Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Calico Cat

Every month, something REALLY exciting happens. It starts with a ring on the doorbell where I'll find my lovely postie standing with a large brown box in his hands.

If I can make it down the hallway without ripping the tape from it's sides in order to spill its luscious contents, by the time I reach the kitchen table , I'm already gasping with delight at the prospect of revealing what lies inside.

Yes its D for delivery Day for my monthly Studio Calico kit.

By the time I've carefully eased the pretty sticker that seals the brown paper bag and stroked each and every piece of paper, I usually find there's an interloper on the scene. His name is Jack and he knows he's in for a treat. I swear he can smell that box a mile away . I'm convinced the lovely packers at Studio Calico must slip in some catnip on the sly.

We've tried a number of comfy, plushy, squishy, furry, padded, quilted cat bed things but to no avail. He knows his place. Not for him the luxury of designer comfort. He prefers the solid, honest, integrity of a brown cardboard box. But I must credit him with great taste . If you're going to curl up for a nap , you might as well surround yourself with the beauty of a Studio Calico kit.

Way to go Jack.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

This cake contains ....

... 1 large bar of the finest 70% cocoa solids chocolate, 2 Crunchies, 1 large box of Maltesers, 1 large bag of mini marshmallows, unsalted butter, golden caster sugar, golden syrup, 1 packet of crushed biscuits , 1 large pack of M & M's , 12 candles and about 5 squillion calories.

We'll be injecting it into our arteries after we've polished off a burger and fries at Byron's Burgers, washed down with a vanilla milkshake for youngest son's 12th birthday tonight.

If I'm not back by midnight, call an ambulance.

Happy Birthday Son !

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Been Busy

Bought one of those printers trays from 7 Gypsies and I've filled it with loveliness for Max's 12th birthday this week. Rather pleased with how its turned out. There's a message for him in the envelope in the top right corner. It was great fun picking through my stash and finding just the right bits and bobs to fit the spaces. Love these trays.

Sunday, 3 July 2011

What the hell are weekends all about ?

You read stories in the weekend sections of the broadsheets , you know the sort , "My ideal weekend' . They always begin with exquisite breakfasts comprising freshly percolated coffee accompanied by pastries from their local artisan bakery and usually end with al fresco dining washed down with a few bottles of Rioja.

Mine are never going to live up to those standards. For a start , I'm usually on Mum's taxi duty, so Fridays are alcohol deprived. By Saturday I'm usually dealing with a couple of sleep deprived, hormonally stroppy teens. The situation normally deteriorates by the early evening because DH has spent the bulk of the day achieving nothing , rounded off by some inane TV sports marathon.

Saturday is my binge drinking opportunity and I make a point of maxing out on cheap plonk. Sunday rolls around all too quickly, beginning with a dehydrated hangover and is usually peppered with family duty visits, homework which usually includes the tail end of some hideous project on which we're usually 3 weeks behind schedule and a couple of sports bags full of stinky, sweaty trainers and T shirts.

There's usually the arbitrary row about how dull our lives have become and a spot of self flagellation about the number of unticked tasks on the To Do list.

Meanwhile the rest of the world appear to be having happy, cheerful, sun kissed family meals al fresco or a spot of pampering at the local spa, rounded off with cocktails or some such with wildly witty mates.

Maybe the grass is always greener. One of these days, I hope to find myself in their shoes. If only.