Why hip hip hooray!

Today is my birthday.

My 27th birthday to be exact. Although I somehow convinced myself that I was actually turning 26 and commented to Steve that 26 was very much nearing my late twenties. I was quite upset when he broke it to me that actually, I was already 26 and would be turning 27 which is most certainly late twenties.

Right now I am quite sad, yes, it is my birthday (which should really be a public holiday by now, I mean, I have only ever had one rainy birthday in my life and even then it was one of those tropical balmy thunderstormy days, therefore, with practical guaranteed sunshine, everyone would love the day off), but I am at work.

And my lovely little fish Barry (who I have had for five years) died.

But I do get champagne and fondue for dinner (yep, a dish made entirely with cheese, wine and bread - can you tell that I deliberately choose completely bad for me food for my birthday).

And I did take myself out for lunch today, and had a white wine spritzer so now feel all naughty at my desk.

So, many happy returns to MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! And you should all have cake and wine for tea in celebration xxx

Confession Number 2

When I am buttering bread I always make sure that I have a little bit of superfluous butter on the knife so that when the bread is all nicely buttered, I can lick the extra off the knife.

Yummy.

It is very different from sticking my finger in the tub. This is just using the extra up. I am reducing waste and helping the environment.

Steve judges me.

Confession Number 1

I know other people don't like them but I am rather partial to mushroom vol-au-vonts. And quiche.

So there.

The story

I knew you would want to know. I just knew it. So, in between my sexy hobbling and super cool ouch faces, I thought I would take some time and tell you the story of how I did a David (yes, I have indeed done a David, possibly more than one now I dust the memory bank, but unfortunately not THE David despite the fact that in the photo below he is doing the bedroom eyes) and broke my metatarsal.

My mother always says, why let the truth get in the way of a good story so I will be as sensationalist as possible today. Are you ready....? You best sit down.

On Saturday, I stood up.

Yep. That is it.

I was sitting and then thought, I know I will get up. Only my little foot did not agree and something clicked and reduced me to the hot limper I am today.

When I told Mr Doctor this he was understandably alarmed, I mean, bones don't just break themselves for the hell of it and he pondered aloud about worrying sounding Serious Illnesses that would weaken the bones.

Sure, why not, I thought, I mean, with all the stuff I have been through during my brief time on the planet (Jeremy Kyle would have a field day with me....), I have already worked out that I must have done something pretty naughty in a past life so what is a Serious Illness thrown into the mix?

While I was thinking all of this my lovely doctor (who's middle name is Grieg by the way - I thought you'd like to know) announced that in actual fact, I was not dying, but that I had managed to have a hairline fracture from this which, combined with working out like a maniac for la wedding, had made my little metatarsal to just give up.

And that is the full story.

Love,

Livy-don't-call-me-hoppy-Pink

I knew there we had something in common!

I know what you are thinking, 'God 20 year old Livy and David make an attractive couple', and you'd be right. I could feel the love he had for me that day and now, just to solidify our bond, we have something even more random in common.



Yes, I have broken my metatarsal and have been told to keep weight off it for a few days (well, he said a week but a girl has places to go), to avoid heels and to use a walking stick.

I tell you now, my 27th birthday in two weeks is going to be the sexiest yet....

xxxx

ps my tv has also broken, the picture is all funny, how am I meant to fill my time at home when I can't move and have no tv!!!

Today my first thought was...

that I really wish my eyes and mouth switched places.

That way, when the bright bright sun glared through my curtains at 5am, I could pull the duvet over my head and not suffocate to death.

That is all.

This just in!

Steve, my husband of two and half news is starting a revolution against the news.

I believe this all started after the referendum last week. He took great offence at a certain newspaper's, lets call it the Faily Schmail, headline that 'Democracy Won'. This led to multiple rants on the definition of the terms 'democracy' and 'referendum'.

There have been odd displeasures all week until tonight, currently the BBC 10 o'clock news is on. It is 22.19 and he has not paused for breath for around 18 minutes. It started with a reporter standing outside Heathrow when 'he could be sat in the studio', it progressed to the lovely Huw detailing the economic situation in what appeared to Steve to be a biased way, then he ranted about them using the term 'coming up' as the news is meant to be non profit so they should therefore give the most important stories immediately and not try and keep us watching and finally, the last straw, the reporter with the whiney voice came on....

Oh wait, they just said that they were reporting from Akrotiri in Cyprus and suddenly,

'Hey, Liv! I was born there! Great huh?'

No no no....

As you may be aware - Livy lika da names. A lot.

So you can understand that what I say isn't meant maliciously...

Mariah, I understand that you are probably very tired, very happy and very hormonal so I am going to cut you some slack - Monroe for your girl twin isn't the best but, OK, it is an actual name and not totally heinous. But your boy twin.... Moroccan? Seriously?

It isn't a name, it isn't even a noun, it is an adjective and nationality! And your reason behind it? That the top-tier of your New York City apartment has Moroccan-inspired décor? I could have maybe have forgiven 'Morroco' but Moroccan Cannon? Mimi just got madder.....

A catch up and a question

Hello chickadoodles,

How are you? I am very well and recovering from the double bank holiday weekend. Yep, still.

So lets get down to business ('to defeat the Hunns' - seriously, just me who loves Mulan?), I LOVED the Royal Wedding. It was awesome and I adored everything, the dresses, the guests, the hats, the Queen, the kisses, the carriages - totally worth the 7am start.

The thing I loved the absolute most though was the national excitement, it was wonderful to see all the excitement and I felt very proud to be British.

So what else has happened?

I got a fat lip (thanks to a combination of flipflops and a bottle of champagne), I sang American Pie with 15 other people in a teeny living room, I pondered the fish disappearances from my brother's tank (we really need to install a security camera in there...) and I watched a very drunk, very dear friend, make a total fool of himself in many many ways, so many I can't actually list them but I will share my favourite of him randomly dancing outside the kitchen door in our local pub, by himself, in front of many tables full of hungry family diners. It was like having a small child to monitor, only harder as he is much bigger, can run faster and knows all the swear words.

So now I'll be off to ponder what to have for tea - do I be good with the stir fry or do I get a Chinese (yummy and would solve my tuppaware shortage which would in turn mean I could make lots of healthy, freezable meals for the future?)....

Loves