Thieving rob-dogs

Yes, it’s that time of year again, when we spend all evening either avoiding the sound of the doorbell, or getting up and down a million times to answer the door and shove some sweets into the sticky hands of ungrateful children.

It’s funny how:
1) parents spend all year telling children not to talk to, or accept sweets from, strangers, but as soon as October 31 comes round they’re more than happy for their kids to do both; and
b) people who turn their noses up at buying the Big Issue encourage their children to beg on Hallowe’en.

What’s worse is that kids nowadays don’t want penny sweets, they want pound coins or folding money. And what’s even worse is that police forces around the country have taken drastic measures – cancelled leave, plain clothes officers – to try to put a stop to the violence that, more and more frequently, is the ‘trick’. On the radio tonight people were talking of their Hallowe’en experiences – including a motorbike smashed up and set on fire, and car windscreens covered with paint, and flour and water.

We’ll be doing our usual – ignoring the door. In previous years our attempts to pretend we weren’t in were thwarted by Jack barking merrily at every knock… we should have more luck tonight.

Happy Hallowe’en, and don’t let the thieving rob-dogs (some people call them trick or treaters I believe) get you down!

Fall back

The clocks went back in the early hours of this morning (about the time that I was singing drunkenly to a friend down the phone, in fact). The extra hour in bed is lovely (especially when you are in danger of having a hangover) but the fun ends there.

We’re now back on Greenwich Mean Time and not British Summer Time. When I was a kid I always wondered what Greenwich Mean Time meant, and now I understand. It’s mean, it’s nasty and it makes me feel poo. Today, it started to get dark at 5 p.m. which, quite frankly, sucks donkey doo-dahs; especially as it was fully dark by 5.30.

And to make matters worse, they’re already running Christmas adverts on TV and the shops have Christmas decorations and other paraphenalia. It’s not even Halloween yet, FFS!!

Sigh.

Tenacious

I’m not sure whether to be pleased about this or not…

Recently, at work, a colleague said that if I was an animal, I’d be a terrier, as I’m tenacious.

I’m not sure whether he means I stick to my guns, or that I go for the throat…

Metrosexual

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love diversity, especially when it comes to sexuality. Straight, gay, bi, tri(anything once) – it all interests me. I also love Metrosexuality – as what woman doesn’t appreciate a man taking good care of himself, making sure he’s well presented and smart? A man who doesn’t take care of his appearance won’t take care of a woman, nor will he appreciate said woman spending time and effort on her own appearance. And there’s nothing worse than getting close to someone and suddenly realising their hair is greasy, their fingernails are dirty and their armpits whiff.

I’m happy to say that both my husband and my closest male friend are metrosexual, and will happily spend hours discussing skincare, clothes and hairstyles.

However, I didn’t realise that marrying Mr Metrosexual would have such dire consequences. Yes, dear reader, Mr Metrosexual has gone away for the weekend with my GHDs. I think this could be grounds for a divorce.

A fair swap?

Woof

Originally uploaded by swingnut.

This weekend, instead of a husband, I have a dog. Another dog called Jack, but this one’s a collie (sheepdog).

Husband is away on a stag night, and said stag is the owner of this Jack (MkII). Jack and I will be looking after each other tonight.

Jack2 has had a good sniff all round the house, and has pulled out all Jack1’s toys. He’s run round the garden, peed on the greenhouse and eaten the end of my toast. All the things, in others words, that Jack1 used to do.

It’s weird to have another dog around, especially another Jack. This one is similar but different – he doesn’t know the rules, he’s smaller and fluffier, and in many ways better behaved (no barking at other dogs or motorbikes). But having him around is making me realise just how special Jack1 was.

*Pop!*

One of my favourite clothes shops has opened a new store at our local ‘out of town retail park’, where we go to Starbucks and to get groceries. How very convenient.

I watched the store being fitted out with eager anticipation, but despite the new place being open for almost 10 days now, I haven’t checked it out yet.

Until today. A new skirt was needed to match a rather smashing top, for a wedding party tomorrow night. This called for a trip to River Island.

I must admit I almost felt tingles of excitement as I entered, and after some fondling of fabric, a little rummaging and a quick strip, I popped my cherry at the new store. One rather splendid skirt later (I was assured my bum did not look big and was also pleased that it was a nice slinky size) and I was fully satisfied.

What goes on tour….

…stays on tour.

I survived the hen weekend, just! Although I couldn’t possibly tell you what went on, some of the highlights included vomit, Friends, a ghost, blue alcohol, Tequila, snoring, pyjamas, cake, crystals, hot water bottles, ice and nipples. And lots and lots of laughter

‘Cluck!’

This weekend, I’m going to Tenby for a hen/bachelorette party.

I’m sure we’ll have a fab time – I’m reliably informed the rugby club is open till 1 a.m. and they have a disco….

Seriously, Tenby has recently become the hen and stag capital of the UK – luckily our ‘hen’ isn’t into the whole ‘wearing a fake veil covered with willies and condoms and stuff’ thing and instead we’re having a nice girlie weekend (complete with pyjama party).

All the same, I’ll say ‘Sayonara’ now, just in case….

PMSL!!

This news story made me laugh today, mainly because a) I hate golf and all things to do with golf, and b) they must have had really good aim to manage to get it in the holes!

Metaphor

Tonight I decided that a nice, long, relaxing soak in the bath was just what I needed. To make it even more special and luxurious, I decided to drop in a Lush bath ballistic that had been sitting round in the bathroom for a while.

Bath ballistics are designed to fizz when they enter the water, and sure enough my bath water was soon fizzing with a lovely cherry pink hue. And then I noticed that there was something else within the bath ballistic. Something small, something in abundance, something… kind of… petally. How sweet I thought.

Until I realised that all the petals were brown and dead, having sat round in my bathroom far too long. So there I sat, in a bath full of brown, dead petals, and wondered what life was trying to tell me.