Not that I spend the vast majority of my life procrastinating over those deadlines or anything, but 2 days ago I discovered the art of swearing via the medium of the emoji.
It made my fecking week.
But when I sent some of them to my friends, they couldn’t get them. I thought they were pretty obvious but I got a bunch of messages back saying ‘chicken mouse?’ and ‘horse hat?’ and on one particular instance ‘who the hell is this? Never contact me again!’.
So I thought I’d see how well you lot did with them.
1. 2. 3.4.
5. 6. 22.214.171.124.
We’d been away for a few days to a lovely hotel in Norfolk. The four and a half hour journey there had taken seven and a half hours and included a call to the AA and a £120 repair bill for some bit in my engine. The bit that caused the fault in the expensive doodad, a spark plug I was cheerfully informed by the AA man, only costs £4 to replace.
We had a lovely few days but I wasn’t looking forward to the drive back. I wasn’t sure I could afford it, quite frankly. But we made it back unscathed and even managed to pick up some shopping and remember to collect the dog on the way past.
We were home. The kids were faffing in the car, I opened the front door to the overwhelming stench of gas.
Yelling at the kids to stay in the car and repeating ‘don’t turn on any lights, don’t turn on any lights’ to myself under my breath I walked through the house. The smell got stronger and stronger until I got to the kitchen. Where the gas was freely whizzing out of the unlit hob, the cat sat on the counter next to it, meowing, looking rather pleased with himself.
Leave me alone for 2 days will you? He seemed to be saying. Well, I’ll just blow your bloody house up then!
God only knows how he’d managed to do it but somehow he’d managed to turn one of the switches for the hob on. Shouldn’t they have a safety aspect to them? Christ.
Thankfully, after turning it off and having all the doors and windows open for about 5 hours, the smell and the gas left without incident and we are all still standing. Freezing, cause the house still hasn’t warmed up from having all the doors and windows open for 5 hours and after having gas whizzing out of my hob for God knows how long, I’m not sure I can afford to put the heating on again until March, but alive nonetheless.
Bastard fucking cat.
I’m human so obviously I love cake. I’m British so obviously I enjoy a hot beverage or two. so when someones says ‘Hey, Heather. Fancy trying some of our lovely cakes? We’ll even send you a couple of new mugs and some tea so you can enjoy them with a brew’ the only obvious answer is ‘Hell yes!’
So cakes. Kate’s Cakes in fact. Boxes of yummy cake slices all individually wrapped so they won’t go stale (ha ha ha. Yeah, cause that was going to be an issue). I have to say I was mightily impressed. They were delicious – soft and tasty and just perfect with a cuppa. But they also look great – not something most individually wrapped cakes can brag about, let’s face it.
The chocolate fudge cake and the lemon drizzle cake look so good that you could totally pass them off as slices of home-made cake. Not that I would ever do such a thing. Nope, not me. Ahem.
And the most super bit is that Kate’s Cakes are just £1.99 per box of five from Tesco. So cheap it would be almost rude not to pass them off as home-baked the next time you’ve got guests coming round. Just saying.
My goodness, these children grow too fast. It seems like barely a week goes by without one of them growing out of something. And the older they get, the more difficult it is to find clothes that fit their skinny waists and long legs that are appropriate for their age range.
Especially for my daughter who in age 9 clothes seems to have crossed the divide from child to tween in most clothing stores meaning a lot of the clothing is highly inappropriate for an 8 year old. Well, to be honest they’re highly inappropriate for anyone considered a tween in my opinion but that could be just me getting old. However, you can never go wrong with Clarks.
Makers of lovely shoes that last long enough for them to grow out of – something of a rarity in shoes manufacturers these days – and that aren’t all towering high heels for size 1 kids’ shoes.
I had to take the girl for a shoe fitting last week after she grew out of every single pair of shoes she owns and we came home with these beauties.
The Daisy Elf boot in black for £48. A beautiful pair of suede and leather boots that has a secret compartment in the bottom of each insole complete with itty bitty doll to carry around with you.
These compartments came into their own at the Camping and Caravan show at the NEC a few days later proving to be a very handy place to store my phone number should she get lost. A friend of mine puts her daughters tuck money in hers at school – secret compartments are always handy.
Clarks were, as ever, ace. Brilliant fitting, friendly service and a great selection of shoes and boots to choose from. And the girl is thrilled with her new secret spy shoes.
A good friend of mine is moving house, which is one of my favourite things. I love looking at houses for sale but really can’t be doing the hassle of removal men and having to pack up all your junk only to realise when you get it to the new house that it really is junk and then chuck it out.
That and trying to settle kids in a new house and deal with post and changes to all your important documents and stuff. Bah.
But having a friend who seems to have become an expert on selling a house fast in the Leasowe area – complete with all those baking-bread-in-the-oven and having-fresh-hanging-baskets-outside type tips they tell you on those moving house programs – I’ve had the brilliant pleasure of browsing properties to send to her.
Properties like these beauties. Seriously, could you live in a house like this?
The Purple House
Where not only is every single room in the house purple…
But they appear to have a dining room in the bedroom. Or a bed in the dining room…
And they have carpeted not just the bath tub, but their sink as well.
The House of Chintz
I’d only want to live here if they were going to leave all of their chintz though…
Higgeldy Piggeldy Stairs
Imagine climbing these drunk. Brilliant
And come on now, who wouldn’t want to go and view this house?
Although my friend and her husband seem to have done quite well in selling their house pretty fast – they used a company called Wirral Property Solutions – they are still on the hunt for their dream home. Apparently none of the ones I sent were suitable. Personally I think they are being way too fussy and the purple house of doom is just perfect for them. I’d totally go with them to check out the last one.
I told her this. She said lots of rude words. So it looks like the hunt is still on.