Robyn’s Nest

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.

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.

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!

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?!

 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