielding (of Sea view in the 80's) has been there and everything. We didn't see a thing but I was still too scared to get up in the night and go to the toilet. Instead waiting until Warren awoke and then I scuttled in straight after him.
Talking of Yvette Fielding and the 80's. My mum and dad have just recovered a load of annuals from the 80's namely GIRL and JACKIE. I had a good old read of these and they're well blunt. Their diet tips are harsh. Writing stuff like "to avoid being a fatty"... haha I recommend.

Right just a quick one today.

Till next time.