Thursday, 28 July 2011

The merchant festival

If you were to ask me what a festival was I would probably reel off some stereotypical rubbish about a muddy field full of thousands of people that like music, lots of portaloos and a bunch of people that rub a face wipe under their arms and then consider themselves to be clean.
Well, Glasgow taught me that that isn't so.
We happened to stumble across a festival whilst we were there last week and there were no muddy fields and everyone seemed quite clean.

For me, the merchant city festival was....
Watching two men throw punches at each other.
A very oddly dressed kid (is he, or is he not wearing pyjamas?!) having a go a weight lifting.
An actual lady weight lifter lifting the same weight as the complete novice kid.
(Said lady weight lifter was wearing red lycra that pulled really tight across her bum when she bent over. She was wearing black underwear. 
Did you want to know that?)
Talented street performers and their unusual interpretations of music.
Coconut macaroons that smelt like heaven.
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Sweets. Mainly fudge.
A kind of flash mob of people wearing lots of bright colours that looked like they were doing the cotton eye Joe, but to Scottish music.
A statue of a man on a horse with a cone on his head.
(I couldn't figure out if it was meant to be there or not.)
Beautiful Glaswegian buildings.
The lunch of champions - smoothies and sandwishes.
Ross' smoothie was called ubbery booberry.
Say that in a Scottish accent and it's the most fun you'll have saying words.

And lots or other things I didn't take photos of.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

I promised the world...

....Well, not exactly the world. 
I promised a catch-up of my weekend in Glasgow, so me professing that 'I promised the world' is a little dramatic, but it feels a little poetic too.
And seeing as I run this here blog, what I say goes.
And again, seeing as I run this blog and I want it to be about the photos as well as the writing, I'm not going to apologise for the photo overload I'm about to force on you.

Monday, 25 July 2011

Lazy song

Normally I'm an up and at'em kind of person.
You know, the annoying kind that once they're awake, they're immediately alert and ready for the day?
Well, I think today that person stayed in bed whilst I dragged myself up and to work today.
Seriously, I've felt tired and sleepy basically all day, right from the moment I woke up.
The fact that it's the first day of the summer holidays, which means I had two kiddos to look after all day, instead of one has not helped.
Plus, it's Monday, which is pretty much everyones least favourite day of the week anyways.
So instead of doing a proper blob, I'ma just show a few pictures from my weekend in Glasgow and catch you up on it properly tomorrow.
See you then?

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

I asked, she answered, I asked some more

Today I sat with my Nannan in the little restaurant in her retirement village.
It was decorated a bit like a Parisian bistro (at least what I imagine a Parisian bistro would look like), 
but for old people.
Work with me here people, I trying to paint a picture.
We sat at a cosy table nestled in the corner, looking out onto someone's bright little flower patch, our heads close to together deep in conversation.
Well, when I say deep in conversation, what I mean is, I asked questions and she answered. 

As a war baby (her, not me...obviously) I already knew that her life story, her memories and experiences were different to mine, but I find it absolutely fascinating.

There are stories from her being a baby and having her head bumped on the air raid shelter during the bombing in Sheffield and people being worried that she was crying so loudly that the German would be able to hear her and know exactly where to bomb. 
Stories from when I was baby generally include projectile vomiting and me not going down at night.

There are stories from her being a child and driving to Scarborough at the weekend with probably about 8 people all in one car, with some sitting on stools that they'd put in the back seat and none of them wearing seat belts. 
Stories from when I was a child generally include me bossing my two younger brothers around and making up dances that I force them to learn and perform.

There are stories of faith during her adult life, when she prays to get a new job and to see her Dad again, and both happen in one miraculous incident and when she sells her house so that she can afford to serve a mission.
Stories from me being an adult generally involve amusing interactions with funny Chinese ladies.

I hope that one day my children and grand children and great grand children find me so interesting.

PS. I also learnt from my Nannan today that one of my relatives was taken to Auschwitz during the war. 
They thankfully survived it, but I think next time I watch The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas I will cry even more than usual.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

34: Check

Done. Check. Completed. Crossed off the list.
I did the first thing of my grand old to do list last week.
I went to see Harry Potter at one minute past midnight on its opening night.

I remember when the final book came out my and my Mom went to queue up in Asda at midnight, so that I could start reading straight away.
I even made her buy two copies, because there was no way that I was going to stop reading it so that she could start. 
(I'm a selfish book reader, so what?)
And then on the way home I made her drive with the in car light on, so that I could start reading it out loud straight away.
I finished reading that last Harry Potter within 24 hours or buying it.
I didn't sleep much and then months later I couldn't actually remember the story that well, but whatever, I had read it.
Practically inhaled it actually.

So when the film came out last week, I had the same reckless enthusiasm for seeing it.
I was even geek enough to have a scar drawn on my forehead for the occassion.
I booked my tickets, 
stood in line, 
admired some people's costumes 
(I'm not brave enough for a eye liner scar drawn on my forehead was about the most daring thing I've ever done), 
bought pick and mix, 
wished that the trailers would hurry up, 
whooped when Ron & Hermione kissed, 
cried when Fred died, 
clapped when the film finished, 
waited for all of the credits to roll in case there was a little secret bit to play at the end (there wasn't) 
and then talked about it all for an hour after as we made our way home.

And I would pretty much say that the entirety of the effort was completely worth it.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

Thank yous

Thank you to a pretty sweet first year of marriage. 
Don't worry, I'm not going to get all gushy, but basically its been a year of wishes, extreme joy and even more extreme love.
It's been a very happy year for us both.

Thank you for the lessons that I've learnt over this year.
Ross has learnt that if he restrains me (he can hold both my wrists with one hand and tickle me with the other) I will pretty instantly be full of rage.
I have learnt not to pretend to be moody, because pretty quickly my pretending turns into me being genuinely moody, and that's no fun for either of us.

Thank you to Preston Temple.
You are beautiful and so peaceful.

Thank you to chimichangas.
I tried you for the first time yesterday and you will now be more than welcome in my life.

Thank you to Harry Potter.
I grew up with your books and films and now that the very last film has come out, I feel like a chapter of my life has come to an end and I'm ready to be more grown up now.
(Also, the last film was saweet.)

Thank you to the rain. 
Most people are expecting summer right now and that means blue skies, the sun and warm temperatures.
But we're England, so it's raining.
But I love the summer rain.

Warm and fresh smelling.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Imagine an accent: Take 2

I think there must be something inside of me that draws Chinese people to me.
Like a magnet or something.
That, or I have 'if you are Chinese please come and talk to me and say something funny to me' tattooed on my forehead.

So, I'm paying for all of the stuff that had crept into my basket in Boots and I look over at the Dior counter, where there's a Chinese sales assistant stood staring at me.
I didn't stare back, because that would have been awkward, but as I'm putting my purse back in my bag and getting ready to leave, I look up and happen to make eye contact with said sales assistant.
Next thing I know, the Chinese Dior lady runs over to me (literally runs) and says to me.... 
"I just have to tell you that you have beautiful lips." 
Then she runs back over to her counter before I even have chance to say thank you.
In hindsight, I think that she must have meant that red lipstick suits me (which is what I was wearing today...obviously), because no-one has ever commented on my actual lips before.
And more than the fact that no-one has ever commented on/complimented my lips before, no-one has ever run towards me, offered up the compliment and then run away again.
Not that I'm complaining.
I think I want to make friends with a Chinese person.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011


Yes, I am wearing my pretentious pants today and using French words in my regular everyday speech. 
C'est bon, non?

Today I'm hatin' on....
Aching feet,
whiney toddlers,
a slight altercation with the car
and strawberry juice on my white top.

It's not all bad though.
Today I'm loving...
coming home to the smell of jacket potatoes in the oven, 
affectionate toddlers, 
helium balloons
and Harry Potter. Tomorrow. Midnight. BOOM.

Monday, 11 July 2011

L for Love (and Lincoln)

If anyone was to ask me where I would love to visit, and they mean anywhere, I would probably say somewhere like Mexico, or Brazil, or Paris or Venice.
Basically, I'm pretty certain that I would not say anywhere in England.
Probably not even anywhere in the UK.
And I was thinking about that fact the other day, and I realised just how ridiculous that was.
England is awesome.
Sure, it rains a lot, but that's why it's so lusciously green everywhere. 
To say that I've lived on this little island all my life, there's a lot of England that I've never been to.
Big cities, small villages and all the green in between.
So I'm going to show England a little bit more love, because blimey, this little country I call home is spiffing.
(I felt that seeing as I getting all patriotic up in here, I needed to throw in a couple of very English words.)

So, I went to Lincoln a few weekends ago.
I'd never been before, so I jumped on the idea as soon as it was mentioned
And honestly, it's beautiful.
The cathedral. Wow.
I'm pretty sure they filmed some of the Harry Potter films there and you can see it from twenty five miles away. (So I'm told.)
There are also lots of hills, some cobbled streets and one of those places were you put you feet in a tank and the fish nibble your feet. (That was another first for the weekend.)
There were people giving out free hugs, some randomers on stilts and more randomers dressed as snails, fruit stalls that were selling two melons for 60p and an awesome vintage shop...amongst other things.
Really, apart from my brief sulk when Ross put ketchup all over our chips (not a fan by the way) it was a lovely, lovely day.

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