Ssshh up, I'm talking...

Dilemma of the Day

2012-02-15T17:02:00.000Z

Three afternoon snacks of the week left.

Three yoghurts left.

One strawberry, one raspberry, one apricot.

I love the strawberry. I like the raspberry. The apricot is ok.

Do I apricot it today and get it out the way knowing that tomorrow I am at another, desperately awful site at work so apricot would only be kicking me when I am down and that Friday deserves at least a raspberry?

Hmmmm......

And sleep....

2012-02-14T19:59:00.000Z

Since I have been up the Hilary, one thing above all others has been true: I am knackered. Tired does not cover it. My usual post work schedule is thus:

6pm - Get in, make pleasantries with Steve
6.30pm - Argue with Steve over tea as I don't feel like anything in particular and the fact that Steve tries his hardest and comes up with a million options that don't appeal is obviously his fault
7.15pm - Eat tea
8pm - Fall asleep in the big chair while Steve watches TV

Last night was following the same pattern except, as I settled down cosy with my blanket, ready to doze off, safe in the knowledge that Steve would wake me around 10.30pm, ready for bed, but then I noticed a noise.

A snore.

Momentarily I was startled. Was I already, in fact, asleep?!

Quickly I realised that it was in fact a certain Sir Steve who was quietly snuffly and grunting in his sleep on the sofa. This was an issue - I couldn't sleep now! No, I was now the responsible one; the one who was relied on to get us to bed at a reasonable hour; the parent who rouses their snoozing children and turns the telly off.

I did not like this.

And I knew, knew, that the only option was to wake Steve and head straight to bed.

Unfortunately I accidentally decided to fall asleep myself as well.

Which is why we both awoke in the living room, tv on, lights on, grumpy at 2am.

Pink and cute and fluffy and needed

2012-02-09T10:17:00.000Z

I have spoken before about my Valentine's Day thoughts and this year Steve and I had an agreement. As our anniversary is on the 26th February then we would make no fuss for Valentine's. Just cards, maybe a takeaway or nice homecooked meal. We don't need all the extras and fluffy hearts and besides, I can't drink anyway so why bother.

So I was all buffered up when I went into town yesterday, no temptations, I was stalwart. I ignored all the pretty things I saw in Debenhams, I distracted myself from the sparkley, pink trinkets in House of Fraser with a delicious bowl of porridge and an apple juice and then I came to Paperchase.

And there they had lovely things. Like this:

And this:

It was all so lovely. But I was strong! I was good! And I left.

I went to Marks and Spencers. I breathed deeply and was sure that I WOULD NOT buy anything. And then I saw something so wonderful, so fantastic that you would have been cross at me if I didn't get them.

Heart shaped marshmallows!

Have you ever heard of anything more fabulous?

Which is why I have four packs of them, some pink floating candles and a special dine in for £20 Valentine's dinner....

I told you there was news coming....

2012-02-08T10:23:00.000Z

I am pleased to introduce you to the newest member of the Livy/Steve household. Who, although small and hidden, is making him/herself very well known.

The baby will be arriving in August and, while I am sure there will be (many) baby related posts, that will not be all I will talk about and, if I start referring to myself as Mummy or Steve as Daddy then you have permission to berate me.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-27T16:19:00.001Z

What? Don't you usually wait until the 27th January to say that?

No?

Ah!

Apologies for the absenteeism. Twas vair bad of me. I have had complaints and my knuckles severely wrapped (rapped?).

A belated New Year toast from me and my favourite girls, aren't they scrummy?

So, what's new in the Livysphere?

Well, right now, lots of plans. Lots and lots of plans. There are big changes a foot.

Starting with the news that we are in the middle of getting a new kitchen installed in our flat by Mr Mumble and Timmy Mallet (well... Martin and Dave but the descriptions are apt). I will post tomorrow with some pictures of the process, it involves a lot of dust. I know, how good am I to you? Pictures of a blog person's kitchen in various stages of dress and undress! Also coming up will be a full wedding report (to mark our first anniversary, obviously), a profile on my favourite photographers and designer and the story of The Legendary Night When Steve and Livy Believed They Could Speak French.

In other news I was in a smaller ~~slightly backwards~~ local town nearby (think inbreeding) yesterday and, due to said kitchen adaption, I needed to buy something for breakfast. I popped into the Tesco there and, bypassing the gigantic sign announcing a new product named 'Quorn' (yep, new to the town....), looked for some cereal bars.

I searched; I looked in the cereal aisle, the biscuit aisle and even the crisps aisle before giving up and asking someone. Now, being the numpty I am, I asked for them by brand name, much as you would, I'd imagine, if you were looking for Weetabix; I politely enquired if the nice man could tell me where the Frusli were.

He momentarily looked confused before confidently leading me on a 3 minute fast paced walk to another aisle. He strode down to the middle section of it, with me stumbling over my feet behind to keep up.

He stopped. He pointed.

"There you are love. But here we just call it Twisty Pasta.'

It's all about the Porn Star Martini

2011-12-14T14:54:00.000Z

After my last post the lovely Peridot innocently asked what a Porn Star Martini was.

The short answer is the most delicious and bestest cocktail ever.

I discovered it on my amazing hen weekend last year in Obsidian in Manchester (now 24 Bar and Grill) and have been hooked ever since. It is scrummy, passion fruit based (hello fruit portion!) and comes with a shot of champagne on the side!

Here is its entry on the Obsidian menu:

PORN STAR MARTINI - Obsidian’s home-infused vanilla vodka, shaken with passion fruit, lemon, pineapple and sugar, served with half a passion fruit and a shot of Champagne on the side.

Tis marvy I tells ya!

I googled for a recipe (so much fun googling 'porn star' at work) and this is what came up:

Porn Star Martini

Ingredients:
1 tbsp vanilla sugar

50 ml vanilla vodka
25 ml passionfruit liqueur
10 ml passionfruit puree
Squeeze of fresh lemon
Dash of pineapple juice
fresh passionfruit, to decorate

50 ml champagne

Method
1. Put all ingredients except the champagne and the fresh passionfruit into a shaker.
2. Shake and strain into a martini glass. Decorate with half a passionfruit on top.
3. Prepare a 50mlshot glass and fill with champagne.
4. To drink, sip the martini and champagne and mix in the mouth.*

*Feel free to ignore this bit. If you are classy, like me, then you will simply down the champagne while giggling wildly.

All photos from my hen do and courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

MIA

2011-12-13T12:40:00.000Z

I know, me right?
It has been a tad crazy at Casa de Livy for many reasons; some boring such as work (sooooooooooooo thought I would have won the lottery by now) and some exciting like house shopping (still not there yet), car shopping (ditto) and drunken breaks away with friends (never have so many Porn Star Martinis been consumed).

But I am back and, with my lovely autumn all done, I am all about the Christmas! Oh yes. I have had my first apfelwine and made my first ever Christmas cake (thank you Delia) and I am good to go!

As well documented, I am a big fan of Christmas. And my new thing this year? Snowball Dough Balls. Yep, Pizza Express have launched a dessert featuring their scrummy dough balls sprinkled with cinnamon (it also comes with some kind of sauce but I didn’t really pay attention to this, I was too busy trying not to be recognised by the waiter who had served me the night before in the very same restaurant).

Even better, the name is super fun to say!

ps anyone else obsessed with cinnamon? I LURVE it. So far I am putting it on toast and buying copious amounts of cinnamon swirls but I could do with some cinnamon inspiration please!

The skank returns

2011-11-26T19:53:00.001Z

I am going to tell you a very embarrassing story.
It is a story that happened a good while ago that I decided should NEVER see the blog but having divulged to a couple of friends who laughed their bums off (thanks Vicky and Adam), and, with the wrong side of a bottle of wine in me, I have decided to share.

It was a Friday night. We were going out to dinner with some friends. Late in from work, I did the panicked quick shower that my busy life seems to be making all the more frequent (ah, half hour showers, how I miss you) before diving into the bedroom to throw some clothes on and head out the door again.

Hurrying, I grabbed my trusty pair of black jeans that were languishing on the chair, I pulled them on, selected a top and headed for the door where an impatient Steve was standing and tutting.

We made our way to the restaurant, Steve striding ahead (damn his 6’4” legs)*, me tripping over my heels behind him.

At the restaurant, we saw our friends and sat down.

Which is when the itching started.

The back of my left thigh, just at the top wasn’t right, it was itchy and irritating. I wriggled on my seat, all the time maintaining an air of sophistication and trying to listen intently to my friend as she told a story about… something….

After ten minutes of wriggling to know solution or relief, I decided that action must be taken and announced to the table that I was heading to the toilets.

Shutting myself in the cubicle, I ripped off my jeans in hope of finding whatever irritation was there. I was reading to kill any angry mosquito, cut out any scratchy clothes label and plaster any cut or graze.

And that is when I saw them.

My knickers.

No, not the ones I had put on that evening. No, an entirely different pair.
In my haste to get changed, I had simply pulled my jeans on, trapping the little lacy thong between them and my leg.

You'll have to guess whether the knickers were clean or dirty...

* I will just clarify, he is 6'4", not his legs!

Hoochy Livy...

2011-10-29T15:20:00.002+01:00

Now, I am a bit of a hooch, I'll admit it.

And when recently Steve had the opportunity to get free JLS tickets, I was very excited. I mean, what would be better than me, a super hot 27 year old, going to a concert of four super hot 21 year olds?

And then I thought some more and came to a conclusion:

Steve: So, are we getting the tickets K*?

Me: No.

Steve: Why? They are free!

Me: It just won't end well. The only result is humiliation for you.

Steve: Do I want to know.... OK, why?

Me: Well, I will either sleep with one of them, especially the small one that does backflips or I will turn into a crazy old lady who gushes over them and makes a complete fool of herself. Either way it is bad for you.

There is a pause. Then...

Steve: And you think they would sleep with you because....

Me: I'm a tasty treat of course!

Tasty I tell you!

* Did I tell you that Steve called me K? I didn't? He does! x

If he could name all the animals

2011-10-28T18:16:00.000+01:00

Steve came in today with one question:

"Why is a fly called a fly? I mean, other things fly don't they? Birds and stuff?"

While I pondered this philosophical quandary he continued:

"And for that matter why isn't there a Walk? Or a Swim? Or a Jump? Or a Drowned?"

At this point, feeling an epic rant coming on, I interjected,

"What would be a Drowned baby?"

Quick of a flash he responded,

"Something at the bottom of the sea of course! And there should be a Still! For like crustaceans that don't move and stuff! That is how all the animals should be named! I mean...."

Suddenly Rihanna came on the tv. Steve stops, he pauses, he stares, then,

"A little shouty Ri-Ri. Wow, I would make an excellent X Factor judge."

Puppy!

2011-10-24T20:56:00.000+01:00

Bonjour, happy Monday evening! Today I have a post that I have been planning for a while. You see, the first week of September we got a call from Steve's Dad John saying that they had a little puppy, and there was a picture:

And his name was Monty.

Now Monty is possibly the cutest thing in the world and a few days later we got to meet him.

Sorry for the video overload but come on.... puppy! Also sorry for the hideousness that is my voice. Yuck.

Then we went away and came back and saw him again.

He had gotten a tad bigger, incidently on the same day my hair decided to do this bizarre big woohoo thing.

He is still cute though.

So.... healthy eating

2011-10-17T22:36:00.000+01:00

that sucks.

It was around two minutes ago, approximately 32million hours after a delicious but minute dinner of stir fry, that Steve angrily decided to blame the television.

Steve: Why? Why are you showing me food adverts now? Is M&S open right now? No! No it is not! So what you have effectively done Comedy Central/M&S is get me all riled up over a cake that I can't have because YOU have decided to show an advert WHEN THE SHOP ISN'T OPEN! Well thank you very much.

And then he continued...

2011-10-14T09:13:00.001+01:00

Yep, 20 minutes later he started again...

Steve: She came back a week later to ask what I liked about the chocolate!

Me: So really, very unlikely that she poisoned you with arsenic....

Steve: It probably was you know, like, a little bit, like a de-stimulant or something. Is that a word?

Me: ......

Steve: I mean, I can't even remember the name of the chocolate. That is probably why, because it was poisoned!

Me: OK....

Steve: Now I think about it, I get the hiccups a lot and I am very hairy!

Me: So...?

Steve: Michael isn't hairy at all! In fact, he is now bald! And I am unusually hairy!

Ten minutes pass.

Steve: It was the chocolate!

He could have been a genius...

2011-10-13T22:13:00.000+01:00

Steve had a flash back to his childhood tonight.

Steve: Liv, Liv! I just remembered something! Once, when I was little, some woman knocked on the front door and asked if I wanted to try some new chocolate bar and I asked my parents and they said yes!

Me: So....?

Steve: It could have been laced with arsenic!

Me: It obviously wasn't and, even if it was, then your parents would be with you and they would have seen the lady.

Steve: It probably had some secret poison. It is probably why I failed my GCSEs!!!!

Me: Right...

Steve: Michael across the street wasn't allowed it and he passed all of his. All As. Make of that what you will. I'm just saying.

My friend

2011-10-13T21:02:00.000+01:00

This is Kaz.

Picture courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

She is lovely. She works in publishing. She likes fashion. She loves ladybirds. She is creative. She is pretty. She is one of my best friends.

She is obviously the more sophisticated of the pair of us. Photo courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

On Sunday she ran a half marathon in a fabulous time of two hours and seven minutes. That's great right?

WRONG!

It's insanely phenomenal.

Why? Because 19 months, three weeks and one day before that, she did this with us and broke her back. After a long stretch in hospital and having rods put into and then taken out of her back, she can now, not only walk and not only run, but run crazily well!

The rods and screws that were in her actual back. I know.

I am so, so , so proud of her. She has raised over £1000 for Spinal Research and, of course, the Fire Survivors were there to cheer her on every step of the way.

The four of us fantastic girls. Photo courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

Beautiful October

2011-10-13T20:10:00.000+01:00

So this has been my busiest month ever. Like ever.

October is always my favourite month, I love everything about it. There is something about the weather and the air that makes is just perfect. I get the tingles and, when I get the tingles, it must be special.

This month has been an adjustment. As I mentioned before, the Steve has started a degree course that is taking up two nights a week and I have started a sign language course (that rocks by the way, just wait for a super geeky post of that in the next few weeks) that is taking up another so that leaves us with a lot less time together than we are used to.

We are getting there but, remember Livy-the-Smut? Well she is returning, simply because of the lack of time to do a thing!

It is a bit of a struggle right now but it is, and will be, totally worth it. However... add in a hen do, a half marathon (not me but the amazing Kaz - again, more on that in the coming weeks), a house warming and a wedding and that makes for a busy Livy month.

But right now, it is Hull Fair time which means new gloves, churros, brandy snap and cinder toffee!

The bumpers. Me heart. And I took this picture on my actual phone!

Bam!

2011-10-06T20:57:00.000+01:00

So I dropped a weight on my head.

Yep, you read that right.

As you know, I am a big fan of Ms Jillian Michaels, specifically her 30 Day Shread DVD. Me likey. It is what made me drop a dress size post fire and pre wedding. It is awesome.

So, last night, I got home and started the DVD, all was well until we came to the military presses. Now these are evil, you want to cry throughout them.

They look like this:

Except you balance on one leg when you do them for 'core strength'.

So I was unhappily doing the move when I somehow lost my balance and fell to the floor, dropping my weight on the way which then clunked on my head.

Now, my weights are filled with water so it made a delightful sloshing noise as it hit me, I momentarily worried it was my brain.

My new phone

2011-09-29T11:46:00.000+01:00

Yep, Pinkie, who survived a 40 foot jump out of a window during this and many other adventures, is officially no more. She started turning off whenever it pleased her and then decided to make no sound meaning that all conversations I had over the phone were very one sided.

So enter the sexy new phone, the very lovely Samsung Galaxy S2. And she is sexy and sleek. And has a nice camera and a keypad that I can almost work.

So, in celebration, here is a picture of me taken on the camera, I am doing my very best 4 year old child smile.

For some reason it is sideways. I don't know why.

For my Steve

2011-09-28T13:44:00.000+01:00

I'll apologise now.

This is a gushy lovey post.

I know, sick in the mouth time.

It is for Steve.

Steve is brilliant; he is intelligent and funny and handsome and kind. And he has embarked on something new. Last night he started a Foundation Degree in Business and Management on a part time basis and I cannot even explain to you how proud I am of him.

As I am sure you know, education is hard. It is time consuming and makes your brain ache. Taking on a two year degree programme in your spare time when working a 45 hour week = extremely hard.

It is not something I am sure I could do. It requires discipline, committment and enthusiasm. And, while I know that this means a few changes in our home life (namely the absence of both Tuesday and Thursday nights), I know that Steve is a bit of a hero for doing it.

It occured to me that, while Steve must be a pretty familiar character to you if you read this blog, there is a lot you don't know about him, including how we met, so I decided that I would treat you to our own little biog that was included on the back of our wedding order of the day:

Livy and Steve met at primary school.

He was in Year 3 and she was in Year 1.
Livy remembers him. Steve doesn't remember her.

One summer they met again, at a pub Livy worked at.
That night, England had just been knocked out of Euro 2004 so Steve was very drunk.
He doesn't remember this either.

They got along ok.
They flirted.
They texted.
They didn't go out.

One Christmas Livy came back from university and met Steve at the pub.
They shared a drink.
While at that pub Livy said she wanted to be more than friends.

Steve attempted to play it cool and nearly blew it.

That was six years, nine weeks and five days ago........

See? Schmaltz central. You can't say I didn't warn you!

Always a writer

2011-09-20T20:06:00.000+01:00

I used to keep diaries. Every day from 1st January 1995, when I was 10, I wrote and wrote and wrote, pages and pages of thoughts and feelings and hopes and fears. A proper diary keeper.

Recently, when feeling a bit lost in myself, I decided to reread some of these diaries, starting with 1995 onwards. I suppose it was a sort of experiment, to see if I could revisit the old me and somehow make sense of the me now a bit.

I have just finished them.

My god... I was such a self indulgent, self centred little thing. Specifically the diaries between the ages of 14 and 19. Everything was a drama, everything a crisis.

Me, on the right, with my lovely friend Ash, aged 17. Don't ask about the hair or the costumes...

A boy not calling after two hours of meeting him?

DRAMA

My mum being cross at me because I didn't empty the bin?

DRAMA

My teacher yelling at me because they expected me to actually do homework?

MEGA DRAMA

It is all very stressful!

And, it has brought back a lot of memories, and given me a more realistic view of the events that really happened; the feelings I had at the time and the account of it in my diary seem to be very different things.

I was thinking that, perhaps, the reread would give me some inspiration for a new letter to my 17 year old self.

But alas no, I will stick with the original, although I may add a 'GET THE HELL OVER YOURSELF' on the end!

Be still my teeth

2011-09-14T09:49:00.001+01:00

Last week I visited the dentist. I dislike going there intensely, not because I have ever really needed anything doing (barring the obligatory removal of a few teeth that everyone seems to have at the age of 11) but because I am convinced they are going to say, 'Livy all your teeth are going to feel out NOW'.

Anyway, my dentist is now on maternity leave so they gave me to another one, lets call him Mr Fitty Fit. He was luvverly.....

Unfortunately, I was unprepared for his loveliness and became slightly flustered,

Mr Fitty Fit: So, Livy, do you want to sit in my chair?

Me: Of course Mr Fitty Fit, if you want me to sit in your chair.

Mr Fitty Fit: (looking confused) Well... yes. I do. Now, open your mouth.

Me: (thinking that I really don't want Fit Dentist to see inside my mouth, I mean, ewwww) My mouth? Right. (opens mouth a teeny way) see? All fine!

After a while Mr Fitty Fit managed to prise my mouth open and check my teeth, me fluttering my eyelashes the whole time. He then told me (in his sexy Danish accent) that my teeth were EXCELLENT! And then he said six words that broke my heart a little bit...

'See you next time Mrs Parham'.

Damn it Steve!

A bit fractured and a new start

2011-09-13T09:41:00.000+01:00

Recently I have been feeling a bit insecure and inadequate. Like I am not quite good enough or smart enough and that everybody else seems to be achieving so much more.

It is silly; when someone I know tells me some news, professional, personal, anything really, I am always so so proud of them, there is nothing negative in my feelings towards them, but, on occasion, their brilliance evokes some negative feelings towards myself.

That I am not keeping up, that I am not even comparable.

Why do I beat myself up? I don't know. I always have. It is stupid. I have achieved things - I have a degree, I have an amazing family and friends, I have a wonderful husband. But, despite these amazing things - things that lots of people would love to have and indeed search and fight for - I still feel that, in myself, I am not good enough.

Even right now, I am wondering whether I should even post this. Isn't it a tad self-indulgent? What will you think of me? Will you think that I am just a bit of a dick? That I have no idea about real problems? That scares me a bit. Isn't that idiotic?

So, this time, rather than waiting for the problem to fade away for a bit as I usually do, I am tackling it. Or I am trying to.

I have decided to enrol on a British Sign Language Level 1 course.

I had my first class last night and I can not tell you how nervous I was; would I be rubbish? Would everyone laugh at me? Would I be able to do it in anyway?

But I did. And I chatted with the other people there and I came out able to finger spell, ask for someones name and where they live (also, slightly bizarrely, the word biscuit - beware deaf people of Hull, I can find out where you live and then ask for your biscuits!).

Granted there were some dicey moments; for one thing I was so anxious before hand, I nipped home and made a bacon sandwich (I hadn't eaten any lunch due to nerves) and therefore reeked of cooking bacon. No-one wants to be known as Smelly-Bacon-Fat-Girl.

Me the last time I was in education... I promise the hat will not come back this time.

The important thing is that it is making me feel better about myself and, while I have had people say 'Why would you do that course? What's the point?' (so supportive!), I am choosing to not listen. I can do this and will.

Why helloooo there!

2011-09-06T11:33:00.000+01:00

I'm back! The holiday was fabaroonie - thanks for asking!

It was all UK based (as we did NY and Vegas in March and are hoping for a skiing holiday come February) and it was wonderful. We hit Bristol (not literally you understand) and had a lovely meal at Piccolinos, went to the zoo (FYI, meerkats=cute, lorikeets=super fun and prairie dogs=not actual dogs) and bought fabulous new shoes.

Then we went to my other home, South Wales, tis where my Mama is from and where we still have a lovely home so it was awesome. I, involuntarily, Welshed up my accent which is one of my favourite things and headed to Rest Bay to body board every day - yep, me. And I rocked it. I can't describe how much I love South Wales - it is all so lovely and gorgeous and I love showing it all to Steve.

The fabulous Rest Bay

We then headed to my other nearly home of Manchester where we ate gorgeous food at Zinc, drank at the Oyster bar and then drank some more at Obsidian*, place of my infamous hen do cocktail making class and Steve even had a cocktail - the wonderful :

ABSINTHE WITHOUT LEAVE - We take five different rums, including Appleton VX, Sailor Jerry, Goslings and Wray & Nephew Overproof. Shake with pineapple, orange, lemon and passion fruit and strain into an absinthe rinsed cocktail shaker. Sounds crazy, it probably is! We have a house limit of two per person, nobody goes AWOL on our watch!

Just an amazing time - was a total shock heading back to work and routine. So that is why I am buying a Euromillions ticket for tonight, £110million should just about cover it I think.

Planning for my next post to be written on a yacht.... x

Day One of the holiday

2011-08-28T13:16:00.000+01:00

Train fare to Bristol - £36
Super cute mini case - £41
Smoothie at the station - £3.85

Watching an 80 year old woman check out your husband's bum when he bends to pick his case up - priceless.

Packing

2011-08-27T16:28:00.000+01:00

Today I am mainly packing while looking forward to steak for tea and the new Doctor Who - I know, I know, so rock and roll. I am packing for our UK holiday next week. Tomorrow we are Bristol bound, Monday we hit my Mama's home town in South Wales (love love love!) and then Saturday we are headed to Manchester.

So, like I say, packing is the order of the day.

The clothes were remarkabley easy, foldy foldy and in the case, the shoes likewise (but without the foldy part obviously) but then I hit a wall.

Where is my wash bag?

I have no idea.

I know where it was - it was under the dining table (an excellent place to keep it I believe) but then I tidied up. And now it is nowhere. I have searched - it is not in the bathroom, it is not in the bedroom, it is not in the spare room/room of crap.

The quest continues.

On the plus Steve has just pulled out a Queen of Clubs playing card from his clean pyjama bottoms pocket. Apparently they are the same jammies he took to his brother's stag do....

Wanted: One Husband

2011-08-24T21:53:00.000+01:00

I haven't spoken to my husband properly in 11 days.

You see I am no longer the favourite thing in his life. On Sunday 14th August, he found and promptly fell in love with another.

His ipad 2.

Steve with the Homewrecker

Since then it is all he does, all he lives, eats and sleeps. He took it into the kitchen the other night to read an online recipe from, he takes it to bed to get live sports results, he hugs it protectively, much like I'd imagine a protective new mother to do with her new offspring.

It would be quite touching apart from the fact that our communication is getting to email level. Today, on arriving home from work, he was ecstatic to demonstrate the new wireless keyboard (why, why? I mean, I thought the whole point of the ipad was that it was small and compact and did not need a keyboard?), said demonstration involved me holding the ipad ('Careful Liv! It's not a toy!') while he sat at the other side of the room typing away a message to me that appeared on the screen in front of me - fab, a new way of talking to me!

So Steve, as you are reading this on your shiney new ipad 2 (nope, I am not calling it by name....), a message:

My love, I'm going to bed, if you get your act together quickly then you might even be in for some.

Got your attention?

I dreamed a dream....

2011-08-24T10:47:00.000+01:00

Last night I dreamt. I dreamt and dreamt.

I dreamt about buying deodorant. Yep. That is it.

My entire seven hours of sleep were taken up with the panic of buying the right deodorant in Boots. They didn't have my favourite one (does anyone else have a favourite deodorant? Just me?), but they did have a fancy new one but I wasn't brave enough to try it.

So I went to Superdrug in the dream and they didn't have it either but they did have one I used to love four years ago but got discontinued.

In the end I found a teeny chemist where, hooray!, they did have my deodorant but it was £6.49 (£6.49!!!!!). By this point I was so stressed with my deodorant shopping in the dream that I tearfully bought said bank breaking deodorant and went about my business, telling everyone that I had spent nearly £7 on a deodorant!

What does it say about my life when my dreams consist of finding cheap cosmetics?

I was very brave today

2011-08-15T21:21:00.000+01:00

Remember this?

Yep. She's back.

I am going to hold my hands up right now and tell you all something - I am a hoarder.

Actually I am beyond a hoarder as I seem to give actual human traits to my possessions. Which is why I feel unable to throw anything out - they will be sad that I no longer want them.

Now, right now, I know you will be thinking two things:

1) She is a bit coo-coo-cachu (you would be right)

and

2) Oh, she means with things like soft toys and little freebie figure things - things that are meant to evoke human emotions.

No I don't. I mean things like books, clothes, old mobile phones, empty moisturiser bottles....

I know, there is something very wrong with me.

Crazy Livy on her hen do last year

I mean, last week a note came through our door from our apartment block's management team, they have noticed that the storeroom is becoming full of bikes and they are now implementing a register system. You need to register your bike by the end of August; any unregistered bikes after this will be taken to the tip.

I immediately thought that I must register my old bike that is happily chained up in there, I mean, it would be just hideous if it got taken away. I will point out now that I have owned this bike since I was 14. And last rode it four years ago. And its gears don't work. And one of the tyres is consistently flat.

They would be doing me a favour to take it away for free.

And yet, the thought of that - my poor little purple bike being pulled from its little storeroom spot and chucked in a dump, all the time it wondering where I was and why I hadn't saved it - makes me want to cry. (See, KERAZY LIVY).

But today, when I got home, I tackled our bedroom. And I got rid of lots. Lots and lots. It was a bloodfest; out went niknaks, old magazines, cute but broken jewellery and even... wait for it....

SHOES.

Including my sparkley, glittery converse with holes in. And my rainbow kitten heels. And my ten year old black mary janes that pinch so much that I have only worn them once.

A very big Livy step. x

See, I've always been crazy

ps still not sure on the bike though

pps having written those shoes down... I have the biggest urge to go and retrieve them from the outside bin...

Because I can't hold it in any longer

2011-08-08T23:40:00.000+01:00

Before I start, I want to say that usually illustrate a piece like this with photos. But I'm not going to. This doesn't need or warrent the pictures.

The riots that we are seeing at the moment are truly awful. They are scary and disgusting and something that makes me ashamed of the people that I call fellow citizens of this country I call home.

There is a lot wrong.

The riots are a lot wrong.

I think we all agree on that.

What we don't agree on, and what has become a lot more apparent to me in the last 24 hours, is that the methods that people think should be employed to solve this issue aren't the same.

All evening I have been bombarded by twitter posts and online newspaper commenters and facebook statuses, detailing how stupid our government is, how stupid our police are, how stupid our armed forces are.

Now, as a pretty opinionated liberal, I will never be the first to stand up and defend a conservative Prime Minister or government. I know there is a whole lot wrong with our system, with our parliament and with their actions.

But when I see, what I generally deem intelligent acquaintances, post messages such as:

"Cameron is flying home. What a noble gesture. Dick."

and

"Why aren't the police doing anything? Tear gas the lot of them"

I want to say one thing:

What do you want them to do?

Honestly, how would you solve this?

I don't like Cameron, he wears too many blue ties, but what can he do? What do you expect him to do? Will he stop it all by himself? By him cancelling (his earned) holiday, all it has done is show all of these rioters that their actions are getting results, they are making the news and influencing people, very powerful people, to change their plans. Very basically, giving them what they want.

The whole thing is so sad, so stupid and so confused. You are dealing with children, sometimes out of control, always confused, always lost. They are cowardly little kids, making gun shapes with their hands while hiding behind their scarves.

And 'nuking them all' or 'shooting the cunts' or whatever else you want to say, is not going to do anything. All it will do is insight hate and anger and more badness.

Yes, it needs stopping, and no, I don't know how. But screaming for them to be 'dealt with' won't help. Supporting our police and government, at least for now, is where I would start.

I have no idea whether I am right or wrong or completely misguided and idiotic on this. Please weigh in either way. x

Some news

2011-08-08T15:10:00.000+01:00

Yep ladies and gentlemen.... it is that sort of time.... announcement time! And I have big, big news.

Ready.....

Deep breath.....

And.......

I am divorcing Steve.

Shocking right? I mean, all was perfect, all was rosy, I envisaged a long and happy future together, full of laughter, country cottages and pink cheeked, cherubic babies. But no. All is lost.

Because of what he did.

You won't believe this, I know you won't.

I mean, Steve seems so amazing in this blog right? So perfect and funny and kind. He would never hurt me at all or disappoint me at all would he? He would never break my heart.

But he did.

And I can hardly even type for the pain but... last night, when taking through the used bowls from our delicious creamy bacon pasta tea, I discovered something so awful, so heartbreaking that I can still hardly believe it.

The pan, from which the scrummy pasta concoction had been served, was in the sink, with a little soapy water in it to soak and in that water were BITS OF BACON!

Yes, my husband, when serving tea, had left the yummiest bits of bacon in the pan and then tarnished them with washing up liquid and lukewarm water making them inedible.

BACON BITS!

So, I really don't have a choice do I? I mean, what if he did the same with the cookie dough bits of the Ben and Jerry's? Or the fatty bit of the steak? Or the cheesey bit of the pizza?

Still, 23 weeks and 2 days is a fair run...

Body breakage

2011-08-05T15:53:00.000+01:00

I am not looking good.

For the last five or so days my body has decided to break a little bit.

It started last Saturday when I somehow managed to scratch my chest, right in the middle, about an inch above my boobs*, no biggie, it will go soon enough, I thought. It has not. It is now just a five pence piece sized mark on my chest. And there are only so many high necked tops a girl can wear in August.

Fast forward to Tuesday when, as I tidied my desk and unpacked boxes after an office move, I lifted the lid of the recycling bin and let it go, expecting it to stay up as I dropped my papers in it. It did not. No, it came down, catching my, rather large it seems, nose on the way. So I have an angry graze right across the top of my nose.

On Wednesday evening I started feeling a bit tired and run down and woke up on Thursday with.... a cold! In August. Today it is pretty full on and all my sneezing and blowing has produced redness around my already grazed nose.

And I have a mouth ulcer.

Suffice to say I am feeling really rather fed up and yucky and debating how hot I am going to look for Steve's and my special, expensive dinner tomorrow night at a very posh restaurant.

I'm on my fourth innocent smoothie now.....

*ok, it may have been some sort of spot or blemish that got scratched....

I miss

2011-07-25T13:46:00.000+01:00

being a bride.

courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

I do.

I mean, being a wife is awesome and all (and my pie making skills have vastly improved - I felt I needed to develop at least one wifely duty thing and it was pie making or ironing... no contest really is there?) but there is something so massively special about being a bride.

courtesy of lovely friends

courtesy of Slice of Pie Designs

Something exciting and brilliant and sparkley and youthful and amazing. I loved the dress, the veil (my god... I love that veil), the swooshing (of the dress naturally) and the glowing.

The dress, oh the dress

It would probably be wrong to get divorced and then do it all again wouldn't it?

Oh, sod it, and a drunken dancing one....

I kept the curtains firmly closed

2011-07-22T09:48:00.000+01:00

As previously documented our flat overlooks a river, the river is a city river on the edge of town and thus, on occasion, attracts some super fun individuals.

There was the guy that went swimming for an hour, being chased around the murky water by two firemen in diving gear; the couple that have the same argument every Thursday night at 1am on the way home from the pub - it gets to the point where you want to shout out the window, 'No, he did say that last week. But you are right, it was just as unreasonable then'.

But this one was the best. On Sunday morning, around 6am, I was peacefully slumbering when suddenly there was a shout from outside:

Man 1: Don't worry mate, honestly, it'll be fine.

Man 2: I'm not sure. Something could go wrong.

Man 1: It won't. Honestly, just stay calm and focus. Just think, in four hours, we'll be on the ferry and gone.

Man 2: Right... ok.

Man 1: Oh, and remember, your name is Sharon!

And that is why I am considering moving.

An emotive subject

2011-07-20T21:25:00.000+01:00

We were watching TV. I was doodling about on the internet. Suddenly I thought:

Me: Aren't genes weird?

Steve: (suddenly animated) Yes! I mean in the old days it was simple, you had straight leg and boot. Nowadays there are whole shops dedicated to jeans. All of them with no boot cut jeans! Where are they all? I liked the boot cut! They look good with both trainers and going out shoes! And don't get me started on skinny jeans! They look ridiculous on boys. I just don't get it. I mean, it is weird isn't it?

Me:...... ummmm I was taking about genes. Like who you look like. DNA.

Steve: Right.... yes. Weird.

So....

2011-07-18T13:44:00.000+01:00

This is my lunch today.

It is red pepper pesto cottage and salad.

Looks a bit like dog sick doesn't it?

Part of your world

2011-07-15T13:49:00.000+01:00

This is my mermaid bag.

Isn't she beautiful? I got her a million years ago and only bring her out occasionally as she is a bit of a sequin malter. Tis v sad.

I wore her to a BBQ last Saturday and out for lunch with my family on Sunday. Everyone loved her. Why wouldn't they? She is marvy.

Anyway, last night, being good little bunnies we are, Steve went for a run.

When he returned he held out his hand, in it were lots and lots of green sequins and glitter pieces. It seems that, over four days later, he found a little sequined path through town, all the way from the train station to our flat. With several clusters of them outside various bars.

It is like the gingerbread crumbs story for the Sex and the City generation.

ps Happy Birthday Lola! I am very jealous of the evening zoo trip! x

What's my M&Sing name?!

2011-07-14T15:00:00.000+01:00

So a curious thing has happened to my ipod, my dear little pink ipod with the sparkly England flag on the back.

It still plays fine (especially with Steve’s shiney new headphones that he doesn’t realise I’ve stolen) but it seems to have developed a mind of its own.

For example, right now, it thinks it is 2.38am.

Mine is just like this, but more glittery, more bashed up and with better music

It has also taken to playing songs in whatever order it pleases. So, if I have it on shuffle, it will always now play the first two songs of every album. Then the third and fourth. Why? I don’t know. It used to just play songs as it should on shuffle; just nice and randomly.

It has also decided to swap all the album covers so they no longer match the song or artist. Super funsies right?

And yesterday, to top it all off, it increased the volume by itself and then froze while still managing to play the song so I couldn’t turn it down or off.

Not awful generally I suppose but I am sure that the other patrons of M&S weren’t that happy to see me wandering through to store, in smart office dress, headphones in with Ja Rule and JLo’s ‘I’m Real’ blaring out.
And it was the rude version.

The road less travelled

2011-07-09T10:24:00.001+01:00

I like travelling, always have. I love the packing, I love the anticipation, I love the journey to the car/station/airport and I love the waiting around for the traffic/plane/train. I love it all.

However, there is one thing I don't love, the other travellers.

Now sometimes, they cause no problem, they sit, quietly minding their own business, you see, I am not a chatty traveller. Crazy I know, I seem so chatty in real life and here. But part of me recognises that, as I take my seat, the person next to me is hoping I don't start any conversation. I know this, because that's typically what I think when I'm already seated and I see them coming down the aisle towards me.

"Oh, great," I'll think. "Here comes Chatty Chatterton. Don't sit next to me!"

At least, I hope they don't want to talk, because that avails me from feeling guilty about turning on my ipod and leafing through my magazine.

You see, socially, I'm LAZY.

I have enough friends, I think. What I need in my life is someone who fits in their seat and lets me comfortably scooch past them each time I have to pee or get something from the buffet car (generally wine or a bacon butty).

Of course, this rarely happens. Generally I have a talker, someone so desperate to share their facinating stories that I have to listen to them all the way from Wales to Bournemouth.

My Nana lives in South Wales. I live in the North East of England. On ocassion I need to travel between the two. On a train it takes a little over six hours, six long hours. Two hours to Manchester and then four to my destination... four hours on one train.

On one of these journeys I comfortablised (is that a word?) in my seat and took up my usual defense mechanism - pretending to cough manically to put off potential seat sharers.

And then I saw her. She caught my eye from half way down the aisle and indicated through a variety of hand gestures that if there was a seat next to me she would take it. I was panicked. I mean, it was too late to move and there were no more potential seat takers!

Suddenly she was there, squished in next to me on the double seat. Before we had even left Manchester I knew the following things about her:

1. Her cats' names (Emerson, Finkle, Grayson - he's bad - and Fisher)

2. Some problems she has with her sister (shallow and domineering) (married a Greek)
3. Concerns she has with her next door neighbour's frequency of shed use
4. How once she ate a fabulous restaurant in Edinburgh. I should go.
5. The real reason Viagra was invented (Don't ask)

After a while I decided that my neck hurt from craning to look at her as she talked, and also my head hurt from listening to her and her special stories. I kept telling myself to be compassionate and loving, but I felt like it was compassionate to have listened as long as I had, and plus I was loving my book and was keen to get back to it. So little by little I weaned myself away from her conversation. Eventually I was looking straight at the open page and just muttering "Really?" or "Wow. That's crazy!" every so often. Eventually she took the hint and left me alone. And then I felt super bad. Really super bad. So I tried to start her talking again. But she was done with me. She had nothing left to say. And that made it even worse, because now I was essentially begging for something I didn't want in the first place, and she was holding out. So I gave up and decided to snooze against the window.
After a while I started to stir and awoke to find she was telling me another story. From what I recall it was about a priest who took all of his clothes off and put on a wolf mask to wind up some Baptists. She claimed that it was a true story.

A week later, on the journey home, I firmly shoved my earphones and stared intently at my book at every station. And no-one sat next to me. They all knew; I was a woman who would not talk.

Either that or a serial killer.

The last taboo

2011-07-08T16:37:00.000+01:00

I have been thinking recently about relationships and, in turn, marriage.

Baby Livy and Steve, August 2005

Since February I have been asked, what seems like a million times, 'How is married life treating you?' and I always reply how fabulous it is and how wonderful etc... until last week I stopped and replied with the truth:

"It is awesome but remarkably similar to before"

Now let me be clear here, that is not to say that I don't love being married, I do. I am constantly smiling when I think that Steve and I have made wonderful vows to each other, that we have stood in front of family and friends and declared our love for one another, promising to be true and support our partner through everything life throws at us.

But I already knew that I would do that for Steve and that Steve would do that for me. I knew that long before we got hitched, before we got engaged, even before we moved in. But, when you both work full time and have busy social lives and commitments outside work and the home, sometimes that love and specialness can fall by the wayside and you get into the routine, the rut, the up-at-seven-work-out-shower-go-to-work-come-home-from-work-tidy-up-do-some-more-work-that-some-how-you-didn't-get-finished-at-the-office-make-tea-bitch-about-work-sit-because-you-are-so-tired-you-can't-quite-do-anything-else-bicker-a-bit-over-who-was-meant-to-buy-a-card-for-that-birthday-party-you-are-going-to-on-Saturday-and-finally-go-to-bed.

Exhausted just reading it? I know.

There is the perception that as soon as you are married you are blissfully happy and all those premarriage arguments (who last put the bins out? etc.... you know, the niggles that aren't serious or any actual indication of your relationship) disappear.

Teenage Livy and Steve, June 2008

I am going to be brave now.

They don't.

Don't get me wrong, I love Steve and being with him makes me beyond happy but, by god, he infuriates me on occasion! And that doesn't change following a lovely ceremony and some white iced cake. And that is good, I mean, after all, marriage or even just being together for a long time doesn't change who you are. It doesn't magic away your faults or annoying habits. I will always be cross that Steve is incapable of hanging washing up correctly and Steve will always hate that I... well he won't because all my habits are perfect and wonderful. He's a lucky guy like that.

I just think that, at the moment, with all the pressures of life, the no money due to a recession, the near constant threat of redundancy, it is understandable that sometimes the shine can be taken off a relationship. It is easy to snap, easy to look at other people and their 'perfect relationships' and feel jealous and lost without really seeing what you have.

So I am saying that, this weekend, just as you are about to yell at your partner because they brought home a jar of ground pepper rather than a single red pepper (true story), just stop and remember that sometimes relationships need a little bit of effort but, if it is right, then the juice will definitely be worth the squeeze.

Grown up Livy and Steve, February 2011

It is with this in mind that I am announcing that, when Steve gets in from work tonight at 8.30pm, I will be meeting him at the door with a beer, steak burgers and a smile. And possibly some chocolate buttons.

Goldie goldie goldie, bronzie bronzie bronzie

2011-07-01T10:06:00.001+01:00

I got a fake tan. It is lush. I am all bronzed and goddessy (except, of course, the fact that I am not six foot, lithe and amazonian).

I do not get a lot of spray tans but was feeling short, fat, dumpy and pale so it seemed a good option, I have, however, had enough to know how the system works; you go in, the nice tan lady leaves, you strip off, put on the little black paper knickers, pop some moisturiser on your elbows, ankles and knees and then the lady comes back in and sprays you silly.

Except this time she did not give me any little black paper knickers and I forgot to ask. So I stripped off and suddenly found myself standing there, naked, unsure of what to do; should I put my own knickers back on (which would have been problematical as I hadn't come in any for the purpose of not smudging the tan when it was done), should I search for the black paper pants in the many beauty boxes in the room, should I just stand there, starkers, in the booth waiting?

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and I had no choice but to stand there in the altogether. I adopted a sort of casual 'yeah-I'm-nudey' pose for good measure.

Now, I am not a prude, I have no issue being in various stages of undress in front of beauty professionals, I mean they see it every day, but this was the first time I had every been fully nude and, lets just say that it was a bit disconcerting to stand there having a total all over spray tan.

Still my tuppence is lovely and brown now. Which serves no purpose but is nice.

ps it is my Steve's birthday today and he has a horrid cold and is feeling very sorry for himself. Tis awfully sad. Still he had Percy Pigs for breakfast so it isn't all bad. x

Because we are all friends here

2011-06-22T11:34:00.001+01:00

I'll admit it, I am not ashamed.

I do not pee very often.

Indeed I am quite regularly compared to a camel; I once did a 15 hour flight to Canada without out visiting the bathroom.

The upside of this includes never having to go a million times before a car journey, never having to worry if there will be a loo in the shop/restaurant/bar and saving countless tens of minutes doing actual things.

But of course, there are downsides and one struck me yesterday evening when Steve and I had popped out for tea at a local restaurant we have visited many a time:

By not going to the bathroom I don't ever know what they are like in a particular place.

Are they nice? Am I missing out on lovely smelling hand creams? Do they have the uber scary Dyson hand dryers? Do they have some sort of some kind of new super amazing toilet thing that I don't even know about due to my lack of frequenting of public restrooms?

Tis a wonder.

ps incidentally, when in the US I obviously did have to go to the loo and discovered two things:

1) Americans are very against hand dryers. Indeed Bloomingdale's have recently removed theirs following a petition.

2) The flushes there are weird. They tend to be automatic; either when you stand up or, more disturbingly, just every 60 seconds or so which can be quite shocking if you are just innocently sitting there having enjoyed an awful lot of complimentary juice at brunch.

He should. You'd love it

2011-06-21T22:19:00.000+01:00

Steve is, as always, watching and pondering the adverts. That annoying Bombardier commercial come on:

Steve: I wish I liked Bombardier. If I liked Bombardier then I would go into the pub and say, (putting on a pompous accent and specifically enunciating and emphasising his bilabials and fricatives), 'I'll have a pint of Bombardier'.

Me: If you did that then I would say, 'Fuck the fuck off'.

Steve: Fuck the fuck off? Maybe I should start my own blog to share with the world the vast depth of your incredibly educated self.

For I am a loser

2011-06-20T17:42:00.000+01:00

Today I packed up my nummy cottage cheese salad lunch (seriously, it is actually good) and headed off to work.

I worked hard like a busy little bumble all morning, my lunch, sitting in the fridge for me, happily waiting until 12pm. But then I found that I got a free lunch as part of the event I was at so decided to leave my salad until tomorrow, I mean, it will be fine in the fridge won't it?

And I know it will except I keep thinking of it there, checking its little salad watch,

"It's much later than her normal lunch time... maybe she's running late today. I'll just wait."

And then a few hours later,

"Maybe she isn't hungry today, I'm sure she'll have me for tea."

And now...

"She still hasn't eaten me! What's wrong with me?!"

Oh salad! I am so sorry but I will eat you tomorrow, I promise!

If the fate of the world depended on it....

2011-06-09T21:57:00.000+01:00

I make decisions all day long. Thinking on my feet and making instant choices is part of the PR package. I make decisions all evening; what to eat, where to go, what we are doing next week etc...

However there is one thing that I really struggle with, a decision I can never make and be satisfied with, a choice that I agonise over, stress over and just can't make without freaking out.

What colour to paint my nails.

Right now I am sitting here, base coat on both fingers and toes, with a bottle of pale silver (ideal colour but cheap brand I have never used before) and a bottle of crystal glitter (not quite ideal colour but best brand ever).

And I just don't know what to do.

x

ps tonight I had to trim the back of Steve's hair due to a clipper malfunction related emergency. This was tres nerve racking for me as I can't even blow dry hair properly. But I rocked it. Although he did stop me when I floated the idea of layers.

Two things...

2011-06-02T13:41:00.003+01:00

1) Fondue is gooooooooooooooooooooooooood. I will now be investing in a fondue set and throwing fondue parties - but without the 70's bowl for keys obviously.

2) Steve hates the Halifax adverts so much (specifically the 'Yeah, yeah, yeah' one) that he has actually closed all his accounts there and moved them to a different bank.

Welcome to the mad world of Livy and Steve - the cheesey fondue flows freely but the cheesey ads do not.

And now he won't watch another film with me...

2011-06-01T11:19:00.000+01:00

I may have been mentioned before that Steve and I have very different tastes when it comes to well, most things. Films are no exception.

He claims I am very annoying to watch a film with. Now, that is true. I tend to offer bits of random trivia about the film or actors while we watch.

Plus, if it is a film I am not that interested in but that Steve is intent on watching then I will often drift in and out, asking questions as I go as I have somehow lost what is actually happening.

OK, so this is Wishbone as Robin Hood, but I loved that show. It rocked.

This is what happened a few weeks ago when Steve wanted to watch the Russell Crowe (from here on known as Rusty) version of Robin Hood.

To start with I told him all about a cute interview I read with Rusty about how he showed his sons the film. Steve sighed a lot before purposefully pausing the film and staring at me.

Then I decided to read my book and therefore paid no attention to the film, when I looked up everything had changed and I got confused:

Me: Steve, who is Cate Blanchett in this?

Steve: (without moving his gaze from the tv) Maid Marion

Me: Really? But they just said she was fake married to Rusty! That doesn't happen until the end does it?

Steve:

Me: It definitely doesn't happen until the end usually, that is why they always do the whole 'I'll have an outlaw for an inlaw' thing.

Steve: (through gritted teeth) This is a prequel to the traditional story and therefore, as the whole thing is legend anyway, they have a slightly different take on it.

Me: Right....

Ten minutes later

Me: Is that Prince John? Is he meant to be having an affair with the woman who becomes his next wife, Isabella of Angoulême? If so then that is silly as in real life Isabella was only 12 when they married and John was 34! They would hardly be going at it like that before they even got married would they?!

Steve: (rubbing his temples) Like I said, it is a slightly different version of the legend..

Me: But that is historical fact - she was queen!

Five minutes later

Me: Steve! Who is the guy who is played by the man who was Keamy in Lost?

Steve: (breathing deeply) Little John.

Me: Is that the bear who sounds like Baloo from The Jungle Book in the other film?

Steve: (standing up defiantly) I am going to watch this in the bedroom....

Why hip hip hooray!

2011-05-31T14:09:00.000+01:00

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

2011-05-21T11:28:00.001+01:00

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

2011-05-20T15:03:00.000+01:00

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

So there.

The story

2011-05-19T15:50:00.000+01:00

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!

2011-05-16T20:09:00.000+01:00

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...

2011-05-11T22:28:00.000+01:00

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!

2011-05-11T22:27:00.000+01:00

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....

2011-05-05T11:18:00.001+01:00

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

2011-05-04T18:18:00.000+01:00

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

And cookies save the day

2011-04-22T11:29:00.001+01:00

With all the upcoming bank holidays, Steve and I were talking about what to do with them and how we wished there were more every year.

It was then that I remembered with glee that next year we did indeed get an extra one in June for the Queen's Golden Jubilee. I looked it up then and there to find out when it was.

On doing this I found a lovely list of all the notable days in the British calender; St Switherns, Emmeline Pankhurst Day etc..

Of course, in my wisdom I decided that all of these should be bank holidays as well and started listing them:

"We'd have loads, St George's Day, St David's Day, All Saints, Halloween..."

Steve interrupts,

"No, no, no, not Halloween. Halloween is a silly made up non holiday!"

"Steve", I interject, "Do you like my Jekyll and Hyde cookies? I'd have a whole extra day to make them!"

Steve considers this...

"I get 90% of them, no giving them to those small trick or treaters".

Oh to be a boy

2011-04-21T22:18:00.000+01:00

We are watching some sort of chart show while deciding on which wedding photos make the cut for the book (we can have 80, I have 142 must haves...). To keep the night entertaining, Steve and I decide to play 'Shag, marry, push off a cliff'.

We laugh for a while as some of the choices come around. Then I come up with the ultimate:

'So Steve, Jennifer Garner, Katy Perry and Nicole from the Pussycat Dolls?'

Steve pauses,

'I'd just sit and weep in the corner with no idea what to do'.

Happy Bank Holiday Weekend Number 1!

That clever Facebook

2011-04-21T09:41:00.000+01:00

While on Facebook the other day (make friends with me! I am very nice!) I noticed something curious. The ads.

When I was engaged and being a busy little bee wedding planning, all the ads were for wedding dresses, florists and accessories.

Now my status is 'married' they are all ads for divorce lawyers and marriage counsellors....

As if I wasn't stressed enough

2011-04-20T13:52:00.001+01:00

Last night I had a nightmare about being made to do country dancing. I kept telling the woman that I wasn't meant to be there and yet she ignored me and pushed me round the May Pole more.

Twas hideous.

Kiss me Kate

2011-04-19T13:51:00.000+01:00

It would be like ignoring the big pink (is it a pink one?) elephant in the room which is why I am mentioning the Royal Wedding.

Come on, we all know it is coming, we are all grateful for the extra bank holiday (except Steve who is unreasonably mad that he is working it as well as all the other bank holiday weekends) and, a lot of us are either newlyweds or getting married in the near future.

The deely boppers - oh yes

I am going to be controversial - I am looking forward to it. I have got my crown deely boppers, my veil (always looking for an excuse to wear it again) and various union jack/crown themed accessories and items. In fact, I see no reason for anyone to get all het up about it. This, as with the majority of holidays and events, registers as a-super-excuse-for-a-party-so-why-wouldn't-you-embrace-it category.

Kate's ring

My ring

In all honesty, while I am a tad jealous of Kate's beauty, figure, hair and general loveliness, the two of them are doing what a million people do every year and good for them.

If I was terribly truthful, I actually feel a bit sorry for her. I mean, lets just start with the actual wedding itself - how much say has she had in it? Any of it really. From venue to dress to colour scheme to type of service to food to guests to everything, I loved deciding on all those things and, as Steve and I are both stubborn as hell, we did things exactly the way we wanted to. Yes, we made sure that we accommodated everyone's needs but, to be honest, that wasn't a hardship because it was what we ultimately wanted; for all our loved ones to feel happy and welcome and involved.

Will and Kate's official engagement photo

So we didn't do an official engagement shoot, but here we are a few weeks after we got engaged

Kate will have had very little of that. She had a mini choice in venue - Westminster or St Paul's. No small village church for her, no special place where her parents married or her grandma is buried, worse still, no option of a civil ceremony. The guest list - she'll have been able to put her hundred or so must haves in but the truth is, she won't have met three quarters of the people going to her own wedding. The dress, probably more scope for individuality but lets remember - Royal Weddings call for covered shoulders, long skirts and modesty. The reception, there will be no speeches, no drunken uncles on the dance floor, no jumping about to Beyonce's 'Single Ladies', excitedly pointing at your shiny new wedding ring (as I did at my own wedding...).

I mean, it is unlike anything we would consider a wedding.

I was lucky, I got to pick my entire day from the outfits to the favours from the cake to who I got ready with in the morning.

Us on our wedding day which I wouldn't have changed for the world

And the pressure on her going into their marriage; stressing over whether they can have an exotic honeymoon or will that look bad in the current economic climate, full on royal duties - no job where she can retain a level of normality and sanity, the pressure to produce an heir, I mean there will be no option of surrogacy, IVF or adoption if, for whatever reason, she can't have babies.

So, when I watch the wedding with my Nana (a royalist if ever there was one), glass of champagne in one hand and deely boppers firmly on head, I will be thinking of the woman behind the veil; granted, I'm sure she knows what she is getting herself into, but she is just a person who is marrying the one she loves.

And that is always something to celebrate.

That GCSE obviously worked

2011-04-18T14:56:00.000+01:00

I got an A in my Geography GCSE and now I know that it wasn't totally useless for it turns out I totally rock at this game

Play it, you must, I command you.

Basically, you need to land your plane at the named city within five seconds. A few were fairly easy - Manchester = big tick! But it seems that even when I have no clue where somewhere is (Graz? Never heard of it, that's bad isn't it?), I can still locate it within about 30 miles.

Maybe I should become a pilot....

New York - Central Park on Sunday

2011-04-14T14:32:00.000+01:00

Sunday we woke, not too jet lagged and decided it was time to explore. It was glorious sunshine so we decided to walk up towards Central Park. Now, as many of you will know, New York roads (in the North of the city anyway, are fairly easy, simply numbered, vertically starting with First Avenue on the east of the island and ending with Twelfth (I believe), granted there is no Fourth Avenue, instead Lexington, Park an Madison but so far so good. Horizontally they are also number, with 192nd Street up in Harlem, heading down to 1st Street down in Greenwich Village (south from there it gets complex...), now, this is so bloody simple, we got cocky, I mean we can count yep? And all we need to do is go directly north from our hotel on W46th to hit the west side of the park. Unfortunately we started our journey on Times Square so instead of going straight up Seventh, we accidentally chose Broadway; the only road in Manhattan that goes diagonally....

Manhattan from Central Park

Walking up through the city and towards the park was magical, something I will never really forget; I was in New York City, with my husband, on our honeymoon, it was bright, bright sunshine and, as it was fairly early (around 9.30am) we had this lovely experience of the city starting to walk up on a lazy spring Sunday, people were walking dogs, going for runs, picking up papers.

We passed the Lincoln Centre before putting our names down for brunch at SaraBeth's, totally like in SATC - all egg white omelettes with sides of sausage and marmalade, it was gorgeous plus I had champagne - always a bonus for a Sunday morning! We walked across to the Museum of Natural History which was cool, Steve especially liked the Blue Whale and then walked back through the park, seeing the lake, sitting on rocks and just enjoying the sunshine.

That bear was BIG....

We saw Strawberry Fields where a couple were getting married - just surrounded by tourists and runners and cyclists, we stayed and watched, I cried and Steve got bored. Oh and girls, her bouquet - AMAZE! No flowers, just jewels and buttons and beads, it made me want to get married again, if only for that bouquet.

The Imagine circle where the couple got married

We headed back down 5th Avenue and saw all the big designers, popped into a book shop and bought a much needed restaurant guide (after three arguments over where the hell to go out to eat that night).

Messing about in the bookshop, turns out Steve would not like ten of me

And I can!

After chilling out at the hotel for an hour or so we headed to the hotel bar for a (very overpriced) drink - $27 (about £18) for a cocktail and a beer. Then we headed out, staying local, to the restaurant at the Muse Hotel where the food was good but the toilets were better - OMG, all unisex, seven cubicles all with a different theme, so the Envy one was all green, the Desire - all red and covered in hearts and my favourite, the Vain one, just mirrors, floor, ceiling, walls; fabulous but slightly disconcerting when you are trying to pee....*

We headed back to the hotel for another overpriced drink - hey we were on honeymoon - and then to bed.

* please note, I didn't actually need to go to the loo that much but insisted on peaking into each cubicle to see what they were like.

It was the Chanels that did it...

2011-04-13T09:08:00.001+01:00

Last night, on the oh so cheery news, a report came on about the economy and how inflation is down etc etc...

The lovely George Alagiah explained that the UK's spending dropped 2% in March whereas, interestingly, the US's was up around 1.5%.

Steve looked at me.

"You really should have called the Bank of England to explain that you were going to be out of the country and in America."

I am good at other stuff

2011-04-11T11:09:00.000+01:00

At school, like everyone I suppose, I was better at certain things than other. Languages were totally my thing, English Language = yes yes yes, even the humanities I was so so at. Maths wasn't the best (although I did fluke an A* in my GCSE, to this day I am sure they mixed my result with someones, I even asked the Head when I picked my results up, her response, 'Don't worry Livy, we've already checked', that's a confidence boost if ever there was one....).

My downfall?

Science.

All of them I was pretty bad at but specifically, Physics. I sucked. Really badly. I was the girl who tried incredibly hard for the first year, totally earnest, worked my little bum off and still pulled a 49% in the end of year exam. After that, I became the girl who didn't even try, I mean, you work hard and still fail? My 13 year old head told me that there was no point even doing that. So I forgot homework, tried to convince the teacher that he had lost it and just didn't listen.

Fast forward 14 years and here I am, with absolutely no knowledge of anything physicsy. Now, that is generally fine; I have no interest in how my microwave or hairdryer works, as long as they do!

Until Steve got totally into Brian Cox and his programme on the universe and planets and stuff (see? No idea....), now, Steve and I have been together for over six years so I generally don't feel silly with things I don't know, I know other things, important things, interesting things, but having your new husband find that you weren't aware that the Earth rotated = not the best.

So, I'm being brave, I am going to tell you all the things Physics related that I truely don't understand, Steve has tried to explain a few of them to me but is getting nowhere - can you help or should I just accept that this is not my thing and get back to my phonology/language analysis/Sex and the City book (delete depending on the day I've had....)?

I don't really understand gravity, I mean, I know I don't float, but I am not having it that I am being sucked down to earth, and I don't understand how it works in Australia, I mean, if the world is, as suggested, a great big ball, how is nobody upside down?
Speaking of gravity, if it does exist then I can't see why people make such a big thing about Newton discovering it, I mean it isn't an invention after all! It was just sitting there waiting to be discovered! All he discovered was that things fall down when they are dropped and presumabley everyone already knew that!
Also, why is space dark? It is closer to the sun than us so surely it should be lighter?
Glass - seriously, who invented glass? I mean who would look at a beach, and think 'ooh look if I get a load of that, heat it up to 10000 degrees (how?) and add some potash or whatever (making this up now) I can make a lovely fruit bowl for mother's day, as well as patch up those pesky windows but still let light in'.

And, I suppose this technically isn't Physics (or is it? I don't know) but in the olden days, how did they design and build catherdrals and things, I mean, they didn't even have pencils then.

I want to be a part of it....

2011-04-08T16:33:00.000+01:00

So, here is how it is going to work, I am going to split the moon of honey into some smaller chunks, to come out every Tuesday and Thursday, although I will admit that today is Friday... I know right? Hooray! Anyway, yep, the reason for the split posts is, well because, I realise that, fantabulous though I am, not of you will be desperate to read about our trip so this way I can hopefully punctuate it with other funsies posts.

So, here we go!

As a preface I will tell you that I have officially been to New York before. Twice in fact. The second time was when I had to change at JFK following a school skiing trip in Lake Tahoe so all I saw was the inside of the airport and all I remember is pooling my remaining quarters with a friend so we could get MacDonald's, the lady was so amused by 'the quaint English girls' that she gave us an extra cheeseburger. And the first time I was 15 months old. In fact here is a picture of Baby Livy in New York, please note the Union Jack buggy that my mother claims saved her from being stabbed in a gang war in Central Park as I was so cute and English.

You know all about our trip down to Heathrow (except I didn't tell you that I cried and snuffled half the way, I am a loser and do this every time we go abroad, who knows why... I'm sure that the three glasses of wine I had before leaving my Mum's house didn't help to be honest), so, by the time we had got through security, eaten something and debated whether I should buy £198 Marc Jacobs sunglasses in duty free (I didn't which was good as I would never have been able get my Chanellos then) it was time to board. The flight was the flight - although I did find Delta's safety video hilarious, and I also watched the latest Harry Potter and was excited to see that my sister's name appears on the credits even at 30,000 feet.

We arrived in JFK about 3pm and I got very excited getting a yellow cab from Queens to Manhattan, like stupidly and embarrassingly giggly.... twas quite bad really, plus sleep deprivation had made me quite delirious (remember that at this point, 8pm in the UK, I had not slept for around 36 hours) and I kept trying to do an Australian accent. I think there was some logic in my brain, about people not assuming we were English....

Once checked in to the lovely Paramount Hotel, we bounced about the bedroom (Steve very literally) and then headed out to explore the evening. First stop - Times Square. Now, I LOVED it. All bright lights and massive screens, Piccadilly Circus on acid. We wandered up Broadway for a bit, checking out the sites before cutting across and finding Radio City Music Hall and then the Rockefeller Centre. Armed with our New York Passes, we decided to mark our first evening in style and head up. Now, the pass wasn't cheap (around £100 each) but was worth it's weight in gold - free entry for most attractions including Top of the Rock, Empire State, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty and all museums, zoos and galleries but also, crucially, queue jumping. HOORAH!

The lobby at The Paramount

The Empire State Building from Top of the Rock

Top of the Rock was wonderful, amazing views of the Park and the Empire State Building and the perfect way to kick off the honeymoon, seeing this amazing island from the sky.

Upon descent we realised we needed to eat something, having had a few people (including some of you lovely lot) recommended The Burger Joint at Le Parker Meridien we headed there and queued it out for twenty minutes.

Yummy Burger Joint burger

Totally worth the wait, the burgers are out of this world, I even took a picture I am that sad. The place is a total beach shack - not at all like the opulent hotel lobby it sits in. The food is fast and easy, a choice of three burgers with various garnishes, chips and a few drinks but they are oh so good. Seriously, I raved about it for days (FYI, medium rare is totally the way to go with burgers). We accompanied our burgers with the rankest pitcher of lager ever - Sam Adams, apparently some sort of Boston lager, chatting incessantly about how we were loving it already, so excited to be in Manhattan, so excited to be on our honeymoon (one day in and I had already told approximately 28 people and waved my marriage certificate at two of them, much to Steve's embarrassment) and busily planning the next day - Central Park and the Natural History Museum.

Outside Radio City Music Hall

Chanello!

2011-04-01T20:05:00.000+01:00

At Top of the Rock, on the first night in NY, about two hours after landing

Hello my dears, I am back!
We landed at Heathrow about five hours ago and have just walked through our front door... oh, why don't I live in our wonderful fountain view room at the Bellagio? Why? (Yes, Mahj - the buffet was out of this world, OMG, there are no words).

Being scared by the size of the bear at the Museum of Natural History

We had the most amazing time, New York was just phenomenal, when we left I honestly didn't think it could get better, and then we hit Vegas. I just can't describe how much I loved it and am trying to persuade Steve and multiple friends to go back for Steve's 30th next July (do you want to come? I would love you to. It will be fabulous).

My super old and battered Manhatten shoes that I bought in 2003 and have waited to wear in the Big Apple ever since

With my donut in Grand Central - a big family tradition started by my Grandpa, so excited that I have now done it too!

The footlong at the Knicks game

I will do a full honeymoon post with photos next week (cleverly I came back just in time for Mother's Day so I am hitting the ground running) but for now, as I am approaching the 25 hours without sleep mark (including a frantic run through Minneapolis airport to get our connecting flight), I will just leave you with a few pictures, dotted throughout this post, and this fun American fact list:

Americans are OBSESSED with the royal wedding, every morning ABC and CNN had a half hour report on updates that had happened in the UK over night, complete with a reporter outside Buckingham Palace
They have the show 'Hole in the Wall' just like us, except it is a kid's show. And a weak one at that.
The Grand Canyon is amazing, just insanely amazing and brilliant. Just you wait to see the photos.
I love the show Man v. Food. It was my 7pm-getting-ready-to-go-out-show.
You can wear anything in Vegas. Anything. And no-one will judge.
American airport security guards do not react well to greasy hair remarks.
Cirque du Soleil is just breathtaking.
Steve will get a tad pissed off when he isn't able to buy beer at a Knicks game as he has no ID with him.
He will be even more pissed when I tease and refuse to buy him any, instead making slurpy noises as I sip my ice cold Bud.
If you eat like Americans for 12 days, you will gain five pounds. Yep, in 12 days. The detox starts on Monday!

With Lady Liberty

Outside our hotel, the Bellagio, our room is about four windows up, just on the right hand side of the centre

In the helicopter, on the way to the Grand Canyon

On our boat, through the Grand Canyon - there are no words

Oh and the Chanello? Guess who charged Chanel sunglasses to her credit card over there? I knew I should have left it at home... x

A sleepy Livy says...

2011-03-19T04:02:00.000Z

So, as you can probably tell from the hour, we are at the start of our honeymoon.

Currently I am sitting in heathrow terminal 4, waiting for check in to open. In two hours. Yes, you see in our very eager state we decided to get in our lovely executive taxi at midnight, knowing full well that the journey to heathrow can often take around five hours. Except we forgot to consider one thing... We were leaving at midnight and not at 8am on a Monday morning. Yep, our journey took us exactly three hours and 11 minutes, making us approximately two and a half hours early for check in and nearly six and a half hours early for our actual flight.

No problem, I thought as we pulled up, this is heathrow, they'll be loads to entertain us. And there would be, if anything was open. As it is, there is one cafe Nero open and that is it. And there are only so many pain au chocolat a girl can eat.

So here I sit, surrounded by fellow early birds and a slightly snoring steve who, despite his 6'4" frame, has managed to fall asleep in a single partitioned chair, his biggest worry being if they have the new body scnanners that will allow the guards to 'see his jewels'. He is also sulking with me after I said we would only know if they laughed when we went through.

Ah, marriage hasn't changed us.

So, wish us luck, I will try and up date when we are out ther but I may just be busy being too darn fabulous.

Lots of love xxxx

ps to cocktail or not cocktail on my flight, that is the question x

Help!

2011-03-11T11:04:00.000Z

So yes, in eight days we off on honeymoon, New York and Las Vegas here we come! And I have not even starting looking at what to do and where to go there! Not one bit.

Obviously there are things we want to do - Top of the Rock, Ellis Island, Empire State Building, Bellagio Fountain, Grand Canyon, Old Vegas etc... but does anyone have any tips of the complete unmissables? You know, the hidden secrets? We are treating this as a 'Once in a Lifetime' trip so I don't want to get back and then go, 'Oh, we should have done XXXXX'.

And then there is the big thing I need - restaurant and bar tips! Steve and I love eating out, really love it. We like going for drinks. But we are both very indecisive on these things, we have been known to wander round many a city, browsing menus outside eateries, unable to pick one to go to.

So this is where you step in, can anyone recommend some lovely places to eat and drink in New York (and Vegas, although I'm less worried about there)? We will hopefully be doing a mix of price ranges, from the all out one night to fun pizza bar the next. And don't forget the cocktails!

Any tips or definites would be a massive help!

Loves xxxxx

A new kind of weirdness

2011-03-08T18:51:00.000Z

Hello my lovelies,

How has your Tuesday been? Mine? Well fair to crap but I did do my first, post wedding, dreaded work out and, annoyingly, I feel so much better for it!

Yesterday, I arrived home from work to find an envelope addressed to a name that didn't register immediately. It was a Boots envelope and for a moment I became confused as to who it was meant for.

Why?

It was addressed to a Mrs O Parham.

And then I remembered - that is me!

In this lull betwixst wedding and honeymoon, I did my usual and became very proactive, focusing on one particular project: changing my name.

Now, I am not going to go into an entire debate on the pros and cons of name changing. People feel very strongly about it and I myself was told be people very dear to me that I was 'letting women down', 'allowing a man to own me' and 'showing society that I was inferior'.

You already know my views on feminism. I am a big 'whatever works for you I will support' person. But I did struggle with the name issue.

I had always said that I would always be a Kerridge. It was my name, the one my parents gave to me, the one that belonged to me and no-one else. Why should I change all of that just for a man?

And, when we became engaged I stuck to that, Steve and I spent many a conversation discussing it, the different variations, the hows, the issues surrounding our future children's names if I kept mine etc..

It was only about six months before the wedding that I decided that actually, I wanted this new name. The reasons were many, some I'm even not sure of but it felt right for me. Just for me.

Perhaps it was wanting to create this new family unit - I knew that I would want to have the same name as my lovely offspring, perhaps it was the fact that it is just a name and that deep down, I knew I wasn't losing my identity, perhaps I just became sentimental and soppy in my blissful betrothed bed.

I do know that it was made easier by the fact that Steve didn't mind either way; he made it clear that while he would be proud and happy for me to take his name, it actually didn't matter to him (he did draw the line and choosing a brand new name entirely... alas, I will never be Mrs Darling or Olivia D'Livio).

So the decision was made.

And when I saw it today on that envelope, a whole range of emotions washed over me.

Bizarreness, excitement, feeling incredibly old, happiness, confusion.

And pride. Yep, while I will most definitely be using the lovely Ms most of the time, I can clearly say, this once... very proud to be his Mrs.

OP, here we are....

2011-03-07T12:24:00.000Z

You will get a full, twice weekly wedding write up as soon as I am back from the honeymoon I promise (early April). This will be a big, in detail thing, but not focusing on suppliers and how tos, more on feelings, what worked, what was worth the worry and what wasn't.

Granted, I know you all like the purty pictures (and there will be many, as well as some very tipsy, dancing pictures) but, the things that I most appreciated when planning were all of the extras, the real advice on detail as well as the real feelings involved. Plus, I am a stickler for all the little funny, under the radar moments that happen.

However, as I am hopefully submitting the best day ever to a certain, fabulous wedding blog, you are limited to only a couple of sneak peak pictures.

Enjoy!

Courtesy of the lovely Slice of Pie

And just for the lovely Peridot, no plaits but some delicious side pleats!

Just a quick announcement...

2011-03-07T11:54:00.000Z

Effective immediately the word formally known as 'OK' will change to the more proper 'OP' to reflect the change in my initials.

Therefore sentences such as:

'I'm having a biscuit, is that OK?'
'OK, let's go to the zoo!'
and 'I love strawberry jam but raspberry is only OK'

become:

'I'm having a biscuit, is that OP?'
'OP, let's go to the zoo!'
and 'I love strawberry jam but raspberry is only OP' respectfully.

That is all.

From my husband of six days....

2011-03-04T10:18:00.000Z

On Wednesday evening, still suffering from the post wedding blues (seriously, why don't people clap and cheer when I enter the room anymore? Why don't people follow me around telling me how beautiful I am?), Steve and I took ourselves out for dinner to a new little restaurant, situated in a shopping centre (it is a lot nicer than it sounds, I promise, and no, it was not a Burger King).

We enjoyed a lovely dinner, with only a few minor gripes - mainly that I still insist on telling everyone that we just got married, what can I say? I am still basking in the glow of the congratulations I get every time I mention it!

As we were leaving, we passed the new 24 hour gym that has just opened in town. As you may remember, both Steve and I became little exercise bunnies pre wedding and are hoping to continue (but with less panic and sweating ideally).

Steve: I might join the gym I think, it's only £25 a month and better than trying to do squat thrusts in our living room.

Me: OK... I hate gyms.

Steve: Hmmmm, actually, you have to have a full year contract, not a rolling one.

Me: So?

Steve: Well, it's year. I just don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment....

Yes, this was four days after he pledged to spend his life with me....

I got me married

2011-03-01T20:11:00.000Z

Hello, the new Mrs Parham is signing in!

Today I am mostly very, very tired and a tad teary that it is all over and that I have to go to work tomorrow! Seriously, nothing can prepare you for how rubbish the come down is and how fast the day will go, all I want to do is rewind to last week and then do it all again.

Even more so, I wish that I could experience more of the day, we were so busy trying to see everyone and chat that we missed so many little details like people's reactions when I walked in the room, people crying at the readings, vows and speeches, our dearest friends doing absolutely hilarious things. It would be great if you could go back and just watch from a corner - all your loved ones having the best time!

The best thing about the whole thing was, well, firstly getting married, becoming Steve's wife was by far the best part of my day, saying those vows and meaning those words just went beyond my expectations. Secondly, having everyone there; I got so so emotional having everyone I loved in that room with us and feeling the amount of love and support they were giving us. It is tearing me up right now thinking that all those people came there just for us and that, they will never be all in the same room again - very silly I know.

We simply had the best, most wonderful day.

Pictures coming as soon as I get them and, once I have explored the best way of doing it, I will hopefully do a full account, maybe on a twice a week post - probably a little dull for you lot but a great account for me to keep!

xxxxx

Going to the chapel....

2011-02-25T08:03:00.001Z

So here we are, the day before the big day. I really can't believe it is actually here. Today is full of things to do - rehearsals, picking up cakes, picking up my dress and finally, oh so finally, sitting with my girls with a glass of champagne.

I just wanted to say a big thank you to you all for all the wedding advice you have given me, all the help and excitement. And for putting up with the numerous wedding posts!

I am signing off for a few days now as.... wait, oh yes... I AM GETTING MARRIED ON SATURDAY!

xxxxxxxxxx

ps promise to post photos and please keep fingers crossed for a rain free day! x

Touching wood

2011-02-23T09:56:00.001Z

So we're on three days to go and things are getting crazy. Like insane.

As a nice break from the insanity, last night I went home to see my family and popped up to my Nana's. Now, I love my Nana, she is brilliant, one of the smartest and sharpest people I know as well as one of my favourites. Once we got there she insisted that we had a sherry.

I hate sherry.

How a drink manages to be so sickly sweet and yet so strong tasting, anyway, I manned up and accepted my drink (Steve didn't. Because he is a wussy pants.).

I politely sipped it and only winced slightly.

After a minute or two, my Nana proposed a toast,

'To the end of Olivia Kerridge!' she announced, raising her glass.

Ummm.... lovely sentiment Nana but lets remember that I am not in fact dying. Just getting married and changing my surname....

Can I tell you something?

2011-02-21T09:58:00.000Z

It is such a very strange feeling to be getting married in less than a week. This whole process I have been counting down, saying 'In one year's time', 'in six months time', 'in three months', 'in eight weeks', 'in three weeks' that to finally actually get here is beyond... well everything.

It is beyond exciting, beyond bizarre. It really feels weird. Like this day that has been in my mind for so long, that I have planned and slaved over, that every little detail I know about, is actually going to happen. It feels so abstract, like it was something that I daydreamed about, that would never really happen.

But it is.

This Saturday, Steve and I will stand in front of everyone we love and declare we love each other totally and completely, that we will care for each other, stay with each other and support each other. We will all eat and drink and be merry, we will dance and laugh and pose for photos, we will wear lovely clothes and celebrate.

I always wondered what the few days before a wedding were like for a bride and groom, I assumed a whirlwind of appointments and packing and business. And it is. But it is also full of a feeling of anticipation, of nervousness, of tingley arms and random spates of butterflies, of frustration as I try and get everything finished, of excitement and jumping up and down joy. And a little bit of sadness.

I have loved being engaged. It has been such a special time for us, bringing us closer together, not only Steve and I but our families and friends, both to us individually and to each other. I have been so conscious that I will never have this time again; we have been surrounded by excitement, with love and just brilliance and it is ending.

So, in a pre-wedding toast, please grab that glass of wine (or juice box or cuppa...) and here is to the marriage we will have and hoping it will kick my lovely engagement's bum!

PUSH IT!

2011-02-20T15:01:00.000Z

In preparation for the wedding, both Steve and I have been trying to eat healthily and work out crazily. This officially started way back in the depths on September but really only got going the first week of January.

Now, as documented in the comments of my favourite wedding site Rock My Wedding, I am a big fan of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. It is pure evil but by god it works, a dress size down since January = happy happy Livy.

The thing is, the work out is brutal, each move is compound meaning everything aches. And aches some more.

To start with, I would battle through with Steve laughing at me but then things changed.

A spell of icy mornings meant that Steve couldn't go for his 6am run so I innocently suggested that he did the DVD, it's only 20 minutes long, and, after all, he was sure it was super easy.

Now he no longer laughs.

And listening to him doing the DVD is the funniest thing ever. He huffs and puffs and growls and occasionally you'll hear:
'Five more? Fuck off!'

'Jillian you evil sadistic bitch'

And my favourite, at one point on Level 3, Jillian tells you to remember why you wanted to do this in the first place and focus on that:

'I've changed my mind Jillian, I want to be fat, lazy and happy!'

And that is why I love him and why, in less than one week, I will be proud to be his Mrs.

Hair - not the musical

2011-02-19T09:57:00.002Z

As I am sure you can imagine, my wedding to do list is fairly long and includes such gems as 'Buy knickers', 'Find out how long aisle is' and 'Feed pianist*'. But the thing most on my mind?

My hair.

Last week I had a hair trial with my wonderful hairdresser Emma, I have been going to her for years and she knows my hair inside out. So inside out that neither of us can decide what to do with it.

Do we go for very classic with all the hair off the face and up and risk looking severe?

But obviously less pouffy - sorry, I got bored of looking for pictures...

Do we go for the more popular curly up do?

Do we go for the cool quiff/messy do?

I just don't know!!!

And then we come to my new love... plaits. Can they fit in? Help!

* That made me laugh, how dirty does that sound? x

Livy, Livy, Livy....

2011-02-18T11:17:00.002Z

It was mentioned to me by a dear friend that la blog (for she is a girl) hasn't been graced with the wedding dress story. No, not that wedding dress story.

This one:

Now you remember how I often, inexplicably make things complicated for myself? Yep? Good. Because this is one of those stories....

Once I had purchased the dress, I began the long wait for the dress to actually arrive. And then, one fateful day before Christmas, I got a call. She was here!

I therefore rang to make an appointment to try her on and therein found the problem. My dress shop, fabulous as it is (and it is), only allow try on and fitting appointments between 10am and 2pm Tuesday to Friday. And I would need four of them.

I asked if they would make an exception, I mean, I didn't have the holiday time to just waste away on two hour fittings every couple of weeks and I was pretty sure my boss would suspect 'dentist appointments' every other week but alas, they were firm with their rule.

So, thinking quickly, I explained that I was a primary school teacher (I'll point out now that I work in PR) and therefore could not just abandon my class of six year olds for a few hours each time. And bingo! I was suddenly granted 4.30pm appointments on Friday afternoons.

And that should be the end of the story. Except I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

No, I had to tell the staff about the adorable little year 1s I taught. I'll say right now that I didn't actually want to expand on the myth. I truly didn't. But when you are standing on a box in a beautiful dress and a woman holding very sharp pins asks you how work was that day, you really have no choice.

So off I went, on how I have a little girl called Emily who cries every day for one reason or another and how I have learnt that it is just an attention seeking device and have methods to deal with it, how I have a little boy called Daniel who eats crayons, how I have identical twins called Ruby and Flora who always try and trick me by switching seats and on and on....

It was all going swimmingly, I had the shop assistants enraptured by my hilarious tales and I was feeling like a wonderfully funny human being who was fabulous in every way.

And then the shop owner arrived. A lovely woman who, like the others, got absorbed in my stories. And then asked me which school I taught at.

Again, thinking on my feet, I mentioned the school my brother attends, I mean, I can name some of the teachers and vaguely know the layout...

Shop Owner: Oh my goodness my friend's boy goes there - Connor, he's seven do you know him?

Me: Ummmm.... there are a few Connors.... I haven't taught him.

Shop Owner: Shame. My little baby, Jake, we would like him to go there, what is the best way to do it?

Me: Ummmmm..... do you live in the village?

Shop Owner: No, is that important?

Me: They do go for residency first but I'd apply and get his name down. It is a very good school so there is demand but then, some of the other local schools are very good as well. Have you considered any others?

Shop Owner: No, we want him to go there, they have a great reputation and you seem like such a nice teacher. Shall I call the head and say I know you?

Me (super, super fast): No! Really, no need for that. How old is Jake?

Shop Owner: 7 months

Me: You have ages of time, if I were you, I'd wait at least a year before making that appointment.

Shop Owner: A year?

Me: Definitely. Anyway, how is the hem looking?

So now, having possibly ruined a 7 month old's chances of a good education, the dress finished and just waiting to be picked up. And I can escape from the web of lies.

Because, nope

2011-02-18T10:00:00.000Z

I have a wedding post coming up this morning, I promise but then I read this and decided it had to come first.
A long time ago I wrote a long post on rape, here, and, in typical Livy style, it was longwinded and complex. But real. And important. But I decided that, while there should be issues of importance on this blog, it was a place for fun, to relax and not be serious. However, after what I read today, I just couldn't let this go by. It is just too sad and infuriating and wrong. And by not talking about it we condone it. We all need to be talking about this, anywhere and anyway we can.

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work

1. Don’t put drugs in women’s drinks.
2. When you see a woman walking by herself, leave her alone.

3. If you pull over to help a woman whose car has broken down, remember not to assault her.

4. If you are in a lift and a woman gets in, don’t assault her. You know what? Don’t even ogle her.

5. When you encounter a woman who is asleep, the safest course of action is to not assault her.

6. Never creep into a woman’s home through an unlocked door or window, or spring out at her from between parked cars, or assault her.

7. When you lurk in bushes and doorways with criminal intentions, always wear bright clothing, wave a flashlight, or play “Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed)” by the Raveonettes on a boombox really loud, so women in the vicinity will know where to aim their flamethrowers.

8. USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM! If it is inconvenient for you to stop yourself from assaulting women, ask a trusted friend to accompany you when in public.

9. Carry a rape whistle. If you find that you are about to assault a woman, you can hand the whistle to your buddy, so s/he can blow it to call for help.

10. Give your buddy a revolver, so that when indifferent passers-by either ignore the rape whistle, or gather round to enjoy the spectacle, s/he can pistol-whip you.

Don’t forget: Honesty is the best policy. When asking a woman out on a date, don’t pretend that you are interested in her as a person; tell her straight up that you expect to be assaulting her later. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the woman may take it as a sign that you do not plan to rape her.

(Written by Jill at I Blame the Patriarchy, posted here, where I found it - originally posted here.)

OK, so there's an element of humour there, of course, and that is good. But there's also painfully true satire of the culture surrounding sexual assault.
You NEVER get to blame the victim of an assault. Not ever. You don't get to say 'that's what you get for taking your hot blonde self to the middle of a violent protest'. You don't get to say 'if you don't want to be raped, avoid walking in the woods or crossing poorly-lit car parks'. Never, never, NEVER.

That's not to say that I don't think getting drunk on your first date with a near-stranger is risky behaviour. It is. But if that near-stranger uses your drunkenness to get what is not his to take, that is rape and the fault is his and his alone. Risky behaviour does not make sexual assault ok. Lara Logan was doing her job, a dangerous job, yes but she did nothing that made the attack on her ok, because there IS nothing - NOTHING - that makes sexual violence even the littlest bit ok.

When one person uses another person's body for his (or her) own pleasure, without the other's consent or with coerced consent, violently or not, that is rape and it is depraved and disgusting and should be punished. And if we keep saying 'but she knowingly put herself in a dangerous situation!' we are missing the point. We're missing the point so much that we're running over the point with a huge truck because we can't see it.

Rape is depravity at its clearest and ugliest. Sanity and morality would never condone taking sex by force - it is their polar opposite - which means rape is the absence of sanity and morality. It CANNOT be excused. A victim who walked willingly into a crowd of angry thugs is still a victim. 'Boys will be boys' never has been and never will be a viable excuse for sexual violence.

We think we're past that, I know. But I learned recently of a rape victim in a rural area who was denied justice and her rapist sent on his way, because he was a boy with such great potential and the people around him (parents and head teacher ironically) didn't want his promising young life ruined by the sordid truth of what he'd done.

This is happening, not just in the middle of violent uprisings overseas. It's happening everywhere and every day. And every time it happens, every time sexual violence is excused or validated or rationalised, every time a rape victim is left helpless, we are all victimised. The excused rape of one woman is the rape of all women.

Until people - all people, or at least most people - will call it what it is, it won't go away.

Here endeth the lesson.

Only me

2011-02-17T16:00:00.000Z

On Sunday, my lovely sister was over and, bored at my Nana's and with a dictionary close by, we decided to play the Dictionary Game.

Now, for those of you less familiar with the Dictionary Game, it is super fun, especially when drunk. Unfortunately, on this occasion (it being 4pm on a Sunday and at my Nana's bungalow), we were not but we embraced it just the same.

Anyhow, you basically grab a dictionary, one person flicks through the pages, the other says stop when they feel like it, then that person picks the side of the page, the column and eventually what number word they want (say fourth from the top etc...). And then that word is the word that defines you.*

So my sister goes first and gets 'Superfluous', we all laugh, my Mum gets 'Commander', my Nana gets 'Fractured'.

Then it's my turn. I choose when to say stop very precisely. I pick my sides carefully - left and left again. When picking my number I nearly say 11 before something comes over me and I go with 4 instead.

I sit back, waiting for my defining word...

Knob

Yep, the word that defines me perfectly.

Knob

*Reading that back it sounds like a really tragic and super uncool game. But I stand by it. A bit. Don't judge me x

Oh my giddy aunt

2011-02-17T11:05:00.000Z

This is the site that greeted me yesterday morning on my mantlepiece:

Yep, I am that sad that I have been counting down and chalking it up and we are now in the 'days' as opposed to 'weeks' section.

I am getting married in 9 days. NINE DAYS!

And, of course there are still a million things to do including choosing a first dance. Yep. Still not got one. It is not so much that we can't find a song we like.... more that we can't dance. At all. Indeed, Steve and my first dance will actually be our first dance - we have never, ever danced together at a function before, not even swaying. Therefore all the fun, more 'us' songs are out of the question as the most we can muster is a cling and kiss and move very slowly dance. So we are aiming for emotional and slow, like slower than slow.

So far we have one option and we both love the song. Simple you say? It should be but for whatever reason neither of us is commiting to it which probably suggests something isn't right with it.

Onward we plod.....

Other things still to do include buying my knickers, working out what to have as my something old (don't suggest the knickers...), making CDs of all the music for the ceremony/drinks, actually deciding on all the music for the ceremony/drinks, making photo signs once my foam board comes, packing. Oh and all the little bits and pieces such as collecting bridemaid dresses, persuading groomsmen to try their suits on, collecting said suit, hair appointments and for some unfathomable reason, I decided it would be a good idea to shove a dentist appointment in as well. Why not?

Nine days and counting......

Today

2011-02-14T15:22:00.000Z

= suit fitting for my Dad.

Twas very stressful. Honestly I have never known anyone be so vain about their neck size. This is a brief transcript....

Dad (emerging from the changing room, in booming voice to the entire shop): Everything is fine. Except my collar on the shirt. I ordered a 17" and this isn't one. It is definitely a 16".

Assistant: OK Sir, but I am sure it is a 17", I checked them all myself.

Dad (staring the poor woman directly in the eye): It isn't. I have ALWAYS been a 17" and this is too tight!

Assistant: Right Sir... sometimes people need a bigger size than normal because it is a high wing collar so sits higher on the throat....

Dad: My upper neck is the same size as my lower. 17". Since I was 19.

Assistant: OK... well lets get it off you and we can see. We can always go up a bigger size if it is more comfortable.

Dad: That won't be necessary. I just need a real 17" shirt.

Fastforward five minutes when my Dad brings out his shirt (still topless by the way, totally and utterly appropriate....).

Assistant: Sir, this is actually a 17" shirt but it is not a problem, I will just switch it to a 17 and a half inch one.

Dad: That was not a 17" shirt. I am positive! A 17 and a half inch one will be too big!

And so it went on. In the end he admitted defeat and left muttering about how an inch was no longer an inch.

But all is not lost, I picked up a copy of the local paper, purely for the Valentine messages and not only found some super hilariously slushy ones but also one that makes absolutely no sense:

You and I are like wallpaper; we get better every day.

Anyone make any sense of that? Anyone? x

Not wedding related but I couldn't resist...

2011-02-09T09:09:00.001Z

So last night, we were flicking TV channels while discussing wedding stuff and randomly leave on something called 'All New Fat Fighter Families'.

Now the show is absolutely appalling, hosted by a very bizarre self styled 'Former Fattie' (his words not mine...) who says 'Ooooerr' and 'Get off your fattie bum bum blubberly!', it is all about family sets who are obese. Now, these are the programmes that Steve hates, raging from the especially when it comes to the sob story bit.

For example in this case, Fattie Bum Bum Man talked to the sibling set about the death of their father,

"Now Sarah, Tom, you both mentioned the death of your Dad, what would he say to you if he was here today?"

Before Sarah or Tom can answer, Steve interjects,

"Ummmmm... stop eating cake? I mean seriously, why would their Dad dying make them eat more?"

Now, I am a sensitive woman and decided to take the moral high ground;

"Steve, have you never eaten anything for comfort? Never?"

He pauses.

"No, that's what I use drink for."

ps. there were more, less politically correct things he said, specifically when the pair were trying to exercise but I thought I would spare you x

18 Days

2011-02-08T09:56:00.000Z

That is it. In 18 days I will be married.

It is such a very, very bizarre feeling. And something that I have deliberately tried not to blog too much about. Strange I know but, overthinker here, I don't want to be the woman who only talks about her wedding day, a perceived Bridezilla. Which is stupid as, with 18 days to go, of course that is all I am actually doing (apart from a full time job, my Mum's birthday, Valentine's Day, oh, and hosting an impromptu dinner party tonight... sometimes I don't half make things hard for myself....).

But I feel bad when I open my mouth and wedding blah comes out because I know, deep down, that it is not the big deal to anyone else but me. But, you know what?

Sod it.

I have decided that I am allowed to become a total wedding bore for the next 18 days - I mean, these are the LAST 18 DAYS I can really go on about it aren't they?

And, to spare my nearest and dearest the boredom, I have decided that this is the outlet to do it on.

So, starting today, get ready to be weddingfied Livy style, commencing with this picture:

Yes, this is the corner of my living room (see my fishies, Barry and Lady Jemima McLove?), these are all the boxes full of wedding ~~crap~~ stuff. And there is more coming. Oh yes....

Wandered many a weary foot

2011-01-28T10:49:00.001Z

I admit it, I am behind. I have been working on this post for like six weeks and it is finally here!

Bet you're excited.

It's the end of an era. I mean a year. Here's a little questionnaire someone forwarded to me to celebrate 2010. I skipped the questions that bored me. You are welcome to do the same as you read.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before? Went to a counsellor. Planned a wedding. Went totally nuts. Lost faith. Gained faith. Stayed home. Jumped forty feet out of a window.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Not a single one, and no, I won't. I'm over resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Not really... wait.... nope but several people I know but am not close to did. Oh and my blogging friend Page just had a baby girl yesterday (so technically not 2010) after two little boys.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Scatter the fish, my uncle Harry. Both missed in equal measure.

5. What countries did you visit? Just the one. The one I live in. First year not going abroad for ages.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010? A bit more self confidence. A bit more optimism. Self-mastery. Fajitas.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? February 13th - the day of the fire. February 14th - the day I realised that we were all amazing. The mid point of May - when I lost myself. The mid point of August - when I realised I was done being lost and started to find myself. And 19th December - amazing tea and amazing other things.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? God it it turning into fire central but I suppose that not
many people get to jump that far that often. Learning (and re-learning) to love my life. And perfecting the art of pie making - thanks Nana! x

9. What was your biggest failure? Well... just failing over the summer. It was yucky and bleak for a lot of time. Other than that, I didn't fail at anything, even my rookie steak stroganoff.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Some lower back crap that took an age to go and some dark head places. Oh and I burned my thumb (damn you spaghetti!) and had the flu.

11. What was the best thing you bought? I don't know. Nothing jumps out at me. I do know that I bought way too much though which given that I can't remember much of it can only mean badness....

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? My girls' - every single one of them. My brothers' - all of their many and numerous achievements make me swell with pride; they rock. And, if I had more smarts or more memory then I am sure there would be some public figures I could mention. But I don't!

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? So, so many people. I had to learn not to appall so easily. The biggest though? The press generally. Specifically The Daily Mail.

14. Where did most of your money go? Into our bellies and on our wedding.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My birthday. Christmas. Election Day. The new Harry Potter with my sister's name in the credits.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010? Dynamite - Taio Cruz, isn't that awful?

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer? (a) Same. (b) Same - but definitely more toned.... (c) Same.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Eating, working out, sex, spending time with friends, spending time with family.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Eating. Stressing. Crying. Not liking me.

20. How did you spend Christmas? Eating yummy food with yummier familiy.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010? Many, many times.

22. What was your favourite TV programme? Any of my 'Merries' - Merry Model, Merry Idol, Merry Talent. Oh, and Question Time.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I'm trying really hard not to hate anyone. But sure.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery? The shuffle feature on my Ipod...

25. What did you want and get? Everything and nothing. And the things I didn't get, I probably didn't really want. I'm a bit fairweather like that.

26. What did you want and not get? Fajitas!

27. What was your favorite film of this year? My sister's Harry Potter.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I woke up, felt sad, had cake, went to a old car show, went home, argued with Steve, went out for tea. I was 26.

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? A little emotional stability, but that is done now. And hey, I survived the year, I did good!

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010? Lacking.

31. What kept you sane? Knowing that things will be fine because they have to be and white wine.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? The Will. The Brad. The David. 2010 was the year of old school.

33. What political issue stirred you the most? Goes without saying.

34. Who did you miss? Myself and my friends.

35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010: Nah.

Gander

2011-01-25T07:21:00.002Z

Remember this? Well, they're back and they have brought a friend Mr Goose.

Seriously all night, HONK, HONK, HONK - tis beyond ridiculous. And you know what, I could let the ducks get away with it, they are cute and taste amazingly good in pancakes but a goose?

Not a fan.

I mean, to start with, they are evil. Everyone knows this. They have weird stretchy necks and beady little eyes. They can move incredibly quickly and have the most aggressive voice in the world. Plus one once tried to kill my sister. True story, they tried to drag her buggy into a pond until my mother kicked it (that sounds absolutely cruel but before calling the RSPCA, my sister wasn't even one year old and a goose was snapping at her ankles).

Wait, now I think of it, it may have been a swan with my sister....

Hmmm....

2011-01-24T10:26:00.000Z

Just a note, I am guessing it is classed as 'completely and utterly tragic' when your dream consists of running through, in order, Disc 1 of Season Three of 'How I Met Your Mother'?

Yep. Thought so.

It is weird

2011-01-20T11:05:00.000Z

A few years ago I read an article in a trashy magazine (a secret indulgence - honestly, perfect for making you feel better about yourself, eg. I feel stupid today.... but at least my husband didn't run off with my sister's son!), anyway, this article was about a woman who got antenatal depression. Yes, depression while pregnant.

Now, of course, I had heard of postnatal depression, but never antenatal.

Similarly, I have heard of the post wedding blues - which I have just named postmatrimonial depression. I mean, everyone I have spoken to got them a little bit; the fact it is all over, the fact you aren't planning for it any more etc...

Of course, being the crazy person that I am, it was only natural that I buck the trend.

Yes my loves, I have diagnosed myself with antematrimonial depression.

I am now at five weeks and two days to go and I am miserable.

Everything is busy and needs doing and while I usually thrive under pressure (indeed it is a pretty major part of my job), now I am floundering.

Part of it is the demand of it all and part of it is that I am anticipating the sadness to come.

I mean, I am planning on doing this once (take note Steve - no hoochies!), and in five weeks and two days, all that excitement of a proposal and an engagement and planning this brilliant, wonderful day will be gone.

And that is kind of sad.

I have enjoyed this time, this special, me and Steve time. And yes, I'll admit it, I have enjoyed the positive attention, the only time I have had this much thrust upon me was after the fire and that was just a hideous thing, not excited attention, just poor-you-how-awful-we-are-so-shocked-and-sad attention. Rubbish.

The up side is, of course, that I will be left with a (fingers crossed) amazing marriage, to a man I love and adore, and who loves and adores me back.

So that is what I am filling this sadness void with. That and wine. xxx

Today

2011-01-19T12:53:00.000Z

I my keys made a scene at the post office.

Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, panicked that the wedding was only eight weeks away, I hit the internet to source all of those last bits and pieces, you know; signs, cake toppers, wedding tissues (yep, I spent double what I would on little packs of tissues just so that they would have mini bride and grooms on them.... did I mention that I may be going cuckoo-catchu?) etc...

Fast forward to last Monday and the massive box full of goodies finally arrived in my office*, eagerly I tore it open, ready to ooh and ah at all the lovelies.

Except.... my cake topper was wrong. I had received one that was, admittedly, similar but definitely not the one that Steve and I spent hours arguing over (someone better flipping comment on it on the day...).

So I called the store and, happily, they admitted their mistake and told me just to post it back to them and they would sort it out.

So how did my keys get involved? I'm getting there, I promise.

This morning, I popped the topper in an open envelope and popped that into a carrier and left my flat on my merry way to work. I locked my door and, hands full, decided just to drop my keys into the carrier and get them out later.

Around an hour ago, I decided to pack the envelope up.

I typed out my letter, printed it off, sealed the envelope and wandered off to the post office when, while weighing it, the nice Post Office Lady mentioned that whatever it was, was jangling and had I wrapped it securely?

Confused, I racked my brains - cake toppers don't jangle, do they?

It then suddenly dawned on me.

My keys were in the envelope.

Which is how I came to find myself ripping open a parcel on the floor of the Post Office with a queue of angry and grumbling customers behind me.

* just a note, the post guys at my work do not like me at the moment, I am receiving on average three parcels a day. And my office is on the sixth floor.

When I was little....

2011-01-17T10:34:00.000Z

I was an interesting child, very talkative - in fact I said my first word at eight and a half months ('Otsat' - translation: 'What's that?') and my first sentence ('Aura naughty, Aura mack Livy' - translation: 'Laura naughty, Laura smacked Livy', yep, a complete tattle tale....) when I was 10 months old. I also walked around 9 months and refused to eat anything but Weetabix and McNuggets from the age of 11 months and 18 months.Wasn't I a delight?

As I got older and I gained a little sister, my interest in the world around me and my inquisitiveness only increased and, subsequently, I may have made my own conclusions on some things. I was reminded of this fact by a conversation I had over the weekend so decided to compile a list:

Things I thought were true as a child

* That the world was once black and white and only got painted later on, I asked my Nana this when I was three

* That people that died in films really did die and had been chosen because they were sad

* That writing cheques was a clever way of getting out of actually paying for things, as you could just give people a bit of paper instead of real money, I never understood why people ever accepted the paper - they must have been really stupid....

* That all cats were girls and that all dogs were boys

* That there were Boy Colours and Girl Colours and they were as follows:

Boy Colours: blue, green, black, brown, grey
Girl Colours: pink, yellow, red, orange, white

Purple could change gender

* That 'invaluable' meant that something had no value and was worth nothing at all. I often got confused as to why the Famous Five would have long and complex adventures looking for completely worthless treasure

* That cash points just gave you free money - I could never understand why my Dad never got the most he could each time

Choking my little sister - see, a delight!

What did you believe when you were little?

The wedding is getting to me

2011-01-11T22:36:00.000Z

It is making me lose me mind. The blondisms are out of control.

On Monday night, Steve and I went to bed early and watched the first episode Glee on +1 (delightfully awesome by the way). Half way through some blonde baby child man sang 'Billionaire', now I have heard this song many a time, it is even on my ipod (thank you 12 year old brother for lending me Now 77) but something in the way this giant mouthed guy was singing it clicked in me and I suddenly realised that the lyric is 'I wanna be a millionaire, so fricking bad' not 'so fricking bear' as I had previously thought. I had always thought it strange, I mean, why a bear? But who was I to doubt Travy McCoy and that other guy who loves me just the way I am?

Steve laughed for precisely 11 minutes and 28 seconds.

Then tonight, we were ordering candy scoops on Amazon, logged into my account, I pressed the 'Purchase' button and up popped the lovely thank you screen.

I scrolled down, reading the message and suddenly I came to a little box. It was labelled 'Get yourself a little something' and underneath were pictures of Sex and the City 2, Sylvanian Meerkat babies, Sylvanian Elephant babies and a Sylvanian Fresian Cow baby.

I gasp. I shiver. I catch my breath.

Me: Steve! Look what it has suggested for me to buy myself.

Steve looks over.

Steve: Yes...

Me: (still giddy) They are all things I really, really, really want! Look! Look! What a clever computer! How does it know?

Steve: They are all on your Amazon wishlist baby.

My face falls.

Steve: (starting to laugh) Did you think it just conjured up the Sylvanian/Sex and the City combo out of thin air? Who would want all of those other than you?

Me: (small and quiet) Another super cool person.

Steve: Oh your little face... (laugh laugh laugh) the computer isn't that clever... (laugh laugh laugh)

He stopped laughing after about 10 minutes, then half an hour later...

Steve: Heee heee heee heee heee heee!

So, to show his remorse, he is going to buy me all the babies.

Aren't they cute?

Oh and yes, Sylvanian Family babies are super, super cool.

Happy New Year!!!

2011-01-10T16:59:00.000Z

OK, so I'm a bit late. But I hope the first ten days of your new year were lovely. Mine have been and also busy. Turns out I get married in six weeks and five days - who knew?

So, after taking a nice bit of time over Christmas to not wedding plan (pure bliss I tell you), I am now back at full force. Every day parcels are arriving at work full of goodies like cake toppers, wedding tissues and fairy wings (for the little girls, not me, although I would totally rock them....). The Supers at my work aren't thrilled about this and, after carrying five 40cm mirror plates up to me on Friday, mentioned that we are not actually meant to get personal items delivered here. I nodded, smiled sweetly and said I would try to stop it happening.

There are eleven more parcels to arrive....

It is very bizarre to be this close to my wedding, sort of twilighty. I mean, it has been planned for so long and I have really enjoyed planning it so to be nearing the finish line is almost bittersweet.

I keep thinking of things that I would have loved to have done but can't as it is way too late. Like this dress:

From the delectable Candy Anthony

Personally, I have found the last few weeks of planning the worst. All the confirmations and finalities are dull. There is none of the fun of sourcing things and booking them, only the rubbishness of having a million calls from suppliers wanting to know what music to play during the meal, whether we need any high chairs or booster seats, what music we want playing as guest assemble,

Add to this the organisation of fittings for my dress, bridesmaid dresses and usher suits, hair trials, the fact that my florists flooded over Christmas ('It'll be fine Liv, I'll have the shop open again within a fortnight, don't panic'), two guests breaking up with their respective partners meaning that we have to find two new guests as we had to confirm final number with the venue two weeks ago and the fact that I, rather stupidly, insisted on making a speech myself (what the frick do I say?!), I am one busy lady!

My favourite thing ever though is the questions people ask you, now, most of them are well meaning but seriously I DON'T NEED TO KNOW!

We've had:

'You're aunty is setting off for the wedding at 12pm, is that ok?' - ummmm.... well, as you know it starts at 2pm so whenever she needs to set off for there is fine.

'We're thinking of coming to the wedding and then checking in to our hotel (entirely separate from the venue) after the meal, what do you think?' - I think that that is nice if that is what you want to do....

'I've bought a pink jacket for your wedding, it was sooooooo expensive, do you think you'll like it? I can probably change it if I have to' - I have no idea but we didn't have a dress code so whether I like it really doesn't matter.

And, the one I have been asked over 43 times now:

'So, February wedding, are we thinking of a Christmas 2011 baby?'

IT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS RANDOM WOMAN AT FRIEND'S PARTY, I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME, NOW PLEASE LET ME GET BACK TO MY QUESTIONABLE WINE!

And breathe! x

You nearly lost me

2010-12-23T14:24:00.000Z

I nearly died this morning.

It was more tense than this.

And worse than this.

And even scarier than this.

Yes my friends, I braved the Marks and Spencer's food hall.

Every year my dear Mutti and I tackle the big Christmas shop at Marks and, just to blow our own trumpets, we rock at it. We are fast, efficient and are able to duck and weave through people to snap up the last of the pigs in blankets.

But today was insane - I don't know if people have just got some extra crazy this year but it was just manic. People everywhere, randomly snatching things of shelves, I had a woman tell me that I was 'a selfish, unChristmassy bitch of a girl' as I got the last remaining two extra thick double creams (why don't you order more of these every year M&S - there are never enough!), indeed the woman then tried to snatch one from my trolley. Full of Christmas spirit.

There was a woman crying in the Christmas pudding aisle as they were out of the super luxury ones and 'she just couldn't serve the classic one' and, of course, it wouldn't be Marks and Spencer's if, amidst all this, there weren't lots of little old people who have come out especially, just two days before Christmas, to buy a loaf of bread and Hello magazine* - why do they do that, why not go to their corner shop?

After queuing for an hour and realising that we had forgotten our two £5 off vouchers, we finally escaped. Did we get more than we needed? Probably. Did we not get things that we really should have? Possibly (I wanted those mini roast beef Yorkshire puddings more than anything!).

So now, I am finally at home, making some last minute chocolate and mint bark and some cinnamon and apple vodka and looking forward to a nice glass of my favourite white wine (3pm to early) and watching a couple of my favourite Christmas films before the madness starts.

My to do list is already as long as my arm and I am convinced I am going to forget something but fingers crossed.

x

*incidentally, have you seen Nicole Ritchie's wedding in Hello? It is an.... interesting dress choice).

Double Chocolate Peppermint Crunch Cookies

2010-12-23T13:00:00.000Z

Oh yes.... these are goooooooood!

Now there are two ways of making them, to start with, I am going to tell you the 'proper way':

Ingredients
350g bittersweet chocolate chips
225g plain flour
25g cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
110g unsalted butter, room temperature
110g caster sugar
110g soft brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon peppermint extract
2 large eggs
4 candy canes, coarsely crushed
Method
1. Preheat oven to 200°C. Line two baking sheets with greaseproof paper. Stir in about 300g chocolate chips in medium bowl set over saucepan of simmering water until melted and smooth. Take about 3-4tbsps of the melted chocolate; transfer to small metal bowl and reserve for drizzling.
2. Whisk flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt in medium bowl.
3. Beat butter in large bowl until creamy, you can use an electric mix for this but a wooden spoon will do it just as well, elbow grease it up!
4. To the butter add sugar and both extracts; beat until smooth. Add eggs; beat to blend. Beat in melted chocolate chips. Add in all the dry ingredients from step 2; beat just to blend. Stir in remaining unmelted chocolate chips.
5. Scoop up a small amount of dough and then roll into a ball (if you are being super specific then it is about a tablespoon amount of dough). Place on prepared baking sheet. Repeat with remaining dough, spacing cookies 1 1/2 inches apart.
6. Bake cookies for about 8 to 9 minutes. They will be soft looking - as long as a knife tip comes out clean then they are done, don't make the mistake I made years ago when I was convinced they weren't done so put them back in over and over again - not good.
7. Cool cookies on baking sheet for about 5 minutes. Transfer cookies on parchment paper to racks to cool completely.
8. Rewarm the remaining already melted chocolate over small saucepan of simmering water. Using fork, drizzle chocolate over cookies. Sprinkle crushed candy canes over, arranging some pieces with red parts showing. Chill just until chocolate sets, about 20 minutes.

These are sooooo good and also freezable. Just defrost at room temperature and enjoy!

Now the naughty but easy way:

Ingredients
Double chocolate cookie mix from any supermarket
Whatever other ingredients it says you need on the cookie packet (usually butter and water)
1 teaspoon peppermint extract
About 50g chocolate
4 candy canes, coarsely crushed

Method
1.Make the cookies from the supermarket mix as instructed
2. When you add the water into the mix, also add in the peppermint extract
3. Once the cookies have been cooled, melt the chocolate (as above) and then drizzle over the cookies, decorate with the candy canes, chill and serve!

Now, the second way is the cheat's way but they taste just as good, leave less mess, use less ingredients and take up less time. Plus, with the decoration they will look homemade anyway!

And they should look something like this:

Image shamelessly nicked from the Goddess that is Prudence Pennywise!

Mince Pie Ice Cream

2010-12-23T09:01:00.002Z

As promised, my delicious Christmas Mince Pie Ice Cream. Last year this got devoured by everyone, even me and I don't like mince pies!

All you need is some sort of blender/food processor (yep - this isn't a technical recipe, think easy and tasty).

Ingredients
9 mince pies
1 litre of soft scoop vanilla ice cream
Things for toppings - sprinkles, sherry, cherries

Method
1. Leave the ice cream out of the freezer until quite soft.
2. Transfer to a blender or food processor, then crumble in the mince pies (I was told without lids but it works fine with them) and blend until smooth - this took me and my super brilliant button pressing finger about five minutes.

3. Return the mixture to a plastic container and freeze for 2-3 hours until firm.
4. Serve with yummy toppings like sprinkles, crushed nuts and even a bit of sherry if you are feeling naughty. You can even serve with a mince pie on the side if you want to super indulge.

This year I am attempting the same thing with Christmas pudding and an extra gag one of sprouts, mainly to torture my brothers.

Come back at 1pm for my Peppermint Chocolate Cookie recipe - YAHUMMY!

Tis the season to save money

2010-12-22T14:41:00.000Z

Christmas is my season. I love everything about it. It is the time of year I look forward to the most, it is the time of year I plan for, it is all about the event for me; family, togetherness, food, drink, laughter - you know the drill. And every year I go a little crazy. Think Martha Stewart but without any of the creative talent - I totally think I can make homemade decorations and at least eleven types of Christmas themed baked goods (FYI, this year Christmas Pudding Ice Cream is on the 'to make' list after last year's Mince Pie Ice Cream success - recipe will appear tomorrow after tonight's hopeful success!).

Now while I do succeed on some of these superwoman tasks, there is one area that I never fail on:

BUYING THINGS.

Yep, I try and compensate for my complete uncreativeness with lots of bought items! I am sure some of can sympathise?

There was the year I bought a four foot cracker that I carried back from London on a train and ended up never getting pulled (2005). The year I popped out on Christmas Eve to pick up some last minute bits and pieces only to come home £200 worse off as I spotted an extra gift for two people and therefore had to get extras for everyone else (2008). And, my personal favourite, there was the year that I spent three evenings straight working out how to rig the shoebox version of Deal or No Deal that I had made, so that my brothers (aged six and eight) would win the new Disney Cars DVD, no matter which box they picked (2006).

This is the time of year where my poor little purse gets the most battering (approaching the £2k mark last year - shhhhhhh!). Now this has left me in quite a quandary this year - due to the wedding (9 weeks on Saturday people....) I simply don't have the extra cash that I save throughout the year so spending has had to curbed and cut. Boo.

So instead of throwing money at the season, this year will follow the theme of fun and frugal.... fungal if you will - wait, that doesn't quite work does it?!

I am collecting some cheap but season of goodwilly (hee hee hee) ideas. Do you have any?

So far I have written a super fun Christmas quiz for all the family and, as a lovely Christmas gift to you all, I will happily email it to you with answers if you like - perfect look-how-much-effort-I-have-put-in-for-a-fun-filled-family-day activity.

Tomorrow I will also be posting some cost effective Christmas recipes including Mince Pie Ice Cream and Peppermint Double Chocolate Cookies - all super easy and super tasty.

Anyone got any other fun, cost effective Christmas tips?

You can have my autograph later

2010-12-22T10:07:00.001Z

This weekend, Steve and I went to Manchester. We shopped (more on that in this afternoon's post) and ate and were generally merry.

After a busy last day, wearily we made it to the station and, with an hour to kill and a temperature of -13, we made it to the slightly chavvy pub at the top of the station.

As soon as we got in there I could tell something was weird... the staff were all whispery and super smiley. We ordered drinks (to celebrate our just remembered sixth anniversary), ate some food and enjoyed ourselves, all the time with pub staff nudging each other and smiling at us manically.

About 15 minutes before our train, we started to get our stuff together (Steve is one of those people who feels the need to wait by the train for at least ten minutes), Steve went off to the bathroom.

While he was gone, one of the bar people came over to clear the glasses, she glanced up at me:

Nice Bar Lady: I hope you have a good journey.

Me: Thank you, you too! Merry Christmas! (Don't ask me where I thought she was journeying to.... although she probably doesn't live in the pub in Piccadilly station. That would be weird).

Nice Bar Lady: (Glancing around) I just wanted to say as well, we all really love you and your husband here.

Me: (Unsure of what to do): Oh.... thank you.

Then the Nice Bar Lady looked over at the other staff who were all gathered together smiling like insane people, she did a big thumbs up accompanied by a little excited dance. All the other staff waved at me, bouncing about as they did so.

Steve returned from the loos and we very quickly left.

The Steve and I, when we were a little younger and cuter

Now, apart from the Boaz Myhill incidents, there is no-one we look like. At all. Especially not as a couple.

Who on earth did they think we were?

OK.... lets clear something up

2010-12-10T16:35:00.000Z

Before I start - this is certainly not aimed at you, you lot always get my name right. However....

my name is spelt LIVY.

That is L - I - V - Y

It is not Livvy, Livi, Livvi, Livie, Lyvvy, Lyvi, Leevy or Levi. It is also not Libby, Lizzie or Lyddy.

It is short for Olivia.

That is O - L - I - V - I - A

It is not Oliver, Olivier or, my personal favourite, Alyvia.

Now we are hitting card season, please try and get it right, it is my name!

Just to be clear - I have no issue with you getting it wrong first time, 'Livy' is an unusual name and unless you have been told then it is all guess work.

BUT....

when I have already sent you a card, with my name clearly at the bottom or if I have spelt it out to you in the past or if you have known me for 26 years and are related to me (oh yes....) then please, I beg you, respect the fact that it is my name and spelt a certain way and that, by not getting it right, you are basically just showing that you really couldn't give a monkeys.

Thank you.

Livy xxxxx

ps I met another Livy last week but her name was short for..... Sullivan! x

Merry Christmas

2010-12-09T23:28:00.000Z

Is something ever so beautiful to you that you feel like you want to cry?

My Christmas tree is.

Every year since I have had my own flat, I have insisted on a real Christmas tree. It's something I just can't compromise on. And Steve always complained. Always said a pretend one would do. But he always gave in and I always bought a beautiful real tree.

Today my 2010 tree arrived. And it is just gorgeous.

I arrived home at 8.30, after a long, 12 hour day, to find that my Steve had managed to get my tree in the stand, angling it perfectly so that it branched out all evenly and strongly. He had carefully wound the lights round, making sure that there wasn't an inch that didn't have a brilliant white light peaking through.

And then he watched quietly as I painstakingly unpacked all of the decorations that I have collected over time and carefully picked, and slowly decorated the tree, stopping every few minutes to ensure that there were no gaps.

Excuse the blurry picture. It truely is beautiful, I wish you could all come and see it for real.

Now I am sitting here, at the bottom of my tree, our tree, gazing up at it, marvelling in its beauty and wonder and loveliness.