Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Apologies and questions

Hello my delicious readers,

I must apologise, I have been naughty.

Yep, you got it, I caved and had chips for lunch.

And, what's more, I didn't offer you lot any.


No, the real reason for lack of postage is:

Monday: I was sulking after Sunday's disaster.

Tuesday: I was still sulking and spent most of my time berating other people for slagging off the England team as, now correct me if I'm wrong, you support a team because you identify with them/belong with them/like them, not because they win. The key word is support people.

Add to that the organisation of an event for my entire company (that's 20,000 people) and I was a busy little bunny.

And when I am busy I tend to be very subconsciously active, you know, thinking even more bizarre things than usual.

Things going through la cervelle de Livy (that is 'Livy's Brain' in French, just to culturefy us) in the past two days:
  • Why is an orange called an orange when a carrot is in fact more orange?
  • Where are all the baby pigeons? I see plenty of adults but no chicks.
  • What is the difference between shrimp and prawns?
  • Why can I never remember the 8 times table? I can do 1 through 7 and 9 through 12 no problem but 8 just eludes me...
  • How can we have a global recession? Surely the money goes somewhere? Is there one very rich person now?
  • What did the first person to milk a cow actually think they were doing?
  • How do flies know how to get in a window but not back out?
  • If moths like light so much, why don't they just come out in the day?
  • Where is Oxford on a map? In fact, the entire middley bit of the country is a mystery to me.
  • Why is all history underground? I mean, whenever Tony Robinson looks for anything, he digs. Did the world used to be smaller or something and now we've just got extra earth on top? Where did that earth come from?
  • Where do all the teaspoons go?
  • If you get up really high and see a rainbow, is it a full circle?
  • Oh and why did I just eat chips? It wrecks the pre-wedding diet plus now I feel all greasy and yuck.
Answers on a postcard!

ps I was talking to a friend about these random unknown things and she came out with,

"I know! I mean, why does water expand when frozen when everything else contracts?"

She is a lot smarter than me. Obviously. I didn't know anything did anything when frozen....

Sunday, 27 June 2010


Don't judge but I am already on the wine.....

For the love of my bum

A few days ago Steve and I went out to dinner in Leeds with some friends, it was a hot and sunny day and we had had long and busy days at work.

Taking advantage of the weather I decided to wear one of my 'summer' dresses, you know, the dresses that are so strappy/bright/inappropriately short, that you can only really wear them in lovely weather.

Indeed it was so delightfully warm that I didn't take a coat - that has absolutely no bearing on the story I'll admit but to travel an hour to Leeds without a jacket seems incredibly exciting to winter loving me!

The meal was scrummy, I ate and ate and ate, chicken and gnocchi, bruchetta, mozzarella, courgette, mushrooms, bread with oil and vinegar (you may not think it is humanely possible to eat all that in the space of one two hour meal - it is). Absolutely stuffed, I relaxed and we started to pay the bill and think of the journey home.

Before we left I decided to go to the bathrooms, I was checking my reflection in the mirror when I decided that, actually my bra felt slightly tight (apparently food goes directly to my boobs... who knew?), having not heard or seen anyone else in there, I quickly hoiked up my dress and undid the clasp.

Just as I was about to redo it, there was the unmistakable noise of a toilet flushing.

I desperately tried to hook faster when the door of not one, but two cubicles opened only to be confronted by me, dress up my back, bra still undone.

I quickly muttered an apology, pulled my dress back into place and slunk out, thanking god that this was the end of the meal.

Saturday, 26 June 2010

Is it just me...

or does 'Vuvuzela' start to sound like a really cool and exotic name the more you hear it?

Friday, 25 June 2010

At least my name is not Mugly

Last night I staffed a work event, it was very, very busy with guests from many partner and external companies arriving and mingling.

While there a colleague who I'm not too familiar with came over to introduce a guest to me and my boss.

"Dr Johnson, this is our Marketing Director, J, and our PR Manager......"

She looked at me slightly quizzically.

I jumped in.

With a broad smile, I extended my hand for a handshake,

"I'm Livy"

The guest shook my hand warmly,

"You're living. Well I should hope so."

And she moved on, no doubt puzzled over the insane woman who, when asked her name, just replied with the fact she was alive.

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Just call me Livy the Smut

A few days ago, as I dusted the TV with one of Steve's dirty socks, it struck me that actually I am quite a skank on occasion.

I paused, thinking of all the ick filled activities I seem to regularly engage in and, in a bid to make myself feel better, decided that they are PERFECTLY NORMAL and NOT AT ALL DISGUSTING and that EVERYONE DOES THEM ALL THE TIME.

So, I'm being brave, here is my Scummy Skanky list:
  • When people are coming over I have been known to just pile all the gratuitous crap that clutters the flat into our bedroom and shut the door.
  • I often clean the bath while I am having a shower, yep, shampoo in hair, scrubber in hand.
  • I have on occasion pulled out a favourite top or cardigan from the washing basket and liberally febreezed it/sprayed it with perfume and then worn it.
  • Unless something is spilt on them, my jeans do not get dirty at all. Honestly.
  • I sometimes eat pesto straight out the tub with a spoon.
  • Likewise tzatziki.
  • Sometimes, on a Sunday, I just don't get dressed. I stay in my jammies and wear no makeup.
  • I have been known to finish off the Chinese takeaway from the night before at 7am the next morning.
  • I generally leave emptying the bin for as long as possible even if this means me pushing everything down really hard and forcing the lid shut.
  • If it is a really yummy food like cheese and I drop a bit on the floor while chopping it, I often pick it up and eat it....
  • If I wake up and can't be arsed to wash my hair and it looks a bit manky, I will just shove it back with a massive hair band thus covering the greasy bit.
  • I don't hoover under anything that actually has to be moved to reach it unless ultimately necessary.
  • I once used hair straighteners to de-crease my top as I couldn't be bothered to get the iron out.
  • And my most shameful.... once I bought a new microwave because I exploded a tomato sauce in my old one and didn't want to clean it.
Please tell me you do some of these? Please? I'm not the only one am I?

Oh and one that people have said is skanky but I maintain is actually genius: my lovely sister told me that she cuts her pizzas with scissors. And it works. It is absolutely amazing! I do it all the time now.

Big skanky love,


The skank post is coming but I couldn't help myself....

Did you watch it?

You did? Wasn't it wonderfully stressful? Seriously, I was so stressed that I ate three full bags of Doritos and not the individual sized packs no, the massive family packs. Pre-wedding diet be damned.

Now, I may be reaching out of my target readership but I really love the football, for me it is just another way to celebrate, spend time with family and friends and shout at the TV which incidentally is one of my favourite habits. For the scrooges that think it is a waste of time, well perhaps it is but it is honestly just an excuse for a party for me.

The only thing missing from yesterday's game?

The gratuitous shots of David Beckham on the bench in his England suit. SCRUMMY! I am a bit concerned actually because David is my go-to guy of hotness and, now he is no longer playing I am having to settle for David James (those hands....) but he is 39, realistically how long is he going to be playing football (and still looking hot)? So who to next?

Glen Johnson?
Too dopey

Frank Lampard?
Too scowly

Peter Crouch?
Don't be silly

Oh and a quick tip for Sunday?

If you paint England flags on your cheeks with £1 face paint from Tesco, you will have residual red crosses left even after you have scrub scrub scrubbed your face.

Which makes it hard to be taken seriously in a finance meeting.

Tuesday, 22 June 2010

A quick hola

Hello lovely people, how are you on this glorious Tuesday? Isn't glorious a nice word? I should use it more.

The one thought on my mind today?

It is too hot and I have too much to do.

That is it.

Come back tomorrow for a post on some scummy and skanky behaviour.

ps isn't Wile E Coyote fun? I am sad that he is no longer on my TV. I miss him. x

Monday, 21 June 2010

Wordy annoyances

'Snuck' is not a word. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SNUCK. It is sneaked. For that matter, 'drug' is just something you take when you have a headache. You were not 'drug' out of bed, or 'drug' to the shops - you were dragged.

The contraction of you and are, commonly misspelled as your'e, is actually you're. The apostrophe goes where the missing letter is, and the missing letters is 'a'.

'Know' is the verb form of knowledge, it describes things you are sure of. 'No' is just a negative.

Do you know the most misspelled word in the English language? It's definitely. I've seen 'definetly', 'definitly', 'definately', and even 'defiantly'. At least they're creative.

Please stop leaving the phrase 'give or take a few' unfinished.

"I ate five doughnuts yesterday, give or take" is not correct. It's give or take a few, or give or take a couple, or give or take one. You can't just go around saying 'give' or 'take', you have to be giving or taking something.

Why yes, it's Monday morning, and no, I'm not happy about it.

And I really did eat five doughnuts yesterday... give or take a few.

Sunday, 20 June 2010

You are wrong

To those citizens of the world who insist upon likening the Twilight series to the Harry Potter series, I ask you to cease and desist.

Each such comparison causes my soul to shrivel and die, for it is akin to likening Dairylea to Brie, Salad Cream to Mayonnaise, Primark to Vivienne Westwood, Johnny Vegas to Johnny Depp. One is a masterpiece, in a league of its own, and the other is, well, a workable but incomparable cheap imitation in an entirely different league (I'll let you work out which is which from that list for yourselves).

I don't care if you don't like Harry. Totally fine with me. Just DON'T tell me that Stephenie Meyer's projects are any more similar to J.K.Rowling's than the simple fact that they both wrote fantasy series which caused worldwide frenzies**, because they aren't.

That's it.

End of similarities.

Thank you and good day.

**Steve asks me to make an amendment - he says the Twilight frenzy is also incomparable to the Harry Potter frenzy. He wouldn't call Twilight's 'worldwide'. So there.

ps I will admit that the boys of Twilight are much fitter x

Friday, 18 June 2010

The Livysphere

The other night while relaxing on my sofa, I glanced around my home. As previously discussed, while Casa di Livy is always clean, it also always tends to be cluttered. Perpetually full of stuff.

While conducting this survey, I made a quick list of the things that clutter la casa and prove either unusable or utterly pointless.

DRY CLEAN ONLY CLOTHES: That I wore the once and then discovered that they were dry clean only and have never worn since as I can't clean them.

BAGS FOR LIFE: Under the sink there are approximately 12000 bags for life. I get one every time I go shopping as I always forget mine. Bag wise, there isn't a life I am not going to be fully prepared for.

SIZE 8 JEANS: That I no longer fit into but refuse to throw out. On Mondays, while Steve is at football, I gaze at them longingly while eating cheesey garlic bread.

ALCOHOL: There are currently 14 bottles of wine and three cases as beer in the kitchen, as well as the optics that are a permanent feature on the wall. There is also an entirely disgusting bottle of Metz 40 which tastes like paint stripper.

WIRES: There are wires all over the flat. Everywhere. Some are in use, most are just there. What are they for? Which appliance do they fit?

LAKELAND CATALOGUES: Always a pleasure to browse though while fantasising about buying a jam funnel and a special avocado slicer. I never will but that is by the by.

LOYALTY CARDS FOR EVERY SHOP IN THE WORLD: Each of which I forget when I go shopping.

And much, much more - seriously, the things I actually use are in the minority.

What crap fills your house?

Thursday, 17 June 2010

To plan or not to plan

Someone asked me yesterday where to start with planning a wedding. I don't know why as I am absolutely not an expert. The only wedding I have planned is my own and that isn't even half done, God knows how it will turn out.

Anyway, I thought, as your Thursday treat, I would give you a quick Livy guide to all weddingy planning tips I know.

1) The first thing we booked were the favours. Honest to god. I would not recommend you start this way, perhaps be more traditional and go for the venue or dress or even date. Was it because I love my guests so super much that their gifts were paramount? No. Don't get me wrong, I love my potential guests (yep potential... I can still erase you Ben) but the real reason was that I found a shop that produced Welsh cakes in the shape of stars.

Yes, you read that right. Star shaped Welsh cakes were absolutely a must have for just engaged Livy. Obviously.

2) We then hit the venue search and literally visited every registered location in Yorkshire, and two in Lincolnshire before settling on the first one I saw. It was a very long process and bless my lovely Dad for coming with us. It was an utter minefield to be honest and I stressed A LOT because in my mind it had to be perfect.

Can I tell you a secret? It doesn't. What makes your wedding perfect is you and your partner and your family and friends and the whole day of it. Venues are nice, some are amazing but it doesn't really matter if it has a monochrome dance floor (really it doesn't). Close your eyes, clear your mind and pick the one you liked best and that you can see you and your beloved saying 'I do' in. That is it.

3) Budget - YUCK! Nothing is more unromantic than working out what you can and can't afford. But you must. I really struggled with it as, well it's hard. We started with what Steve and I could afford and what we could save. That was the only number we depended on as really, it is cheeky to assume anything else! We totally lucked out and have been overwhelmed with gratitude by the financial offerings of our family but, for us, it was important to know what we could do ourselves and I am totally, totally beyond proud that the majority of our wedding is being paid for by us! Oh and that set-a-price-for-all-items-and-stick-to-it mantra that is in every magazine? That is very nice but do some research first, finding that cars cost like £400 for a 10 minute journey is not good when you budgeted £200 for it.

Oh and set up a joint 'Wedding Savings Account', grown up? Yes. But awesome when you get the quarterly statement through.

And everything else will fall into place. How? I don't know, it just will.

Pick what you like the best and want the most and think about who you are. And if you get lost just think about the marriage you are entering into and how fab that will be.

That's what I'll be dreaming about when I munch my star shaped Welsh cakes.

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

A two-question survey, of sorts

1. Will you watch 'The Shawshank Redemption' if given the option?

2. Do you leave your toilet lid up?

I'll go first.

1. Nope. Steve and I had a large-scale debate about this a while back, which culminated in our watching the film again one evening.

I argue: watching the movie is torture. Pure misery. Not worth the grating at my tender heart.

Steve argues: all the misery is undone by the joyous ending. Like, you know, a redemption. He likens it to finishing your last beer and then discovering one at the back of the fridge.

I liken it to skinning yourself with a potato peeler and jumping into a pot of salt water just so that you can feel the relief of getting out.

(A further topic of discussion: we watched it on tv where they had decided to edit it slightly. In one scene, the cutting of the word 'damn' was evident. I was amazed that a movie could show someone being beaten to death, include plenty of references to brutal gang rape, and yet be made more 'family-friendly' by the omission of mild swears.)

I concede that amongst most of you, I am sure I am vastly outnumbered. Most people consider 'Shawshank' one of the greatest movies ever made. I won't argue with the quality of the acting, the filmography, and the score ... all I'm saying is, watching it is not worth it to me. It's just way too freaking sad.

2. Down. Down down down. For some reason the summer has undone Steve's training in closing the toilet. (I don't suppose you need to wonder who gave him said training.) Note that we're not talking about the seat - although he doesn't put that down either. But he also leaves the lid up. Whuh? Why would you want to look at the inside of a toilet unless you're cleaning it? Help me understand.

Your thoughts?

Tuesday, 15 June 2010

I am English, hear me roar! (except when the rugby's on - then I'm Welsh)

So right now I am LOVING the World Cup. I am always into national football and, now don't judge, have been known to tear up when listening to official songs and commentaries on the world uniting - my current emotional song? Wavin' Flag - the official World Cup song, it is all the freedom and coming together that does it, plus the fact that I am generally playing it on my newly St George crystal encrusted ipod.

It rocks.

On Saturday I held a World Cup party for my family and friends, the theme was 'England are going to win' - clearly I was slightly off with that but nevertheless a good time was had by all.

My flat literally looked like England had thrown up in there, everything was St George, everything was white and red. We had England glasses, England plates, England napkins, England balloons, England bunting, England flags, England hats, England banners, England trumpets (which were quickly hidden), England tattoos, England face paints, England shirts, England flip flops, England hand held fans, even England toilet paper (which in hindsight may have been slightly disrespectful so I ruled that everyone could only use it for wees - surely that can't be too bad?).

Anything that wasn't England themed was football themed - football table cloth, football cake etc.. I even bought red and white roses.

I am now trying to work out how much of this stuff I can transport to Steve's Dad's football club on Friday night where we are watching the next match - all of it?

Would that be excessive?

Yes? No?

Maybe I'll leave the roses....

Monday, 14 June 2010

Stupid things I have done

*Put my phone down my bra to keep it safe in a meeting. Unfortunatley this was massivley given away when someone rang and it flashed through my white shirt...

*Once my lovely mum was trying to get me to drink those disgusting pro-biotic drinks. I steadfastly refused, they taste of evil and I was not convinced they are all that great for you. She pleaded with me, telling me to read the back of the bottle and see the benefits. I dutifully read and then exclaimed,

"Actually maybe I should drink them, they say beneficial if drunk regularly and I am drunk all the time."

*One evening, as we were leaving a restaurant I saw a familiar looking man in the foyer. I couldn't put my finger on where I knew him from, spurred on by the wine I had drunk with dinner, I asked him,

"Excuse me, I know you, do you drink in the Duke? Or did your daughter go to Hull High perhaps?"

The man looked at me, smiled and left. Perplexed I turned around to see a wide eyed Steve.

"Why were you talking to Steve McClaren?!"

"Steve McClaren?" I responded.

"Yes, the ex manager of England!"

*Kept the germ busting Flash cleaning wipes next the toilet and reached for them in a rush.

*Met Michael Flately at a posh work event and told him that I loved Lord of the Rings. Cue lots of confused looks.

*Dropped match in to (full) ashtray then realised said match was still alight. I then panicked that I would burn the pub down (yes, I know, it's fireproof  - its an ASHTRAY) but proceed to blow on the match to put it out. I was then covered in a fine coating of ash on my face and clothes.

*One evening, while Steve was enjoying a night out, there was a knock at the door. It was scary Mr Across the Hall (who used to open his door in his y-fronts..) saying that he had locked himself out. Trying to be a helpful neighbour, I offered to help him break in. Credit cards didn't work, coathangers and hair grips didn't work. As I have small arms, I attempted to put my arm through his letter box to undo the latch that way. I couldn't reach and started to retract my arm... only to find it was stuck. Properly stuck. By this point it was around midnight and my arm was beginning to swell. We had to wake three neighbours up to help remove me from said door.

Anyone top them?

Friday, 11 June 2010


Recently I have read many, many blog entries regarding feminism which has led me to spend time thinking about it. I have always considered myself a feminist. And I have never been able to understand why every woman (hell, every person) isn't one. Steve and I often have, well, lets call them discussions regarding the difference between feminism and equalitariamism. In my head there isn't one, men and women should be completely equal and that is the definition of the word 'feminism'. Steve claims the meaning has evolved to now mean that women should be superior to men. He believes they should be equal (see how we believe the same thing and yet are still able to argue about it? What a skill.), he also claims that men and women are treated equally by society. We are not. I can unequivocally say that.

Steve thinks that there are people out there that go the other way with feminism. That promote the idea that women are better than men. I agree that this occasionally happens and I agree that this is not good. But I also feel slightly smug as it has been the opposite of that for so long.

I have visited some websites where these issues have been discussed (and discussed and discussed) and we suddenly get to the crux of the issue. Women dislike women.

You see, many women have spoken up in defense of patriarchy on these websites, and they've been ripped to shreds. That, to me, is paradoxical and counterproductive. Of all the horrid stereotypes and images that jump to mind when we hear the word 'feminist' (bra-burners, baby-killers, man-haters, shrews, whatever), I hope that what we focus on is the feminist ideal that women should be able to choose for themselves what to believe and what to do with their lives. They shouldn't have to stay home with babies if they don't want to; they shouldn't have to wear skirts and bake if they don't want to.

They should be able to get master's degrees and PhDs and top-of-the-ladder corporate jobs if they want to (and be paid just as much as their male counterparts). They should be able to be the money-makers in their households, and NOT the cooks, if they want to. I mean, honestly.

But therein lies the problem. What about the women who want to stay home with babies, want to wear skirts and bake? What about the women who don't want to get PhDs and corporate jobs?

I know a woman who has made some decisions along these lines, what about her? She wants to put off her own education and work at a job she doesn't really enjoy in order to put her husband through a law degree, because she wants him to be the primary breadwinner and acknowledges that, therefore, his education is more important than hers? A woman who is perfectly happy with the patriarchal order, who has gone on her own journey of discovery and decided that she's just fine with things the way they are?

Shouldn't she be able to choose THOSE things, if she wants them, without inviting ridicule from the women who consider themselves more enlightened and empowered than she is?

Why do we sometimes now go the other way? Scorn the woman who decides to marry at ridiculously young age. Scorn the woman that ultimately wants to be a housewife. Scorn the woman that doesn't want to be the MD of a company. Why do we judge each other in general?

Why can't feminism be about women who empower each other, REGARDLESS of the way they live the lives for which they've been empowered?

If you know a woman who's decided to put off starting her family because she loves to travel and study and work, be happy for her! She's doing what fulfills her. And if you can't be happy for her, at least mind your own damn business. Same holds true for the woman you know who is married and has 3 children at 22, because that's what she wants to do. Be happy for her, or mind your own business.

I know I'm not the first to feel this way. Can't we band together and form some sort of league to combat this hatefulness? We should be able to disagree with each other compassionately (perhaps I'll start calling myself a compassionate feminist). We should be operating out of love for each other and a desire to be our best selves - not out of bitterness and bossiness.

For centuries women have fought against men who wanted to deny them the pursuit of happiness, and now we are doing the same thing to each other. What's wrong with us?

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Eye m A gud spela

Why oh why has Blogger deleted its spell check on its updated version.


It means I have copy and paste EVERYTHING into word and back again: SUCKY.

It is just one more thing to worry about, before I could type away like a busy little bee, not stressing about a thing, then click a tab and bingo - correctomundo.

Now? Nothing. Hsdfhsdfhrweotsdfdktwiretirjdjfkkero[cmg and there is no red squiggle.

How do they expect me to learn???

Monday, 7 June 2010

He's back

Oh yes, Steve is back on proper form.

Take this exchange from tonight:

Me: My friend has joined the Facebook group 'Tears are just words the heart can't say'.

Steve: (Looking at me with a look of complete disgust) Tears are just a bizarre leakage of fluids from places which frankly shouldn't leak things. Seriously Liv, I was just a little bit sick in my mouth.

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Honey where should we moon?

Yep, that is the hot topic in the Kerridge/Parham household. Where to celebrate the first few weeks of wedded bliss.

Having done a few gorgeous Caribbean getaways in the last few years, we are aiming for something a little bit different, a bit once in a lifetime.

But what?

As we are getting married in February Mr Parham's first thought was skiing.

Brilliant except that he doesn't ski. He tried once and broke his leg skiing into a brick wall.

I, however, do which is why he suggested it, bless his heart, but while I love skiing and snow and all things mountainy, dropping my new husband off at his ski school every morning while I head off to the grown up slopes does not really appeal. I'm not his mother after all.

So we moved on to bigger ideas, safari perhaps? A definite possibility.

The USA? Loving the tour idea, toying with the New York-Hawaii-Vegas option....

And then I discovered Trailfinders and ordered all seven of their brochures, my poor little postie. I dutifully read them all, punctuating every minute with exclamations such as 'The Galapagos! That would rock!', 'Sydney!!!' 'Belize - that would be phenominal'.

Occasionally these squeals would muster a, 'Sounds interesting' from Steve.

I then found that I could email them direct and get an actual quote (I know, I know, where have I been?).

So I did.

The lady on the phone was very very lovely and spoke with a beautiful, posh accent. She asked what sort of thing we were interested in and, naive little me, uttered phrases such as 'once in a lifetime', 'breathtaking', 'spectacular' and 'paradise'.

She listened intently and then told me about a 23 day trip which included a cruise around South Africa's coast, an elephant safari, a few nights in a luxurious Cape Town hotel and a week on a 5* beach resort in Mauritius.

"Yep!" I squealed! "It sounds amazing! Please send me through a quote and full details. I can't wait to show Steve!"

So I waited, then suddenly it arrived. Popped in my inbox like a much anticipated Christmas present.

Holding my breath, I opened it and clicked on the attached documents. It all looked so good, the flights, the hotel descriptions and then I saw it.

Right at the bottom.


per person

So we're back to the drawing board.

Tuesday, 1 June 2010


That's right people, yesterday I turned 26 years old. I have officially crossed the line into 'late twenties'. Oh how I hate that line. That line is evil. I long for the hot, sexy days of 22. Still, I am meant to embrace the whole thing so for the past week I have decided to devote my energies on making my birthday super special.

Unfortunately Steve wouldn't allow me to wear a banner and hat to our v posh meal on Saturday so I had to ensure that my birthday was broadcast to the general public in other ways.

As I have previously mentioned, I hate it when people do normal things on my birthday. You know, when people go shopping or mow their lawn, basically do anything other than sit around thinking of me. Why?


In order to spread the message, I quickly came up with a scheme that would guarantee to get it people's subconscious.

Yes, anywhere I saw the date '31st May' (incidentally, an excellent birth date, it sounds and looks so lovely), I changed it to 'Livy's Birthday'.

I did this all over the place, work documents, food expiration dates, posters in the pub. Steve stopped me amending a random car's tax disc.

Did it work?

Well... I'm not sure but it made me feel better.