Hey my lovelies,
Just wanted to pop in and say hello.
Long time no blogging, eh… I blame my husband. He rudely gave me a bug a few weeks ago (note to Husband, I prefer presents, expensive presents) and I just can’t bounce back.
Oh yes, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? You know the drill: rest, rest, rest, go slightly crazy, eat Green and Black’s, drink wine, rest some more, find my inner Tigger, bounce back. Easy!
Tigger and I will see you soon…
Lots of Easter love to you all.
Karen
Xx
English: Bad Luck Marbles sent to Langkawi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It was a tough few months, the CFS crash between April and August of this year, the days stuck at home plastered to the sofa. But I survived – just – and I was ready to enjoy my reward: normal life. I got over excited about being reunited with my trainers and enthusiastically jumped around the lounge, happy to hear Jillian Michaels shout at me; I started filling my diary with lunches, meals out, trips to the theatre, and weekends away; I reunited with my writing plans, determinedly working out my route from Blogger to Grazia. Continue reading
English: The outside of oxford street london store of Topshop, the major fashion retailer. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Despite my fear that one day soon, alarms will sound off as I enter Topshop, and a voice over a loud Tannoy will shout, ‘you are too old to shop here, please leave the store immediately,’ it is still on my shopping hit list. And I was in one of their changing rooms the other day, and I have to say, it was a fairly pleasant experience. I say fairly, because I’m not sure any of us take great pleasure from a close-up, full-length view of ourselves (especially when you take your jeans off and have that sexy sock and underwear look going on). But the lighting wasn’t too harsh and everything looked, well, okay.
Fast forward ten minutes, to the Marks and Spencer’s changing room, and there was nothing pleasant about the experience. The lighting was so bright Continue reading
Slanket (Photo credit: tim7423)
I remember when I first got married, a friend bought me a book about how to be a good wife. She was being cheeky: it was a well-known fact that my potential wife skills were non-existent. As a single gal, my swanky apartment had a beautiful Smeg oven that still looked brand new; I had a cleaner, as my time was spent focussing on my career or MBA (too busy to clean, darling).
There was no expectation that once I became a wife, I would suddenly turn into a domestic-muffin-making-goddess, least of all from my husband. Continue reading
Stella Vine. Holy water cannot help you now, a painting of Kate Moss. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
‘Oh, I’m so boring these days…’ seems to be a confession that is shared by many a friend. And although I hate to admit it, I fear I am boring too (I know, you’re struggling to imagine this).
These confessions are invariably volunteered as we reminisce about our wild and crazy youth. (Yes, we are now of an age where we reminisce.) There was a stage in my life in my late twenties when ‘partying’ was an important and regular part of socialising. I was single, and had a group of single friends always up for a good night out – or as we would say, single and ready to mingle!
Saturday night was the big night and involved getting glammed up: high heels, Continue reading
