Other triangular snacks are available

I suspect I'm not being very professional right now. I'm running the library on my own, and I'm eating Doritos and salsa dip straight from the jar. I have spilled it down my chin, my cardigan, on my desk and on the squichy wrist rest thingy on my keyboard.

Merry Christmas!

List #2

Last night when I was closing the library, I found another list.

This one said:

egg bacon
tomato

2 x glasses
1 tea

I wonder if it was the same person? And what are they planning?

Cake or biscuit?

My main problem with Jaffa Cakes is not the “are they a biscuit or a cake?” debate (cake, quite clearly) but rather that they are so damn small! They are the only biscuits/cakes/niceness in the office, and I am here on my own. They announce very proudly on the packaging that there are 15 Jaffa Cakes inside, so if I eat them all, people will know just how very piggy I have been. Now do you see what the problem is?

What I need is one of these.

Every child needs this

and some adults too!

www.coloursarebrighter.com

Domestic Goddess

So, now that Mr L has gone back at university (or school as I like to call it) full time, I figured I needed a hobby for all those times that he's too busy studying to entertain me. I came up with lots of ideas; DIY, knitting, crafting, and just the one reason why none of those could be my hobby: I am rubbish at being practical and have no patience to learn new things. I thought about learning a new language, which I am good at and do love, but working two late nights a week really cuts your options down. That and I'm far too lazy to go to classes in the evening.

Finally, it dawned on me that I don't have to get a new hobby, I'll have more time to do the hobbies I already have (genius!). So I've taken to the kitchen with a vengeance and have started to cook more, read more cookery books and blogs (mmm, food porn) and even make my own cookery book from all the recipes I have gathered over the years. I even brought craft glue, which I have yet to cause trouble with, mainly by heeding the good advice given to me by Mrs D "remember, don't eat the craft glue".

On Monday I went shopping with some of the remaining gift vouchers that we were given at our wedding. I knew I was really an old married when I found myself in the House of Fraser kitchen section getting excited over finding a loose bottomed flan case and a silicon 6 hole muffin tray! You don't even want to know how super excited I got when i saw the sign saying "20% off all bakeware".

I can't wait to try them out. How long before my new hobby is Weightwatchers?!

They are my favourite band in the whole world ever

Twice in this past week on the way to work I have been struck down by radio rage. Or rather radio listener rage. Both for the same reason, people phoning up for competitions claiming to be the biggest fan of the band ever, ever, EVER and then turning out to be total idiots.

The first incident happened last Friday, when xfm were giving away 10th anniversary reissues of Placebo's debut album. There's your first clue, right there, the ten year anniversry - this band have been bround for at least 10 years. You phoned up, won a reissue and then went into a draw to go and see them live in Milan. So, between 8-9am the dude who phoned up was indeed, the biggest fan EVER of Placebo, ooh he LOVED them, he was, in his words "a massive fan". Then the DJ asks "so, you've seen them before then?", "no, never" came the reply. I'm sorry? I thought you were a "massive fan" and yet you're telling me that in the last ten years you've never managed to see them live? Ever? He then went on to say "I thought about getting tickets for this tour but I just haven't got round to it yet". What? This tour that sold out in about an hour, that the tickets went on sale for a good couple of months ago. Hey, I only "like" Placebo and I've seen them live at least twice. Forgive me, but thinking about maybe buying some tickets for a bands biggest tour to date, is not massive fan behaviour. This, this and this is.

And then this morning, in a multiple choice quiz in which the question was "where are The Zutons from?" and the answers were a) Liverpool, b) County Durham or c) Henry Kelly, yet another massive fan had to be literally told the answer before he finally said "Errrr, Liverpool?". Good grief. Even my mum knows that The Zutons are from Liverpool.

Bringing home the bacon

We have our food shopping delivered. This is not because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket but rather...oh, okay, it's because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket. Sometimes they can't provide you with exactly what you asked for, and so send a substitute. Sometimes these make sense, for example you don't have Braeburn apples, you send Coxes apples, sometimes, they make no sense at all. At all!

Imagine you are the person shopping for us (in my mind this is always a man who has never had to do food shopping in his life. Probably still lives at home with his mum). Into your trolley you have just put vegetarian 'sausages', vegetarian 'mince', soya yogurts, soya milk and many other products marked on the front with a very helpful big green 'V: Suitable for vegetarians and vegans', and then you get to the quiche section. There are no Cheese & Onion quiches left, so, bearing in mind what you have just put into your trolley, what do you send instead?

Why, Quiche Lorraine of course!

An Englishman's home is his (eco)castle

I love property programmes. I love them all and can watch them for hours on end, even if they are repeats. I think it's mostly because I know there's no way we'll be able to afford our own home anytime soon, I just love being nosey and looking at other peoples (more often than not) horrific takes on decoration.

I'm on a half day today, so I made a cuppa and a sandwich and sat down to watch Escape to the Country, which is a programme about, believe it or not, people moving to the country. Escape to the Country provided me with one of my favourite property programme moments ever, where a family from Birmingham looked at houses that they could run as a B&B, and everytime they went to open a door just before they did they said "Is it a toilet?" and then when they finially found the smallest room in the house exclaimed in a very excited voice "Oh! It's a toilet!!!!!" For weeks following this episode to me and my workmate opening the drawers and doors in our office at the time going "What's in here? Is it a toilet?". Imagine the hilarity!

Anyway, todays couple wanted an eco-friendly house. It was all "we need green this" and "eco that" and he was obsesseed with double and triple glazing. They wanted to have their own veggie patch and recylced water system. When they finally found a house they liked, they went down to the cellar where Eco Man said "Oh, this is brilliant. I could have a massive TV screen on that wall, a massive leather sofa there and all my games consoles."

So that'll be eco-tv, green leather and double glazed playstations then?

It's the least wonderful time of the year

As anyone who knows me knows, today is my least favourite day of the year. A Level Thursday. Whilst most rational people can let their A Level results day fade to a distant memory, mine is right up there at the front in bright technicoloured awfulness. The first thing I said this morning was "Grrr. A Level Thursday".

I hate A Level Thursday as it was one of the worst days of my life, and every year when I see all the 18 year olds who already have everything (blonde shiney hair, slimness, rich daddy) opening those godawful envelopes live on tv, only to discover that - and Oh! What a suprise! - they got straight A's, my heart goes out to all the 18 year olds who get 3D's and an E and think their life is over. Although I suppose letting the thick kids open their results only to start crying and pounding the ground wouldn't make quite as heartwarming a scene on breakfast tv. It would be more entertaining though, and at least I'd be able to relate to it "Oh, look, they've run out of the building straight to the clearing hotline to try and beg a place somewhere, I did that!", "Oh dear, she's ruinung her mascara, she could at least have waited 'til she got home like I did".

It just seems to be something I can't get over, which I should really, as it was 11 years ago. Wow, now I feel old......although to be fair, if I'd spent less time in pubs or misbehaving with boys and more time in actual lessons, I doubt it would have been so bad. I may not be a straight A girl, but boy, did I have fun!

The Big Five O!

Tomorrow one of my colleagues turns 50. He doesn't seem too fussed about this, which could be down to me shouting things like "enjoy the last night of your youth" across the library to him as he was leaving today....but me and my boss are very excited! We've been planning a party for him for ages. I've made a cake (I really have to stop volunteering to make cakes, I was whipping cream at 6.15am today) and we have banners, balloons, musical candles, everything you could ever want for a party. Apart from booze, but then we are having the party in the day, a room full of librarians is one thing, a room full of drunk librarians, well that's quite another matter altogether.

Only trouble is I have to leave as the party will be starting, as I have an appointment right the other side of town, so my dilemma is this - how best to reserve myself some party snacks? I might stick post-it's on to things I like the look of, or I could always hoard things in my desk...

This is hardcore

On Friday night we went out to celebrate a friends birthday. His wife had booked the private dining room here for him. She is a much better wife than I am. It was really lovely evening, a fabulous dining room to ourselves, the best food ever, good company, great service. In fact we were having such a lovely evening that it was some time before someone noticed that the pictures in the beautiful frames on the walls were porn. And why, yes they were! Lots and lots of victorian porn. Well! It was almost enough to put me off my dark chocolate and orange truffle cake.

Almost.

And judging by the bored faces of the ladies in the Vicporniana, I'd say my dessert was a whole lot better than theirs.

Lazy Librarian

I'm not very good at having a lie in. Stupidly early nights yes, lazy weekend mornings no. But this weekend I have had two 9am starts (this is probably the equivalent of you lying in 'til 1pm) and an afternoon nap! I must've needed it, as my nanna would have said. However, all this lying down has left me with a really bad back. The kind that is fine until you try to do something, which means every time I try and get out of bed, get off a chair, bend down, or do anything I am making an involuntary "oooh", "sssss", or "eee-aa-ooo" noise. Which is not very attractive, and the kinda thing I wasn't expecting until after my 30th birthday.

What's that coming over the hill...

...it's three people who appreciate an early night, that's what it is!

So a couple of weeks ago, me, Miss S and FM Dave went to see The Automatic. Oh, I thought we were being both 'hip' and indeed 'down with the kids' by going to see a relatively new band, and as I brought the tickets before Monster was even released (The Automatic 'Monster', not the REM 'Monster'. I don't think The Automatic were even born when that was out...) we had every reason to feel cool and smug. Ah, indie smugness, one of my favourite hobbies.

When we got to the doors a good 30 minutes after they should have opened, they were still shut! And there was a queue. A queue full of what appeared to be small children, which made us all feel 80 years old. We decided that we didn't want to stand around and wait for the doors to open, what with being 80 and all, as we needed a sit down. Ooh, our aching backs etc. etc. When we returned to the queue, the doors were open, and in we went, pausing only to remark how loud the music was - "it's so loud" - and also to note that the "loud" was still a good floor or two above us, and could only get louder.

So, to cut a long story short, we waited and waited for The Automatic to come on. And when did the cheeky blighters decide to turn up? 10pm, that's when. 10pm! On a school night! What were they thinking? Luckily they were rubbish and we decided to leave early, with a sensible loo stop on the way out, so we wouldn't have to catch the last train, or heaven forbid, the night bus home.

And that's when I knew I was old.

Senior moments

Blimey, I haven't blogged in ages! Lazy old me. There are lots of reasons I haven't blogged. I am actually busy doing work at work (I know!), not a great deal has happened to me in the last two months, but most importantly, my memory is broken. In the past couple of weeks you would not believe the amount of times I've thought "ooh, I'll blog about that" only to sit down in front of the pc and find my brain is full of "errrmmm" and not a lot else.

I'll start carrying a pad and pen around with me at all times, and we'll take it from there.

Pretty in pink

Next week I am going on my first ever gay hen night! The organiser says that the hen wants us to wear at lest one item of pink. She says "you MUST have a pair of pink shoes in your collection? "

Pink? Do I have pink? My wedding dress was pink! Although I will refrain from wearing my wedding dress (and only because I really don't think that it will fit me anytime soon, what with all the post wedding pigging out), I will wear my pink shoes, use my pink handbag, wear a lovely pink brooch and paint my nails pink. Not that you'll be interested, but I will also wear pink undies!

Trains, planes and automobiles

This is how I got to Alicante, the full journey from leaving home, to arriving in the villa...

Walk to station
Train to Victoria
Bus to Oxford Street
Go to work
Bus to Islington
Walk up Upper Street
Go to party
Walk to tube
Get tube to Victoria
Go for a wee at Victoria (in the toilets, stupid)
Get back on tube to Heathrow
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from Heathrow to hotel
Sleep in hotel, zzzzz
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from hotel to Heathrow
Fly to Madrid Barajas airport, terminal 4s*
Get funny underground driverless train to Madrid Barajas terminal 4
Get bus from terminal 4 to terminal 2
Get a bit lost in terminal 2
Get on metro to Madrid Chamartin train station
Get train to Alicante
Car fom Alicante station to Villa...and, relax.

Phew!

*Madrid terminal 4s - still not convinced it's actually in Spain. Should it really take two forms of transport just to leave the airport?

We're all going on a(nother) summer holiday...

I spoke to my mum last night, as she is off to Spain today with my sister and my dad. Me and Mr L. are flying out to meet them tomorrow. We're staying in a friend's villa, and my burning question was "will there be towels?". Thankfully the answer was yes, 'cus as at that point I only had room in my bag for one tissue, and that's not going to get two people dry every day for a week, is it?

My mum said "Have you packed?" and yes, I had packed. Very lightly and sensibley, in just my day pack. Half of which is taken up with wedding photos. So I told my mum that I had hardly packed anything and she said "Ooh me too. I'm just taking two pairs of shoes. Wait, no two pairs of shoes and some flip-flops. And the shoes I'm travelling in."

Right mum, that's travelling light. Four pairs of shoes for seven days.

You stole the sun from my heart

Conversations two grown up married woman should probably be too sensible for #1

Me: JDB is playing the barfly next week. The Barfly! when I told Mr L he said "but it's really tiny" and I said "Yes. I know. That's the whole point." It's sold out but I'm going to try and win tickets. God, can you imagine? Think of the stalking potential. Although I'd also have to make a banner saying "I WAITED for you James Dean Bradfield. WAITED. For years! And now I'm married and you'll just have to deal with it."

Mrs D: I bet he won't be able to deal with it. He'll be all "boo hoo I've lost Abby"

Me: And I'll be all "yeah, and you tell Dave Grohl next time you see him, too"

Mrs D: And he'll be all "We had a vigil when you got married - we cried and cried and Grohl wore a bridesmaids dress"

Me: Do you know what, I bet they totally did that. And I bet the bridesmaids dress was borrowed from Nicky Wire.

Glasses? Check! Strudel? Check!

This list was found on a post-it in the library today:

Travel cream
Adaptor
Strudel
Creme Caramel
Take Glasses

What was this list for? I like to think it's a packing list and that there is someone who uses our library who ranks packing a Strudel and a Creme Caramel as more imortant than packing their glasses for a holiday in the sun.

Sleeping Beauty

There is an elderly lady who has lunch at the same time as me, and sits in the funny bit of a corridor/staff room type 'area' where I also luncheon. Everyday this lady sits down, opens her newspaper, eats half a sandwich and then falls asleep. Her head drops down and she looks for all the world as though she is deeply engrossed in her newspaper. She is so sound asleep that no-one can wake her. You'll get the occasional newcomer to the 'area' who tries to ask if they can take a seat at her table, or pinch a chair to move to another table, and they will ask politely, then ask a bit louder, then shout, some of them wave, then they just take the chair. Nothing will wake this woman, fire alarms, kids holiday clubs in the room next door, loud laughter, nothing.

Or so I thought. But yesterday I managed the impossible. Being slovenly in my wifely duties, I hadn't bothered to make lunch and so had been to the canteen to buy some sandwiches. Being slovenly in my dieting duties I had purchsed a Double Cheddar sandwich, mmmmm, calories. I went to the 'area' and there were no seats at an empty table, so I went and sat by the window, opposite Sleeping Lady. There she was, sound asleep, until I opened my sandwiches, "zwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwippppppppp" went the plastic cover, and she sat bolt upright and looked around in a very funny "I wasn't asleep at all" kinda way, settled back down and went back to sleep. And I giggled to myself all the way through my Double Cheddar sandwich.

Lost! Series 2! hooray!

So I know the world and his wife will be blogging about Lost series 2 on British tv at last, so I'll be brief.

1. Why is Marti Pellow living underground on the island?

and

2. Don't come here for witty comments on Lost first. I can neither stomach the amount of ads that channel 4 stick into the show (12 minutes worth after 3 minutes of the show?) nor stay up 'til 11.05 in the pm so I have to record it and watch it the next day.

Worth getting married for

Just to hear my 5 year old godson say with a very serious face "I'll need a poo soon I've eaten so much cake".

Which pips the previous 'quote of the wedding' from the day before by the wonderful waitress "these knives are so sharp they will cut BOTH your arms off!!!" Not just a finger mind, or a hand, but BOTH YOUR ARMS.

I do (love pizza)

So, the wedding has been and gone. We enjoyed it a great deal, it was everything we wanted it to be with all our friends and family around us, everything ran smoothly. Well, almost everything and as my very wise best friend said "well, it wouldn't be a proper wedding if there wasn't a problem".

The most worrying aspect of the whole weekend was the discovery that I can no longer eat a whole pizza. Luckily we discovered this after the "I do" bit otherwise Mr L would have had perfectly good grounds to call the whole thing off. Having denied myself pizza since Christmas I was really looking forward to the meal after the wedding. And I was staaaaaaaaarving hungry. So I ordered my favourite pizza, and sensibly had a salad as a starter to leave enough room. It started off well, but with a good 1/4 pizza left I was full. F.U.L.L. To the top. The shame! I put this theory to test again on our honeymoon and guess what? Had to leave 1/4 again! However, you can still talk to me as both times, despite being so full, so very, very full, I managed a dessert.

She's still got it.

Dear blog,

please forgive me, I forgot your first birthday! How careless of me. I am a bad mother. If I wasn't so sick of baking, I'd bake you a cake, but after spending all of last weekend baking wedding cakes I just can't face the greaseproof paper again. Not yet.

Well, what a year it's been ey? We've seen the formation of Indie Boot Camp, put on and lost one stone in weight, laughed at Bookish Barbara, atteptmed to join not one but two GP surgeries, and decided to get married. No, not me and you married blog, that would be crazy!

Anyway, I'll leave you to celebrate your birthday. Just don't drink too much okay?

Lots of Love,

Lady Librarian

P.S. Yes, I am fully aware that this blog is the equivalent of those 'flashback' episodes of Friends that nobody really likes.

Happy Hen Night!

banner
Originally uploaded by Lady Librarian.

I'd like to say that I've only just around to blogging about my hen night as I've only just recovered, but that would be a lie to make me sound more rock and roll than I am. In truth I am lazy.

But look at my banner! It is a work of beauty and I love it. I have it at home, and if we ever live anywhere big enough to put it up, I will! Click on the picture to see an in depth explanation of the banner, just like at a museum.

It was an excellent night, and went a bit like this (I think):

2.30pm Meet friends at Euston Station and nip to M&S for those hen night essentials: tea bags and champagne.

4pm Cups of tea and glasses of champagne all round and a game of 'pin the winky wonky on Dave Grohl'. This is a bit like pin the tail on the donkey, but with more rock stars and penis shaped vegetable photos.

6.30pm Everyone going "argh we have an hour to get ready and there are four ladies per bathroom!"

7.45pm I am bossing everyone into putting the finishing touches to their make up and bundling them out the hotel.

7.50pm I shove four of the ladies into a taxi telling them a bus would never turn up, and we'll get the next available taxi.

7.51pm Me, Miss S and Booky B get on a bus, realising we have sent the four ladies who don't live in London off in the taxi...

8.05pm Hurrah! We arrive at the pub and the taxi ladies are already there and getting the drinks in.

9pm Whilst I am forcing booze down Booky Bs neck like it's going out of fashion, we make friends with a young man called John. Booky B thinks she told him he looked like a male prostitute. What she actually said was "You look like a male prostitute". John replied with "Well, how much would you pay for me" Booky B "Five pounds. And I'd expect four pounds fifty change" How did this woman end up married?

10pm Head off from the pub to the club. I demand we get taxis! Four of us jump into the first taxi and I ask for a fictitious address. We want the Macadam building, I ask for Macadam Street. It's a miracle we get there. As we are pulling off in our taxi, we look out of the back window to see a rikshaw dude pulling up looking like all his birthdays have come at once. At last, a punter, willing to risk life and limb in my rickety rickshaw! And not any old punter but three lovely ladies! The three lovely ladies wave rikshaw man on and get in a proper taxi.

10.30pm Making our way into the club, we cannot manage (between eight of us, two totally sober) to press the right button in the lift. This is shocking. Three of us even worked in this building for quite a while. All the more shocking is there are only three buttons you can press - the way out, the club and for some reason floor 2. This totally flumoxes us, and we (of course) press the wrong one, pile out at floor 2, only to turn on our heels and pile back in. We press all buttons for good measure and eventually get into the club.

10.35pm I make my way to the DJ box. I tell him "hello, it's my hen night" point to my 'Abby's Hen night 2006' badge lovingly made by my sister. I continue; "if you play The Smiths or The Wonderstuff I can guarantee you at least four (hold up four fingers) ladies on that empty dancefloor (point at empty dancefloor)" DJ agrees. I think he may have been a little scared.

10.40pm Carter USM 'Bloodsport For All' comes on! Yesssss! Pretty sure that only me and Booky B knew the track, most of the kids in there probably weren't born when it was out. We dance like we're 19 and manage to take up the whole, empty dancefloor.

2am We continue to dance the night away, Booky B and Miss S attract a lot of male attention, all of them weird. Finally when our legs are about to seize up we head back to the hotel, where asking for extra pillows seems to be a very greedy thing to do, the receptionist telling us "I am very busy" forgetting that we just had to walk through a very empty reception to get to our room...

We're talkin' about money, money

In particular the £30 I am worse off today after a 7 year old promise came back to haunt me.

Anyone who knows me, knows that saying "let's go see (insert name of band here)" is my number one hobby of choice, and when I am drunk it is my super number one hobby. Anyway, just before I left home seven years ago, my mum was talking about Simply Red, and how she'd love to go and see them. Now this was too much bait to refuse, so being the good daughter/obsessed with saying I'll go to gigs person that I am, I said "if they ever play round here, I'll go". Now I'd just like to point out that seven years ago the chances of Simply Red ever playing my home town were remoter than something right over the far side of on a remote island in the Unites States of Remoteshire.

Fast forward seven years, and guess what tickets I just brought? £30 to go and see Mick "lardy" Hucknall and his possee, at an outdoor gig in one of the rainiest towns in the country. Yeah, thanks Stoke City for building a stadium big enough not only for football, but also for gigs. Thanks a big bloody lot.

Bye bye indie street cred, bye bye.

Look at this

Lazy blog I know, but really, look at this. It's rude and funny! Result!

Party Hard

I'm trying to put together some 'tunes' for the party the day after the wedding. For my first selection I was thinking I'd go all 1996, you know, the year we met, and also the year of some damn fine music. The last time I made a CD for a wedding party it almost sent me over the edge. And my friend spent three weeks before his 40th birthday putting together his perfect party mix. So, in order to ease the pain this time round, any suggestions? What makes a good party song?

There are just a few pointers:

• No Coldplay/Travis/Embrace/any group with whingy front man/woman.
• No swearing in the song! My mum and dad will be there!
• If we are to dance to it, please bear in mind that we will be drunk and in ridiculously high heels.
• If we are to dance to it, and there's a routine that goes with it, all the better!
• No sad songs to make the maudlin' drunks cry.
• Songs which mention weddings will get you bonus points. Well, they would if there was a point system going on here. Which there isn't, becuase I'm not Tesco Clubcard.
• Songs that mention librarians get 1,000 extra bonus points. Maybe I should set up a points system.
• Did I mention no Coldplay? I mean it!
• Booky B, I am not playing 5 hours non-stop The Darkness.
• Take your cue from the Last FM link over there.

Any suggestions?

Yoga

So what's that all about, then? A friend at work has lent me her yoga dvd, as I've been meaning to try yoga for ages (I have no idea why, I just feel I should). It was as I suspected, I am in no way co-ordintaed enough to do yoga. By the time I've worked out my lefts and rights, the bloody woman is on to the next move. And how can something so holistic make you swear so much? And the falling over, what's that about?

Why I never wanted to phone the bridal shop in the first place

Bridal shop lady: "Hello, House of Brides"
Lady Librarian: "Hello, if I wanted to come and look at dresses, do I need to make an appointment or can I just come along?"
BSL: "Ooh, no deary. You can just come along if you want to, the only time you need to make an appointment is on a late night or a Saturday"
LL: "And if I wanted to try them on?"
BSL: "That's fine my love, we'll help you with all that, don't you worry"
LL: "Right, okay, well I should be coming along in a couple of hours, is that okay?"
BSL: "Fine, fine. When's the wedding dear?"
LL: "29th April"
BSL: "29th April next year?"
LL: "This year."
BSL: "THIS YEAR????? THE 29TH APRIL THIS YEAR???!! Why, you've left it far, far too late. This year?"
LL: "But it says you have a 6 week rapid service, and the wedding isn't for another 8 weeks"
BSL: "Oh no, I'm not doing that. I couldn't guarantee it"
LL: (thinks well why do you offer it then?) "Oh okay, bye"
BSL: "Bye" (puts phone down) "Jean, Jean! Bloody Nora, Jean! She's getting married on the 29th April THIS YEAR and she's only just asking about dresses! THIS YEAR! I need a drink. No, not tea, Jean, Didn't you hear me? I said 29th April THIS YEAR. Pass the whisky. This year!! THIS!!!! YEAR!!!!"

Mork calling Orson

If Mork was calling this Orson, I really hope he'd be calling them to tell them to feck right off, and take their fecking stupid "song" with them. I hate No Tomorrow so much, whenever it comes on the radio I have to fight the urge not to repeatedly punch the next person I see. To say I hate this song would be the understatement of the year. The first time I heard it, I thought "this is pretty cool, I could dance to this, listen to the hi-hat in the chorus, it's all tss tss tss". Then I made the mistake of listening to the lyrics. It's like Orson swallowed the unabridged version of The Brian Molko Rhyming Dictionary* and puked them up. In time to the music. Booky B tried to convince me "they are like Shakespeare". I think she was joking.

The lyrics that makes me feel the most violent, are the rhyming of "shiny pants" with "romance"(what!?) and "red bull" with "school". Now the more literate amongst you might notice that "red bull" and "school" don't actually rhyme. And this, pop fans, is what makes me want to scream. Because Mr Orson sings "red bool" and those lyrics, are the lyrics I hate the most , ever!

* Oh, how I wish this actually existed.

Wimp!

Checking my RSS reader, I noticed this question on a medical Q & A feed:

Q. A 24yr old man doing survival course in Philippine jungle april this year, for 10 days what vaccinations should he have?

Vaccinations on a survival course? Surely that's cheating?

Beware! This one's about the W!

Mr L is best manning for his friend who is getting married on September 30th. Yesterday we got a beautiful, handmade invitation from them.

Us? Our invites were £3.50 for ten from Marks and Sparks, and whilst we may have written them, oh okay, written some of them, we haven't sent them yet. We don't even have stamps! And we get married in 2 months.

Oops.

Lovely hair

Ohmygod!! How fabulous is my new haircut? And the fringe! Marvellous! Look at the layers, ooh and I like the parting on a different side. Lovely, lovely hair!

You can't have your cake and eat it

Cake #3 The winner!

Or can you? Two weekends ago we trekked up to my mum and dads for a visit and The Great Chocolate Wedding Cake Tasting Competition (TGCWTC).

Now, at the W there will be three cakes. A traditional fruit cake which I am making (I'm using the family Christmas cake recipe, but with less Santa decoration), a vegan, alcohol free fruit cake which Mr L is making for the guests that don't drink, and the chocolate cake, which my mum is making, requested by Mr L but coveted by our godson. I can see it now, Mr L with one side of the cake, a 5 year old with the other, the cake flying through the air...

Anyway, at TGCWTC we tried four cakes. My poor mum was so enthusiastic at the beginning, we left her on the Saturday cheery and looking forward to trying out four different recipes. My sister came home at 10pm the same day to find her at her wits end wrestling with fondant icing. She made the cakes, cut them in half, iced half of each cake (there were two different types of icing) and numbered the cakes. Then we all (12 of us) had a piece of each cake.

Life's too short to explain everything that happened at the TGCWTC so here are the highlights;

• Godson put in charge of giving cakes marks on chart we drew together.
• We were allowed to eat the cake before our dinner - when does that ever happen? In fact my mum was encouraging it!
• Cake #4 (which we tried first, don't ask) enjoyed by all, especially godson who wolfed it all down without dropping a bit.
• Cake #2 full of booze and chocolate, yummy but the general consensus was that it was "a bit too rich".
• Cake #3 Mmm, coffee and chocolate and delicious.
• Cake #1 Mmmmm, also delicious! This is so difficult!
• Every cake preceded by Mr S asking "is this cake #1?".
• Me worrying about godson dropping brown cake onto mums new beige carpet. Guess who made more mess (clue: initials are LL)?
• Mrs S phoning up when she got home to say "don't tell your mum, but I've been sick".
• Mr L having to have the next day off work with tummy ache.
• D asking for seconds! Seconds!

You should be able to see (but not taste, boo!) the other cakes by clicking on the cake above...You'll also find the epitime of the Wedding Cake; Scott & Charlene's cake. Altogether now "Suddenly you're here with meeee".

I want my MP3

I don't smoke, I don't drink that much. My vice? My MP3 player. I can't go anywhere without it, since it arrived in the post at work 10 months ago we have been inseperable. Until now.

On Saturday night we were staying with my bestest friend, Mrs S, and I was showing off my lovely little MP3 player. My beautiful purple Zen Micro. Sob. Mrs S was saying how she wanted an MP3 player, but then admitted she didn't know what they did, or why she wanted one. I blame the continous repeating of the Balamory christmas dvd that her 2 year old insists on watching "Mummy, Mory! Moreeeeeeeeeeeey", it's obviously sent her insane.

Anyway, when we went up to bed 1.5 litres of Sangria later, I was too sleepy to actually put my player back in my bag. It wasn't until we were at my parents and leaving for the station the next day until I realised I'd left it on their bedside table! Noooooooooooooo! Double Nooooooooo!!!

I won't get it back until my mum comes to visit in THREE WEEKS!! So for now, I'm listening to my radio, my post Walkman (RIP) pre-MP3 musical accompanyment. And instead of my usual expensive fabulous, outside noise blocking headphones? I have a pair of headphones my dad stole from the open-top tour bus of London.

Sob.

Cluck. Part One.

Whilst reading his, please bear in mind that the ladies involved in this, were also involved in this. We are also mostly librarians. We like to plan. Mostly to take over the world, mwah ha haaaa. Did I say that out loud? The following has been taken from various emails sent today, entirely in work time. Names have been changed to protect the librarian sisterhood.

From: Me
To: Bookish Barbara & Miss S.

Okay, here are my musings on the Hen Night.
1. Check into hotel as soon as we can. Mrs S wants an afternoon nap, I want my moneys worth :)
2. Get ready, with at least 2 changes of outfit per person, whilst drinking lots* and having a mini buffet like at Booky B's. Lots of M&S small food. Yum.
3. Go for a few drinks, meet the others who aren't staying in the hotel (fools!). Possibly go for cocktails* in that swanky bar that I went to with Mrs D although they are £6/7 a pop, yet are huge and delicious. Classy.
4. Go and shake our moneymakers at the student union. Not so classy.
5. Get back to hotel, sleep/be sick/steal toiletries.
6. For those who want to, go for breakfast/lunch (ooh I mean 'brunch' don't I?) at Eat and 2 Veg. Mmm.
7. Go home
* = Not my non-drinking sister. Boo!

How's that sound?

From: Booky B
To: Me & Miss S

I had an email about my friend Crazy Hen's (note: this is not her real name) hen night which is on the 12th of never (note: these are not the real dates) and it sounds hideous. It's in a galaxy far far away (note: this is not the real venue) for a start, and they want everyone to dress in pink and pay £15 each to hire a pink limo, and go to some hideous meat market to get mawled. And as I'm missing the wedding I can't really miss it. Agh! Your plan sounds much better Lady L!

From: Miss S
To: Me & Booky B

Ok - I'll leave booking the hotel to you - but anything else and I'm your girl. Balloons, banners and glitter are mspecialtyty!

To be continued....

Valentine

No, I'm not a week early, this is actually a Public Service Announcement.

Stop what you're doing immediately and go here to pre-order the new single from The Delays. Because if this isn't the best thing I've heard in a good five years, then I don't know what is. Click on e-card to get a sneaky listen, and I defy you not to dance when you hear this. I don't care if you are at work! This song is so amazingly good, it makes me slightly hysterical! You may have noticed!

Too good to be true?

Hey, remember when this happened when I tried to register with a new GP? This morning I finally got round to registering with a new, new GP. I walked in, asked if I could register, the receptionist smiled (smiled!) at me, said "yes, when can you come in for an appointment with the nurse?", booked me an appointment with the nurse, gave me one (not three) form to fill in, then smiled again and that was it.

I'm still waiting to wake up/fall out of the parallel universe.

Raised on a diet of broken biscuits

I'm on my own in the library (I finally ran out of excuses not to do the Wednesday late). I am on a diet. I will not open these.

I will also not open these -

And I most certainly will not be opening these -

Yep. They are the biscuits we have in our library office. And you thought it was all 'sssh' and no fun, ey?

03/03/06 **BISCUIT UPDATE** After promising myself one of the yummy Cadburys biscuits when they were opened (thinking they would be opened after my diet had finished) I can confirm that I am now eating an Orange Chocolate Crunch. I realise this is breaking my diet, but they were opened yesterday whilst I was off sick, and HALF THE TIN has gone already, half the tin!! I'm on holiday next week, and at this rate they'll have polished them off and eaten the tin no doubt, by the time I am back, so I'm taking my chance now. I can also confirm the biscuit is yummy!

How may points for a ....

So, as nobody likes a fat bride (see below) and more importantly as none of my clothes fit (again) and after astonishingly both losing and putting back on a stone in 18 months, I'm back on the old diet.

Now, when I diet I do it the Weight Watchers way (other ways of losing-and-putting-a-stone-on-in-18-month diets are available). After years of attending WW meetings with my mum, I know the points system inside out. Yes, I know points is very 5 years ago, but the new ways of working things out scare the hell out of me. I am a WW luddite. I am also a human WW reference book. Seriously, ask me the amount of points in an anything, and I know. With the exception of meat & fish I know that points value of everything. Hummus? Why, that would be full fat 1.5pts a tablespoon, 1pt a tablespoon for low-fat. Avacado? Thanks for asking, 3pts for half a medium size avacado (love the precise science!). So far, so good. I lost 4lbs this week. Okay, that's 4lb of the 6lb I put on over christmas, but that's really not the point.

And the best thing about the WW points system? I can hoard my points and 'spend' them on booze! Hooray for being drunk as a skunk whilst on a diet! (That's me on a diet, not the skunk).

And I'm not at all jealous of this lucky little guy. Nope, not even one tiny little bit.

Here comes the bride

So, after ten years of saying over and over and over again how we are "never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER getting married", we're getting married. This has taken most of our family & friends by complete suprise, including those I'd told that we were thinking of it. I must say, more fun than actually deciding to get married or planning the whole thing has been telling people we're getting married.

Ways I have told people we're getting married:
1. Telling my mum and dad (who had no idea what we were planning) in a packed restuarant.
Me: "Guess what we're doing for our anniversary next year?"
My dad: "Getting married"
Me: (in a What? You weren't supposed to guess! voice) "Yes!"
My mum "Eeeeeeeeeee" (and other high pitched excited noises).
My dad: "I said the least likely thing I could think of!"

2. Dropping it casually into the middle of an email about other people's quite frankly crazy wedding planning. They had sent out pre-invite reminders (no, I have no idea what they are either) for their wedding in November 2006, in December 2005 and I just couldn't resist putting "I mean, my and Mr L are getting married in April and we haven't even told anybody yet" into the middle of an email. I got a "What?!!" and a "Sorry?" in reply.

3. Dropping it casually into conversation about dieting
Mrs D "we're eating heathily, but we're not really dieting"
Me "oh, we need to go on a diet, 'cus we're getting married in April, and no-one likes a fat bride"

4. Dropping it casually into a conversation about people visiting us
My bestest friend "And of course, we're visint you Easter weekend"
Me "Well, you could visit us that weekend, or you could come down two weeks later and then you can come to our wedding as well"
My bestest friend "What? Are you getting married for real?"
Me "Yes!"
My bestest friend "Is it real? Is it really real? Really, really, really real?"

5. Breaking the news to my ex-colleagues, who, the whole year I worked with them had to listen to me moan about weddings in general and say how I was "never, ever, ever, ever times a billion" getting married.
Me (after rather a lot of wine, for dutch courage purposes) "Ooh, you can hire this pub for a party. That's good, 'cus I'm on the look-out for a room to hire for our wedding celebrations"
Them "What wedding celebrations?"
Me (covering head for any abuse/punches that might come my way) "We're getting married, don't shout at me!"

Thankfully everyone has been really pleased, and we've had none of the "I told you so"s that we expected. I don't think I'm being a wedding bore (reason to not get married # 567) but if I am, please let me know, I'd hate to be one of those brides who can only talk about the wedding (reason to not get married #245).