Birthdays, Blythes and Breathing Difficulties (!)

Yep, it was my birthday this week.  I reached the grand old age of 28 and spent the weekend mourning the loss of my youth! As my family live relatively (in terms of time and money for me) far away, I took the opportunity to visit them for the day. I don’t see them as much as I should, to be honest. But that’s life, and maybe one day some things will change.

Here’s a photo of me and my Dad. I only have about three photos of us together from the past 15 years. I can’t see that much of a family resemblance (thank God, lol!).

I also managed to get a photo or to of the runaground boat off the Fylde coast. You can learn all about it news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/lancashire/7229956.stm>here; try not to read the company name as Seastuck like I do every time!

I forgot to take some of my mum when I saw her later; I must remember next time. Mum took us out for a nice meal to celebrate my birthday, apart from the mortal embarrassment that she caused me when she went to the toilet. She’d flicked her paper napkin into the candle without realising (read ‘paying attention to her surroundings’) and it set alight. No-one noticed for a good thirty seconds and then I grabbed it and had to throw a perfectly good pint of lager on it to stem the flames. Needless to say, everyone stared at us and I wished the ground could swallow me up!Embarrassments aside, birthdays = pressies, woot! Here’s my little haul. Lots of cards is one of the benefits of having a divorced family

That mug tree thingy is an Easter tree from my Mum (you hang those eggs on it, which unfortunately are not edible), which is strangely kitsch and I like it a lot. I also got a couple of craft books. On the recommendation of several of you, I decided to go with the Reader’s Digest sewing book. I did consider the Dorling Kindersley one, but it reminded me of school to much, and TBH I didn’t like school all that much. I also got a cool crochet book, which got slated on AmazonUK for being in American-English, but this suits me as I learned to crochet out of The Happy Hooker. There’s also a copy of Vogue Knitting on its way to me I was also spoilt financially and got some lovely money of the paper variety, which I spent on tickets to see Paul Weller in May and for a semi-final match of the Darts World Championship in June. YAY!!!! Both are in Blackpool, so perhaps I could take advantage of the ready-made opportunity to get some more photos? Oh, and the eagle eyed amongst you may have noticed a new addition, amongst the detritus, to my expanding plastic family. Yup, lovely Johnny treated me to a Mrs Retro Mamma.

So, without further ado, let me introduce you to Gwendolina Custardina! She’s a little nervous here are this is a pre-op photo, and she’s had to don her surgical gown and slippers.

Why? Her hair! It’s like a matted brillo pad that’s been used several times over! Here’s the site of the surgical intervention. We attempted to disconnect the intermingled follicles and introduce heightened verticality (i.e. wash her hair in fabric softener and comb straight).

And here she is mid-op.

And how is the patient now, I hear you cry? Well it was touch and go. There were some hairy (arf!) moments, not least when I had to pour a kettle of boiled water over it to make it all lie flat. But here she is now, and as we haven’t the time for a real photoshoot, this one taken using my laptop will have to suffice. As silky as a silkworm covered in silk!

And the breathlessness. Yeah, had another asthma attack when I went running. It wasn’t major, but I’ve been generally short of breath so decided to go to the doctors. Now on a course of steroids, whose list of attractive side-effects include stomach ulcers with bleeding or perforation; wasting of the upper arm and leg muscles; thinning of the skin; hormonal imbalance; foetal abnormalities; and glaucoma. I assume that such symptoms will not occur from a five day course, but it was rather kind of the drug company to let me know! So reassuring

Remembering our soldiers

The Art Fund is launching a campaign to persuade the Royal Mail to honour our war dead through a series of stamps.

Now, politics aside regarding the rights and wrongs of the Iraq War, nearly 200 young men and women from the UK have died in this conflict. They did not engineer this war. They did not choose this war. But they gave their life to serve this country, and should be honoured, rather than their memory conflated with the political controversies that surround it.

If you would like to sign the petition, the link is here:

www.artfund.org/queenandcountry/index.php

My hair in someone else’s hands

For the past ten years, the same person has cut and coloured my hair.  I am protective about my hair.  Indeed for the first six months of living in Leeds, I’ve still trekked back to Sheffield to have my barnet dealt with, which is no mean feat when public transport takes around 4 hours.   At present and for the foreseeable, however, I simply don’t have 4 hours to while away on a trundling train going through the less salubrious parts of South Yorkshire (of which there are many).  So, the time has come to take the plunge, move onto pastures new, as a change is as good as a rest (insert your own cliches, ad naseum).  I have found somewhere in Leeds that looks pretty good; it has won salon of the year a couple of times, so who am I to argue with the voting public.  It’s pretty pricey, so I’m having my hair cut with a junior, erk!  I’m sure it ill be okay; what on earth could go wrong with a pair of scissors and a bottle of peroxide?