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Friday Blog Theme: Fantasy Dinner Party

So I have thought about this long and hard. Again, this is a theme from Fat Fighters. They have kick-started my blogging mojo again.

The venue of course would be a beautiful apartment (mine of course) on the Ave. Montaigne in Paris. I would of course be wearing a casually chic Agnes B number.

Dinner would be served by my staff, I would simply waft in on a cloud of White Gardenia Petals. (I may be also wearing my fluffy slippers but lets not ruin the vision).

Guests:

Tom Selleck– not as Magnum, but as Jack in 3 Men and a… or Richard in Friends…. Finally he’d realise that I was his real destiny…

Jose Mourinho – yes he’s arrogant, but god what a man. Of course I’d really just want him to talk about being the ‘special one’ and agree to come and coach England.

Dawn French – I just love her. She makes me die. I love everything she has done. She is also my girl crush.

Eva Peron – I’d love to know the truth. I adore the story, soundtrack. I’d like to hear her story.

Nigel Barker – Film star good looks, height, sigh….. He’d also take great pics of the evening.

Billy Connolly – No-one tells a story like Billy.

Wow. I’m really excited about it now…. Although, I bet I wake up in the night with may more impressive and intellectual guests that I should have listed…anyway, off to microwave my ‘Fuller Longer’ dinner for 1…. *sighs*

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Working girl

I was reading through my back catalogue of blog posts, and came across a post entitled New Girl which I wrote just over a year ago, a day or so before I began my current job.

It made me think of how I view that job and my life now.  I was apprehensive about the new job, in a much bigger firm, and the juggling of home life around this full-time post.

Well 14 months on, I can tell you how that panned out…

The balancing is sometimes hard, but due to having an understanding boss (hopefully he won’t read this) it’s very rare that the job really prevents me from being there for the girls when I need to be. Admittedly, since my younger DD has started senior school it has been a lot less stressful.  That extra step makes it a lot easier.

I experience the things that all full-time working mums do. Weekends that have to revolve around food shopping, chores and laundry, while trying to ‘do stuff’ with the kids. Busy weekday evenings, where you never seem to sit down until 9pm. And manic mornings with school runs vs breakfast/early meetings.

I had/have a lot to learn in my new role.  It took a bit of time to settle and not find everything confusing.  But I learned more in my first 6 months than I had in 3 years at my last job within the same field.

I have added value, I work with some great people (and some tricky ones) and rarely dread going to work.

I don’t regret it, enjoy it a lot. Any downsides are ones that would be replicated at most other jobs too, so I can’t complain. But it truly feels like I have been there 2 years+ instead of the 14 months it has been. Is that good or bad?

My ten guilty pleasures

I probably have a lot more than ten, but these are the only ones I am prepared to share with you.

  1. Big pants. There. I’ve said it. Big high pants. Cosy, tummy flatteners and actually, I did read somewhere that some sexy actress always wore them… maybe I am not alone. (and when I say Big I mean the shape, they are still pretty colours and fabrics, they are not grey with failed elastic.)
  2. Tweeting while I am in the bath drinking tea.
  3. Casualty. Not the place, the programme. I love it. I have even recorded it. I can’t watch the staged accident happen and cover my face, but its a Saturday night staple for me.  Even with Charlie walking round with that confused look on his face all the bloody time.
  4. Phil Collins/Genesis – yes I know. *hangs head in shame* But I like about eight of his songs.  While we are on the embarrassing music vibe, I also like a bloody good sing-a-long to Barry Manilow.  
  5. I have also bought clothes from Supermarkets – and worn them, to death.  I have just purchased the Gok Wan at TU jacket thing.
  6. Candles. I am a bit obsessed with good candles. Smelly, but not sickly, I have my christmas stash already growing in a cupboard and I almost ALWAYS buy one when I go to TKMax. I hate to think how much I have spent on candles and then burnt them. You won’t believe how cheated I feel if they turn out crap too.
  7. I have tried to avoid food until now (being on a diet) but I do love taramasalata and ham sandwiches. I have also been known to eat taramasalata and marmite. And I was not pregnant.
  8. I am a closet reader of both Piers Morgan and Liz Jones’ diaries. Not only are these both in the Mail on Sunday, but I actively seek them out. I don’t know whats wrong with me before you ask.
  9. Also I enjoy OK magazine. I am that trashy. I have just grown out of Heat though. Sadly I have greatly enjoyed reading my mum’s Woman and Home now ….
  10. Mrs Doubtfire – I just cannot watch this film enough. I am never ever bored of it.

My Death Row Supper

Post Image I’ve been on weight watchers, or fat-fighters, as I like to call them, for three weeks. It’s going well.. so far. Today they have a  ‘Friday Theme Blog’ idea: ‘What would be your Death Row Supper?’  What a great idea! (the blog, not putting me on death row). I have replicated mine here.

Firstly, I wonder how much time I would have in custody deciding on this meal? This decision could keep me occupied for months! And obviously I would look amazing – something like the picture, is what I have in mind (although, god knows who all those people are…)

This did indeed take me ages and I have thrown out all kinds of favourites… but I finally decided on the following gut-busting, button popping, glutton-fest of a menu…
Pre-Dinner Drinks: Raoul’s (cocktail bar in Oxford) Bloody Mary with Black Pepper vodka, followed by a huge G&T with Hendrick’s Gin.

Starter: Foie Gras (I will be dead soon so won’t feel the guilt) with Melba toast and washed down with a fruity Merlot.

Main: Roast Rib of beef with claret and anchovy gravy, yorkshire puds, and rumbeldethumps and some white pudding. Washed down with a full-bodied Claret.

Dessert: Lemon tart with a chocolate fondant on the side. Sauternes to wash down.

Cheeseboard: Crusty warm bread, brie (so runny its like a pancake), Hartington Blue, Roquefort and a sweaty cheddar. With Grapes (hey, I used to be on WW).  I’d drink Zinfandel with this.

To finish: Cappuccino with a couple of big mouthfuls of handmade chocolate truffles and fudge.

For the road to ‘heaven’: A huge glass of Brandy.

What would yours be?  *goes back to my tuna salad and reality*.

So then I accepted a diet challenge…

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Anyone who knows me, knows I cannot stick at diets.  My previous two attempts have resulted in a 7lb loss and then me getting disillusioned and then drunk.

I crashed onto the bathroom scales on Monday morning, and was shocked to see I was the heaviest I had been (excluding pregnancy) ever (give or take 5lbs).  I had also been feeling (and looking) bloated, chosing clothes was a nightmare as everything doesn’t quite fit properly and looks different on as its stretched around a lardier physique.

So, seizing  the opportunity of feeling disgusted with myself, I re-joined Weightwatchers online and set off on another diet.  I also saw a nifty challenge called ‘Loose 2st by Christmas’.   Never one to normally engage in any ‘target’ motivators, this one hit the mark,  I would have a deadline and something to achieve.  I joined this challenge a bit after their beginning, but the aim was 2lb per week, which would put me on track for a 1.5 stone loss by 19th December! Imagine that! My target loss and looking like a foxy minx with the mince pies and mulled wine!

So I’m doing it, and I pray to Rosemary Connolly that I stick to it this time.  I am on day three and I already feel really good, less bloated and the WW plan is easy to track online and the ProPoints thingy they do means you can have a treat on a weekly basis.  A glass of wine is only 2 points (I think a G&T with slimline is only 1!) but I am definitely not drinking in the week and am toying with the idea of 11 weeks off the booze until Christmas as well….

I know! I’ve changed!

I wish me every success in my endeavour to become less of a woman 😉

Jurys Out on Jury’s Inn

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I am so going to rant on Trip Advisor this time. Just like ranty man’s review I read last week of this very hotel. Jury’s Inn in Plymouth.

I knew before I arrived that the parking situation was less than ideal. I had chosen to ‘temper’ the ranty reviews of this as being a bit OTT. They weren’t.

It’s a dingy car park, under Mecca Bingo. That should describe it well. It’s under the hotel too. Is there any direction to hotel residents? No. None. It’s rubbish.

It’s £10 per day parking. Oh, the night before you check out you can get a voucher for £6 instead of £10. wow.

So you have to walk 10-15 mins to update your parking everyday. (no helpful access to the hotel from car park.)

Checked in and the professionally unhelpful receptionist was just that. Didn’t offer newspaper option, credit card information (to enable tabs at bar, restaurant or room service) or anything that could be helpful.

Lifts – they can only be operated by keycard, one button at a time, and regularly go up and down the floors at random, it took 10 mins to go 5 floors, on more than one occasion.

Three of us in our room, one towel. Three small, rock hard pillows. We called for more and were told ‘as we are full we don’t really have enough’… ‘if we can find some we’ll bring them.’

First morning, our room door was opened and banged shut by cleaner before 8am!

Can I just say, I hate this £100 per night hotel? When I get home I am so getting Ranty on TripAdvisor.

I won’t be staying at Jury’s Inn again either. I tweeted them and nada. They make Premier Inn experience like Four Seasons.

*rant over* (for now)

Bad things about bad backs

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Well its now been over two weeks since I innocently bent over to pick up a towel, getting out of the shower, and felt the disastrous ‘ping’ in my lower back. Within 20 minutes I was in full spasm and unable to do much but crawl to try to dress myself.  I was due to be at work, but after an agonising 50 minutes of getting myself dressed I realised that this was one of those ‘bad episodes’ and hard-core pain-killers and anti-inflams were going to be the most I would be able to manage.

My OH was out of the country, girls on holiday with their father, parents zooming around Scotland on their Goldwing and I had a 12 stone dog trying to comfort me by trying to lay on me, as my crawling around was most fun to him.

Called Lady P, assured her that I was in fact dressed and not crawling around naked, so she agreed to come see me.  By this time I had over-reacted on the Naproxen and Tramadol dosage (well, it had taken half an hour to get them and to stand up so I made th most of it.) and by the time she arrived, I was ‘drunk on prescriptive drugs’.

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