Things to cheer and fear…

I feel I’ve been neglected my blog a little bit lately, and there are a few reasons for this, namely because my writing efforts have been going into a book. Watch this space.

So, here’s a quick post for you: things to cheer and fear in 2009…

Things to cheer

• My Start Writing Fiction course which will hopefully spur me on to finish my book. There’s a novel in me, I just need to extract it
• Patty’s hen weekend in Glasgow. Reunited with my old netball team, we’ll be clay pigeon shooting and gossiping for a whole three days
• Quad biking for Jonesy’s birthday. Any excuse to get dirty
• Playing netball with my new team, a team that actually plays and has fun rather than moans and talks tactics all the time
• Continuing to improve my hitting and blocking in volleyball. I will be someone to fear on court…
• Weddings – Patty and Matty’s, my cousin’s, a childhood friend’s and CK’s from work
• A week in Spain (shame about the stinky Euro)
• A week in Dubai
• Lots of preggers friends will be having babies this year and the joy is being able to hand them back when they start crying and puking
• London Book Fair literary masterclass with Rhubarb Ruby in April
• The prospect of finishing my book and sending it off to agents
• All my gym visits and healthy eating paying off and becoming a size zero (this is a joke, btw, just looking buff will do me)

Things to fear

• The credit crunch/recession and constant feeling of guilt everytime I spend money
• The possibility that I’ll never get the mystery stains out of my almost white carpet
• The possibility that my contract at work won’t be renewed/made permanent and I’ll be jobless
• Potential joblessness may mean abandoning my lovely life and lovely apartment in the MK Massive and heading for pastures new
• My 30th birthday (remember, it’s only a number, it’s only a number)

Remember remember…

Remember remember the 5th of November. Well, I forget the 5th because today is the 6th but this post is still relevant. I think. Anyway, I’m gutted to be missing my mate’s bonfire and piano smashing party tomorrow night, because I’m entertaining guests.

Hurling a sledge hammer around is the best way to dispose of an old piano apparently and my matey is combining this event with a seasonal bonfire and drinks for all. She’s also health and safety conscious and has everything in order I’m told. I’ll need to get the lowdown on Monday.

So, I can’t be there ‘cos I’ve got some buddies over from the shire (Shropshire) and the pool (Liverpool) and we’ve decided to tackle Gordon Ramsay’s TV Cookalong. I have a few minor issues with this:

• I’m not convinced I’ll be able to get all the ingredients from Tesco and don’t have the time to shop around. Dried cherries? White crab meat? Hmmm.
• It’s not exactly a credit crunch menu. I can’t afford to invest in a bottle of port, just to use a few tablespoons of the stuff.
• Will too many cooks spoil the broth? Four of us in the kitchen might be overload. Think we’ll have to set up a production line and one person will need to take control of clearing up as we go along.
• I haven’t seen a couple of my mates for a while and I think the cookalong is kinda speedy. Can we gossip and bake at the same time?

Those problems aside, I think it’ll be good fun, although I bet Saturday is spent returning my kitchen to a tidier state. Here’s to Gordon!

Wedding belles

It was my mate Bloater’s wedding on Saturday (there’s a story behind why I call her Bloater, but it’s a long one. Her real name is Laura) and I was privileged enough to be one of her four bridesmaids.

Friday night was a bride/bridesmaid bonding session, catching up over a three course meal in the hotel and finding out exactly what was happening at this wedding ‘cos we were a bit clueless.

Now the wedding wasn’t until 4pm on the Saturday and it was a long wait. Two of us bridesmaids sloped off to a tanning lounge and had a mooch round Asda to kill some time, and we tried to leave it as late as possible to get ready so the make-up didn’t slide off our faces by ceremony-time.

It was a lovely day and Bloater made a beautiful bride, as expected, and I hope the happy couple are enjoying themselves on their honeymoon in Ireland as I write this.

In summary, here are my wedding highs and lows:

Highs

• Looking fab in our gorgeous dresses. Bloater was very kind to us bridesmaids as our dresses were wicked and can defo be worn to black tie dos in the future without actually looking like a bridesmaid.
• Catching up with friends I haven’t seen for a while.
• Having lots of drinks bought for me. Bridesmaids don’t have pockets – cunning plan! Although my fellow bridesmaid did manage to keep cigarettes and a lighter in her bouquet of flowers.
• Dancing with Bloater’s dad – even though I did tread on his feet about 20 times. Poor chap.
• Taking the piss out of bridesmaid Lindsay. She’s now worked out that constant abuse from me means I like her. It’s when I’m nice to people that they have to worry.
• Watching Bloater’s face over breakfast on her first day of married life – as she struggled not to throw up in her cornflakes.
• Loved the fact that Bloater’s dad’s speech involved a lot of sick. And how the groom once had to pull Bloater’s house keys from her handbag – the one she’d just been sick in on a taxi ride home – which promptly made him throw up in Bloater’s mum’s shrubbery. Hilarious!
• The groom’s mum, starting the night before the wedding, kept telling us bridesmaids that we needed to behave ourselves. We weren’t 100 per cent sure if she was joking or not. What had she heard?
• Fellow bridesmaid Alice waking up at 6am in total panic because she had no idea why she was in her pyjamas and was convinced she’d lost her bridesmaids dress. Drunken bum.

Lows

• Bloater deciding she needed the loo just after we’d squeezed her into her dress. I proved myself a true friend by bundling her into the loo, holding her dress up over her head and passing her the loo roll. very undignified.
• Doing up the buttons on the back of Bloater’s dress, very tricky, especially with freshly painted nails. But the groom had the worst bit – having to undo them at the end of the night.
• The photographer taking piccies of us while we were getting ready. Pyjamas and no make-up is not a good look for me.
• Lack of single people. Apart from three single bridesmaids there was one single man in the building and he’d already made approaches to the two other single bridesmaids on previous occasions. And he’s short. Serious lack of available talent.
• Couples everywhere, yuk. Yes, it’s a happy occasion but a bit of a depressing reminder for us single folk that we’re not even close to getting our own special day.
• Driving away from the hotel on Sunday knowing that it was all over. Maybe I should hire myself out as a professional bridesmaid?

Friends reunited

Warning: If you haven’t watched SATC and don’t want to know what happens, don’t read any further!

I was reunited with my pals Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda on Sunday night, and what a reunion it was.

I spent most of Sunday wallowing in my own misery, for one reason or another, so I found this latest installment of SATC particularly uplifting. As soon as the girls stepped on screen I felt tearful – my old mates were back.

Some of my fellow SATC followers were a tad disappointed with the film but I lapped up every minute of it. I never expected the film to be as wonderful as the TV series – how can you capture all those years we’ve shared with the Manhattan maids in just a couple of hours? You can’t, but I think they did a good job.

I felt like crying the whole way through the film, either in joy or sadness, and I did burst into laughter a fair few times. Charlotte’s little accident in Mexico and Carrie leaving a restaurant on Valentine’s night were my particular favourites.

I left the cinema feeling much happier than when I went in, with the SATC girls kinda reminding me how important friendship is. This was made all the more poignant by the fact my mate had rearranged her day and made an 80 mile round trip to come and scoff popcorn with me.

The only negatives were marriage and money. It was obvious Big was gonna stand Carrie up at the altar and the fact they did get married in the end was a bit cheesy. Carrie is a true singleton and I think she should have stayed that way. And how did the girls suddenly become so rich?! Samantha didn’t bat an eyelid when bidding £50,000 for a ring.

What we loved about the girls in the TV series was their relative normality, they’re just like us except they live in New York and are much more glam. I can’t afford to buy my mates Louis Vuitton bags for Christmas so maybe Carrie shouldn’t either? Just a thought.

Anyway, thanks girls for a lovely evening; it was nice to have you back.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Singleton city

My mates and I have decided that if we reach old age and still don’t have a boyfriend we’ll all move to Singleborough and live happily ever after – together! I’m fortunate enough to have a healthy gaggle of single female mates to share dating (horror) stories with but we each live in fear that we’ll be the last one to settle down.

It’s not that we all hate our single status (well, only when people look at us as if we have a disease) but more that we’ve had so many dating disasters that we’re not sure getting married and settling down will ever be part of our equation.

Inspired by this blog post on the single saga, I’ve tried to ask myself why I’m single, a question us singletons are often asked. Well, the answer is ‘cos we won’t just settle for anyone. I guess, between us, there are plenty of offers, but not many that you’d actually want to accept.

There seems to be a dearth of cute, intelligent, sporty men with good jobs, a bit of ambition and a sense of humour. And that’s all we’re asking for! And the ones we actually fall for tend to be commitment-phobes of the highest order – or “emotional fuckwits” to quote the immortal words of Bridget Jones.

So, what’s a girl to do in the meantime? My advice would be to enjoy yourself; fill your life with all the things that make you happy – handbags, hairdressers and shoes maybe? and don’t be afraid to pretend you’re one of the Sex and the City gals. Men? Easy come, easy go.

Not enough days in the week

Do you ever feel like you’re taking too much on? It’s one of my vices – I just can’t say no! (within reason, of course).

Years back I was one of those saddo people, stuck in a negative relationship, didn’t go out much – and certainly not at short notice – and spent most of my time eating. What a bore.

Since then I’ve gone full circle and as much as I crave a night in front of the TV every so often, just to have a break, I find myself getting increasingly restless. There are so many things I want to do, and there just aren’t enough days in the week to do them.

Obviously, work takes up a lot of time but without my job I’d be skinterooni and work’s not all that bad either - interviewing Naval pilots for example!

At the moment, as well as work commitments, weekly volleyball training and weekly korfball training, I’m tackling the CIPR Diploma in Public Relations, have registered for a shorthand speed development course, am about to join a netball team, am organising my friend’s hen weekend, arranging an end of season volleyball do and trying to bolster my fitness (so I’m ready to hit the beach this summer) by using the cross trainer as much as possible.

In between all this I need to eat, food shop, tidy, do washing, read Media Guardian and Heat magazine, catch up with friends and family, paint my nails and regularly apply fake tan. Nightmare. And because I don’t live all that near to many of my friends and all my relatives, I spend a lot of time in the car.

So, what’s the solution? Start saying no to things? I just can’t do it. Yes, I’m busy, and no, I don’t have much down time, but there’s nowt better than getting a sweat on at volleyball or hanging with my mates. Would I sacrifice that for a night in front of the box? No way!

Good Friday will be Great Friday

This Friday is officially Good Friday but for me it will be Great Friday. And here’s why…

I’m trekking back home to the shire Friday am (not home to the folks, an hour further north west) to Shrewsbury to catch up with two wicked mates and ex journo work buddies. I haven’t seen them since way before Christmas and the day will be dedicated to girly gossip, eating, laughing, and more girly gossip.

Mate number one, let’s call her Bloater (my nickname for her for the last five years), has just moved into her first home with her fiance and as she’s getting married in October and I’m a bridesmaid, there’ll be lots of wedding news to catch up on, plus a guided tour of her new pad. And what I love about Bloats the most? She’s a very intelligent woman but she says some really daft things, such as: “Venison? Is that a very big bird?”

Then there’s Sambo who’s a wee bit older than me and Bloats (she’ll hate me for saying that) and my former editor on The Tizer. Sam’s brill. You can’t shock her with anything you tell her (she’ll have probably done it already), she gives great advice – work and personal – and she holds down a stressy job while caring for three children. Well, two children and a husband actually. Soz Nige. And she also knows about grown-up stuff like buying vacuum cleaners, mortgages and sewing buttons onto clothes. Clever woman!

So, the three of us will catch up on four months of gossip and put the world to rights. Can’t bloomin’ wait. I also get the honour of staying at Bloater’s new gaff – in butterfly sheets no less. How very fancy.

Right, onto Saturday and Bridesmaids Wot Brunch. Bloater and her four bridesmaids, me being one of them, are gonna hook up for cake and cwaffee (to be said in American accent) to talk weddings, dresses (the four bridesmaid outfits are pictured above) and shoes. And then we plan to ditch Bloats and get down to the nitty gritty – the hen night. With four of us trying to organise it – all living at opposite sides of the country – it has the potential to get messy. I just hope my bossy-ness/control freakism doesn’t seep out when we’re talking L plates, veils and water pistol willies.

Anyways, it’s all good. And then there’s my Easter extravaganza to look forward to. Don’t you just love Bank Holidays?!

Forever friends

 

 Aren’t friends great! My too wonderful buddies from back home in the Shire (Shropshire, that is) came to visit on Sunday and it was fab to see them.

In five hours we managed to catch up on all the latest gossip - a forthcoming wedding, how the kids had grown, office antics (we all used to work together on a local rag) and I got to show off my new flat – as well as scoff lunch, sup endless cups of coffee and down some cake.

I hadn’t seen these two particular chums for over a month – it’s hard to see people regularly when you all live so bloomin’ far from each other – but that’s where true friendship comes in. We could go six months without a face to face meeting but I know we’d carry on where we left off when we next found ourselves in the same room. Email, text and phone calls in between all help but true friends are there regardless. And it’s great.

I have to say there are friends out there who I should make more of an effort to stay in touch with – hello Patty in Scotland if you’re reading – but my real friends are there for the long haul and I know we’ll never lose contact or that special bond.

That’s what’s nice about being in my late 20s. The friends I have now are the friends I choose to stay in touch with – because I like them, we get on and there’s no bitching and sniping like back in school. If a friend was going to slag me off to another friend then I wouldn’t be calling them a friend at all.

So, to all my buddies who’ve I’ve not seen or spoken to in a while, I hope you’re all well. Drop me a line soon! x