Jewels

Several weeks ago, I was chatting with some friends about relationships and the like and, as is usual among friends, we each had colourful, true to us stories to bring to the table. When talking about Steve and I, I remarked that while he thought he'd found a catch at the time, he might have chosen differently had he known how crazy I'd turn out to be. And my friend, in a moment of ultimate wisdom, offered the following bit of brilliance:

"Every jewel has its price."

I've thought about that a lot since then, and the more I do, the more I realise how true it is. First of all, with Steve. If you've spent much time here at all, you know I'm pretty obsessed with my Boy. He is the personification of patience, humour, hard work, playfulness and level-headed wisdom, all rolled up in the body of a Greek god. I love him. But he tends to the insensitive side, tries to make me eat salad, and makes fun of me when I cry.

That's the price of the jewel. Totally willing to pay it.

The same analogy applies to so many other things: jobs, exercise, education, the list goes on. Nothing is perfect and nothing is free. You can have a good life, even a great life, but you have to be willing to pay its price.

Which brought me to the thing most occupying my time right now.

The wedding.

In preparation of the big day we are busting our guts all over the place.

• Summer holiday - gone to save money and valuable holiday days
• Yummy, bad for you food - gone so I can be Ms Skinny on the wedding day (and therefore get back to normal in the year following the wedding rather than become a complete huffermoose)
• Lovely meals out - gone to save money for the wedding (which I suppose is ok as I can't eat anything from the menus due to the point directly above this one)
• Exercise - all the fricking time, if I have to do one more squat or lunge or sit up, I may scream
• Evenings - usually spent finding stockists of bridesmaid dresses or cake topper companies or arguing about how many menus we need (two per table or one for each person?)

At the moment, it is all hard, I get cross that I always have no money at the end of each month, that I have to consider what I spend and that I have to limit my cheese in take to a small piece, twice a week.

But, at the end of the day, I reckon this particular jewel will be worth the price.

Or it bloody better be.

Why do I still love football? By Mr Steve

This past football season I have found myself texting the above phrase to family and friends on more than one occasion.

Now let's face we will always love football but from time to time we can't help but question why? I'll start my rant at Man United. This is a team I have no great feeling for or against, however when they snapped Michael Owen up on a free contract, I took note. I've always been a big fan of his and took no time in telling everyone what a wonderfully signing this was and that he was not too injury prone and would have a great season.

Things started ok, average performance but at least he was playing. Then came the League Cup Final, again he started and I was full of it, already saying he will be a good shout for the World Cup. Then, of course, he gets injured. Out for the season and makes me look like, well, a fool really.

My next disappointment of the season (and there were many) came strangely enough from Man United again. As I have already said I have no great feelings for the club at all but as they were playing Bayern Munich, or the dirty Germans as they will now be referred as, I really wanted them to win!

They lost.

Largely thanks to a man I find myself hating and I'm really not sure why. Although he is French which might explain it. I am of course talking about Frank Ribery.

As the season drew to a close the disappointment had really started to kick in.

Portsmouth. My dad's team. I've always had a soft spot for them. They not only got relegated but let's face it they did it in style. Docked 10 points and, at the last count, £110 million pounds in the red. Good work.

Sheffield Wednesday. My team as a junior. Relegated. And, let's face it, have had no money for at least 12 years now.

Not to be out done, my place of work, home town and therefore chosen team of adulthood, Hull City had a less than great season. Relegated. Not just relegated though. Didn't win an away game all season (in fact since February the season before) and, trying to follow Portsmouth's lovely example but falling short, announced that they themselves will be going back to the championship £35 million in debt.

My brother is a big fan of Sheffield United, to be honest I have no idea what they did but I'm guessing their season was over by Christmas. Stuck in mid table. Not very exciting so that's that.

So just a quick recap.

Tip for player of the season. Rubbish.

Follow a different team just to beat the Germans/French. Lose.

Childhood team. Relegated again. No money.

Adult team. Relegated. Less than no money.

Dad's team. Relegated. Even less than no money.

Brother's team. Rubbish.

And so onto the World Cup!

Now before I start on this I need to say again: I do love football especially England. I hate it when people slag off our country, I refuse to read the paper when England lose.

My biggest hate in the world is when so called celebrities do those stupid shows "football nightmares" or whatever they are called. They sit there, slag off their country and think it's funny.

It's not.

We need more pride as a country, every time England play I think they are going to win. I think we have the best players in the world and I can't understand why any Englishman would not agree with me.

I even go out of my way to defend all players when the so called media get bored and decided to attack them.

John Terry really didn't help my case, I'll admit that.

The point is, never have I thought there is a problem with the 'beautiful game', I don't hate the global billion pound business it has become.

Would I change it slightly? Maybe.

But really I just want to see my team win.

So the World Cup, to be honest I don't think I will go on too much, like I said, I hate negative talk about England so I may find it hard to say much. It goes without saying the World Cup is the Mecca of football; the excitement had been building for months really and I was sure this was our time to do well. We had the shirts, jackets, bunting, flags, mugs, cups.... it looked like St George himself had thrown up in my flat.

As a side note, Beckham injured before the start was probably the biggest disappointment for me. The man is a FOOTBALL LEGEND and I think we needed him. So, as with the season before, I'll break it down.

England were poor but after the game I kept saying it will be ok.

After the last group stage I got into a reasonably heated debate with a friend. I, of course, stood on the side of we-didn't-play-well-but-we-qualified-that's-all-that-matters. He, of course, like most people, was on the side of we-are-crap.

He won in the end.

Yes, Lampard scored but really, unfortunately, we were crap.

Now I don't normally do second teams but apart from England, I was enjoying football being on all the time so I decided to follow Ghana, for the atmosphere around them as much as anything.

This was going well till Uruguay cheated and they went out on penalties.

So a final recap:

Best player I've ever seen, injured before the start of the World Cup.

The biggest passion in my life England. Rubbish.

My second team out on penalties, a great feeling of injustice but very upsetting.

But, you know what? Come 7th of August and the start of the new season I will be there full of hope and optimism.

And in two years time, England will win the European cup. You heard it here first.

An Introduction

First a quick sorry for the lack of pastage over the weekend and Friday, my little fish Scatter died. It was vair sad.
But here we are, new week and... a Pink Pants first - a guest blogger, none other than my lovely Mr Steve.

A bit of background, Steve is obsessed with football. Like properly obsessed. He comes from a football family, his Dad and brother are also obsessed with the beautiful game. Aunties, Uncles and cousins? Yep.

So here is his take on the world of football and the year just gone.

A word of warning, it is very football/boy centric, so get in the right frame of mind, beer in hand, other hand in pants, football mouth on and enjoy.

And be nice to him, he is quite nervous....

Coming up...

Hiya young people (FYI I have decided we are all young. Good to know right?),

I have some goodies coming up for you in the next few days - tomorrow, the holiday post which includes zoo stories, wedding tales and a celebrity (sort of....).

And, make sure you are here on Monday where you will get an exciting guest blogger......

STEVE!

Yep, Mr Steve himself will be doing a post on a subject very close to his heart. It is slightly more manish than I tend to cater for so tell your boys and manfolk to get their tushies here as well. And I think he is quite nervous so be nice to him please.

Also, a quick question: is bathroom water the same as kitchen water?

Last night we were in bed and Steve was going to get a glass of water, he asked if I wanted one, I said yes. He then came back saying that the bathroom was really cold.

Now for some reason the very idea of drinking water from the bathroom tap fills me with horror.

Why? I don't know.

Is it the same? Anybody know?

For I am in love

Shoes.

Do you love them?

I do. A life long obsession.

My mum tells a story of when I was 2 years old, she had taken me on the train to South Wales to see my Grandpa and Nana. We pulled into Cardiff station, we saw my grandparents on the platform waiting for us and my Mum let me run to them while she struggled with the buggy and bags.

By the time she got to us, I was finishing a long, babbley story, my Nana and Grandpa listening intently:

"So Gwanpa, I weally need new twainers, pink ones with lights on dem. Mummy said no."

And off we went to Clarks, my mum in disgrace for not getting me them sooner.

See, instant shoe love, even as a toddler.

I have many, many pairs now, mainly heels, there is nothing so beautiful or seductive to me.

My two current favourites, other than the two wedding pairs of course, are these:

Although I nearly break my neck every time I wear them....

And these:

Which are even more beautiful without the tights... but it was December and snowy and icy...

Your favourite pairs?

Just because

And to celebrate my return home... later today.

A cute and silly photo of Steve and I from last summer.

Proper catch up post tomorrow.

Loves x

Good times

Two very exciting things happened last week:

1) I made jellies.

Here (it's a pig, can you tell?):

                                         

And here (a hopefully-more-recognisable-cat):

They were scrummy.

2) As you may be aware from previous posts, my lovely flat overlooks a river. And, while innocently updating my wedding folder (my crazy life, I know), I suddenly heard many, many sirens.

Me, being way too important for little things like sirens to get my attention, ignored them until Steve rushed through, camera in hand, telling me to look out the window.

And there, swimming in the river, was a little deer.

For the next twenty minutes, we watched as no less than four fire engines, one lifeguard van and one life guard boat, tried to coax Bambi out of the water.

Eventually they succeeded and the adventure was over.

And we all lived happily ever after.

A shout out

To my lovely sister Lola!

Today is her birthday and she turns an impressive 23!

Love you Wishstar!

See you when we get into London Town later. Italian for tea?

xxxx

ps isn't she gorgeous?

And, as I am going through old photos, here are two more, one from Lola's graduation in 2008:

And one from mine in 2005:

Incidentally, I like my hair in both.

And, sod it, a final one, from when we were both little, and yes, I am trying to choke her, just a little bit:

Disturbingly my hair seems not to have changed much in 23 years...

TMI....

I was thinking about upcoming blog posts the other day and Steve casually asked me what I was going to write about.

"I'm not sure", I replied, "What has happened recently...?"

"Well", he responded, "Why not write about me? As usual."

I laughed. "Oh sweetie, you have done absolutely nothing amusing in the past few days."

He paused, suddenly indignant.

"I did you!"

Lovely.... but on the plus I make it to the Amusing List in his head.

And that, in Livy and Steve world, is the equivalent of a sonnet.

The world would be a better place

Without onions.

Seriously, they add nothing to the planet.

They smell and taste evil. They spoil every salad.

At the weekend we popped out to lunch, I ordered the tomato and mozzarella salad which usually comes with basil and occasionally some green leaves.

Nope.

This came with shredded iceberg lettuce and hundreds of pieces of finely chopped red onions.

I ate the mozzarella and tomato.

I'll admit that they are slightly better cooked, I can put up with them in a bolognese or stir fry for example but they have to be cooked through. Even then, they are better when omitted all together.

That is it.

And you know I am right.

A moment of your time please

Good evening angels. (It's ok, you don't have to call me Charlie in your response).

Just a quick note to say, that tomorrow morning I am departing for four nights away, two in Chester (anyone recommend any restaurants?) and two in London.

However, do not despair, I have been saving up some goodies for you, all scheduled to come out over the next few days and I will be checking on Steve's iphone although he does not know this yet....

So happy rest of week.

And seriously, any Chester suggestions are most welcome.

Livy out.

ps please don't burgle my house.

My dress

I have her.

And she is BEAUTIFUL.

OK, technically I don't have her yet, but she has been ordered. As a quick aside, why do dresses take so long to arrive? I mean, 10th July, order lovely dress, estimated arrival of dress at the shop... December.

DECEMBER!

Like an entire different season!

Anyway, back to my new crush.

I had narrowed it down to three, all at the same shop. And, when we got there, I was super clear that I only wanted to try on those three.

So, Player Number 1: Sonya, Maggie Sottero.

She is lovely, no denying it. All layers of chiffon and a teensy bit of sparkle. She was always the outsider but I felt worth one more chance. But as I put her on, and the assistant laced me in, something wasn't right.

Sonya wasn't right.

I showed her to my lovely family who had all eagerly come with me. Previously this had been my youngest brother's favourite (yep, he is nine and my absolute style guru, this was the third dress appointment he had come to and at every one he has skillfully picked out the best dresses to try, the parts that work and the parts that don't. Honest to god - my hero.), and sure enough, as I came out, he affirmed that it was gorgeous but that I wasn't 'sparkling'.

So, on we went.

Player Number 2: Summer Royale, Maggie Sottero

Summer was the one I thought I would end up with before we went. Beautiful, elegant and classic with a fun, detachable shoulder strap meaning I could transform it day to night. She had the corset back that I love and pulls you in in all the right places.

But again, as I stood there with my hands on my hips while the lovely lady pulled me in tighter and tighter, something wasn't right.

She wasn't as perfect as I'd remembered, the strap that I'd thought was so cute now somehow seemed superfluous and silly, the super flattering suddenly seemed not so flattering.

Summer Royale wasn't right.

I dutifully presented her and everyone confirmed my thoughts. Not the nicest. They all helpfully said that Sonya was better but that made it just that little bit worse, as I knew she wasn't Her either.

Making my way into the changing room, my heart was heavy, one dress left.

Player Number Three: Well... she is Her so here lies the mystery. All I will say is that she is a Pronovias and in the 2010 collection.

And I put her on. And everything was right.

She was right.

I wore her out of the changing room and, as I showed my glorious family, they all commented on how beautiful she was, how luxurious her silk was, how understated and classic she was.

And I knew.

And my delicious nine year old boy agreed,

'Livy, this is my new favourite, you look all sparkley.'

And that is how I chose my dress.

Seriously. He is

After I posted last night we watched The Big Bang Theory, incidentally one of my favourite shows (is it wrong that I want to adopt Sheldon just a little bit?).

As you may know, at the end of last week's episode, Leonard and Penny broke up. It was sad. This week, we eagerly tuned in ready for the next installment. Unfortunately, they did not get back together, they stayed apart, trying to be friends. It ended and I got on with my book.

Steve, however, was indignant,

Steve: Why can't they just work it out? I don't get it!

Me: To be fair sweetheart, it is a sitcom.

Steve: No! No! If they can't make it then what chance do the rest of us!!!!

ps today I pick the dress - will update asap!

Because my Boy is a child

He is.

Really.

We have the well established tales.... here..... and here..... and here......

And then this morning, he tasted my hair product.

Yep.

You read that right.

HE TASTED MY HAIR PRODUCT.

I had just got out of the shower and started with the hour long (yes, hour long, I have very thick hair) process of drying my hair. I squirt a teensey bit of my straightening product onto my hand and suddenly,

Steve: That smells amazing.... what is that?

Me: The stuff I put on my hair... here

(I shove my hands in front of his nose)

Steve: (after a big sniff) That smells brilliant... like all yummy.

Five minutes later I leave the bedroom to get my straighteners.

I return to find Steve with a disgusting look on his face.

Me: What happened?

Steve: I ate your hair stuff.

Me: What...? Why?

Steve: It smelt of Skittles.

So.... Holland?

So now my back up team are out as well.

Poor little Ghana.

It was horrific, they tried so hard and had so much passion and then stinky Uruguay come along and are hateful and mean!

So, why Ghana?

Well, firstly, they are just so lovely and enthusiastic. They want to win, there are no prima donnas and they play solid football but with flair and fun.

Secondly, they are fit. I fancy all of them, especially Kevin-Prince (and now the poor boy who missed the penalty in the last minute of extra time, Asamoah Gyan. I do that by the way, fancy people who I feel sorry for. I still have a teensy crush on Gareth Southgate which started after Euro 96. I used to hide it but sod it, I'm out and proud now!).

And lastly, I totally tear up when I think of the whole of Africa uniting behind one team. I mean, Europe would never do that, in any sport. We would never go, well, the only European team left is France so we will actively and passionately back them. Not a chance.

When Asamoah missed the penalty, I gasped. When he scored the penalty in the shoot out I cheered wildly. I watched the rest through my fingers, feeling more nervous than I have in ages.

And when, at the end, at their defeat, Asamoah sobbed on the ground, inconsolable, unable to be comforted by teammates. Blaming himself.

I sobbed too.

Am I a over emotional sap? Yes but that's why you love me.

I'm real. Or not.

"She is SO out of touch with reality."

How often do you hear/say that? I hear (or read) it all the time, about this or that celebrity/politician/head of organisation/other outrageously rich person. Honestly, it bugs me a little.

What the hell is reality, anyway? Isn't it subjective? What makes Paris Hilton's life less real than mine? Apparently, the richer and more privileged you are, the less you know about reality. I earn £21k a year so all of you who are rolling it in on £25k for example: You are SO out of touch with my reality.

It would seem that maybe when it comes to defining reality, majority rules. The lives led by the Hiltons, the Jolie-Pitts, the Beckhams, those are experienced by just a few. Less than one percent of British people make enough money to own multiple houses and travel the world and wear designer clothes, while the rest of us at our varying income levels live more frugally by necessity. So maybe that's reality. Reality is living month-to-month, payday-to-payday, having a food budget, not being able to just run out and buy whatever you want, and that's what the elite minority are out of touch with. Yes?

Except . . . that's not reality either, if reality is what the MAJORITY experiences.

The majority of the world's inhabitants would love to have a payday that they actually COULD live on. The majority of the world's inhabitants don't have enough money to even need a budget. They buy food when they can. They never buy a thing that's not an absolute necessity.

The staggering majority of people in the world live on less than £5 a DAY. Nearly half the population lives on less than £1.50 a day.

Those billions of people who are barely surviving are the majority. So if majority = reality, guess what people? We're all out of touch.

Something to think about.

ps isn't bbq sauce yummy? So wrong but scrummy just the same x