And I always said I'd never ditch my friends for boys...

Okay, so I'm TOTALLY aware that I've failed to write anything for nearly two weeks. I understand this is rubbish and I apologise. The reason? I've been out with a boy twice and I'm too busy being all excited about it to do anything else.

Obviously, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, as work has been really very busy, my grandmother has gone into hospital (something of a worry) and I've been enjoying the amazing sunshine we've been having in London. However, today is once again grey, and it feels more like a business-as-usual sort of time - I even managed to go to my exercise class tonight instead of pretending I've forgotten.

So - back to the boy thing (as it's much more interesting than my job, or my grandma's sudden losing of the plot). I've known this particular gentleman for a number of years, he's a friend of a friend, and we've always enjoyed a little harmless flirtation. Well, folks, the week before last he finally asked me out. And we went out again this week. I'm annoying myself by being in that whole 'when will he CALL? / how long shall I leave it before I text him / phone: ring, ring, RING GODDAMNIT' phase. I wish I could be cool about it all (and I really hope that on the OUTSIDE I'm managing it, but on the inside I'm hopping around like a rabbit who's had too much coffee.

I think when you've been treated by boys badly in the past (and I really do think this would be my Mastermind Special Subject), it makes you doubly scared of it happening again, and I'm sure that's why I've spent a considerable of time over the last fortnight feeling like a bag of nerves. I kind of EXPECT the worst to happen, and EXPECT to be stood up/lied to and end up feeling surprised when it all turns out okay. This is not a good place to be, people!

Anyway, to give Mr H. credit, he wasn't any of those bad things, and was an awful lot of good ones that I won't bore you with. Did I mention that I really like him? As in really, really like him? And he's definitely been my happy thing for the last week and a half. Keep your fingers crossed for me that this one works out...

Shoepershoe Challenge #7 - I refuse to let my shoes die

Sometimes it's just not possible to say goodbye to a pair of shoes, however much they try to tell you otherwise. This particular pair of boots seem to have a dodgy heel, as on the outing previous to this, the heel one one of them broke through the middle for the second time. The breaking incident (both times) has happened when I'm mid journey, so I'm forced to hobble along with on foot on tiptoe so not to damage the broken heel. Attractive - and a challenge walking with wonky legs.

Anyway, a bit of superglue, and my shoe doctoring skills seem to have done the trick. They look so good with my ubiquitous costume of dress, belt and cardigan!!   

Shoepershoe challenge #6 - another little pair of pumps

Yikes, it's been a while since I managed to post a shoe challenge - lucky I managed to have a few photos to upload! These are  pair of Office pumps with a slightly wedged heel - useful for those days when flats are good but heels are too much. I didn't take a close up as the heels are a bit muddy, and I don't want to be accused ot failing to look after my shoes.

It does look like the majority of my fashion choices are dresses with belts - I must diversify!!

Happy things: Sunshine, earthworks and old stones

I've had a lovely time enjoying the sunshine over the last few days. It does make a HUGE difference when the sky is blue and it finally feels warm enough not to wear a coat.

I spent the weekend with my friend Tigs and we went off to Avebury to enjoy the archeology and more importantly, my discount in the National Trust tearoom. So good. Avebury is the biggest stone circle in Europe (or something like that) and being a graduate of history and archaeology, it's somewhere that I have ALWAYS wanted to go. And it did live up to expectations. Here's a picture of the ditch around the edge in the sunshine. Big.

Being fairly unskilled with a camera, I didn't get a good close up of the circle itself, but I did get a snap of the lichen on the stones.  

Amazing to think that the same stones have been there for about 5000 years. Amazing.

I could spend several hours waxing lyrical about the joys of a good earthwork, but I suspect I have lost you. Don't worry though, I have some shoe pictures for shoe challenges so I will eneavour to find some time to upload them.

The traumatic day of Tilly the cat

Tilly the cat is a rather small, black moggy who lives at home with my parents. Her favourite pastimes include cuddling my Dad, catching squirrels and trying to escape into the wider corners of the family home. This is what happened to her over the last few days.

My parents went away for the weekend to visit my little sister and a usual, one of our neighbours popped in a couple of times a day to feed her. When my parents returned from the said trip on Monday, they were informed that the cat food had not been eaten and that Tilly hadn’t been about.

Being a nosy sort of cat and a complete opportunist, over the winter Tilly had made friends with some people down the road who had been feeding her and thought she was a stray. As with any sensible creature who is given a free meal, she kept going back (and we WONDERED why she had put on weight).

Over the weekend, the couple decided to ask about her and spoke to a good family friend of ours if they knew anyone with a small, black cat. After being told ‘no, we can’t think of anyone’ (grrr – when they have seen Tilly, like, 1000,000 times), she was promptly captured and whisked off to the local RSPCA.

On arrival at the RSPCA, Tilly was identified as being 18 months old and pregnant. Now the story takes a dramatic turn for the worse, as Tilly was spayed after she had kittens. In 1998. Yesterday then saw her being operated on for no reason, as she has no lady bits which need disposing of, whilst my Mum frantically phoned the RSPCA and then the vet, trying to find out where she was.

After a series of incredibly unhelpful conversations in which my Mum was berated for not putting her in a cattery whilst they were away and told she’d need to pay £50 for the operation poor Tilly didn’t need (cat held hostage in Kidderminster – who’d have thought it??), Mum finally managed to recover a very sad and sleepy Tilly from the vet and bring her home. Oh, and the people who had ‘adopted’ her had named her Alice. That’s almost worse!!

Shoeper shoe chllenge # 5 - boots

I'm pleased to have saved my first pair of boots for the challenge, before it beomes too spring-y and they get relegated to the shoe boxes for the summer months. I think these are a Dune pair and this was their first outing in a while. I think that their outing before this one constituted a mad dash with my sister across the West End of London as we were running rather late for the performance of the Lion King musical that we were due to be attending. When I say 'mad dash', what I really mean is that my sister sprinted ahead whilst I hopped across the cobbles of Covent Garden in persuit and though 'never again'. It was her fault for wanting to buy Percy Pigs from M&S. Needless to say we made it, and I limped for the rest of the day. I have never mastered the art of running in heels!!  

The week in which I give up things for Lent

Argh, it's been such a crazy couple of weeks, I've completely neglected the whole blogging thing. I haven't had time to think about which shoes I'm going to wear, look for happy things or even do anything stupid, which is a novel occurrance in itself. The last week has been all about the work and not very much else.

The highlight of the week though HAS to be my Dad's 60th birthday party. It was an excellent excuse to drink, eat cheese, catch up with family and drink some more. We had a fantastic get together with my aunties, uncles, cousins and some family friends. I got a leetle bit tiddly. I blame my Dad and his super strength gin and tonics. Normally I can drink a few buckets of gin and not feel a thing, but as soon as the old boy is let loose with the Gordons, I'm feeling distinctly squiffy. Very odd.

By far the most impressive thing about the whole occasion was that I got through the weekend without eating any cake. In my crazyness last week, I decided to give up cake, chocolate, biscuits and bread. The reason for all this self denial? I am going to look DAMN good in shorts come the summer. That's pretty much it, to be honest. And I do like to set myself a small challenge to see if I can manage it. Of course, I am going to have to do a bit of exercise to supplement the craziness, which I am going to make plans to do tomorrow...or the day after...or SOON. Please note: I am not giving up the important things like cheese or pasta or alcohol. That would just be silly!

One week into my crazy Lent give-up-fest, and there are two noticable differences. One is that my spots have disappeared. I am one of the unfortunate people in the world who suffers on and off with adult acne and it utterly sucks. Recently it's been worse than it has in a while and I hate it. I'm 31. My skin should have learned how to stop behaving like a teenager, even if the rest of my hasn't caught up yet. Anyway, it's improved dramatically, and let's hope it stays that way. The second difference is that I seem to have lost the ability to string together coherent sentences - I was stuttering like a complete fool today - something that usually only happens when I'm tired or when I'm agitated or excited. But nope, my brain-voice coordination has completely failed. I'm trying to decide if it's better to be spotty but be able to hold an intelligent conversation, or clear skinned and a blathering wreck. If any readers are able to offer an opinion, I'd be most grateful!