I’m a Celeb You Know

Well just 1 week after attending my first movie premiere, I’m on the telly!

A couple of months back the naughty side of me decided to write in to a new TV show and apply to set up my friend.  Well there was a lot of phone calls and organising and eventually we managed to set her up on a blind date with an actor who really put her through her paces in a house full of hidden cameras.  She was so polite even through his insults and force feeding of pickled onion Monster Munch that she really did me proud.

After the filming and all was exposed, the show producer suggested that they might be able to arrange for us to attend the filming of the TV show down in London when they air the clip and so we agreed that we would love to.

Now, a whole month had passed and then it was time!  The production company were going to pay for train tickets fro myself, D and of course my poor friend to head on down to the big smoke and enjoy the embarrassment of seeing the reaction to the clip first hand.  The only problem…..they couldn’t get us a train back the same day so darn it they would also have to put us up in a hotel hee hee.  Little did we know that instead of opting for a Travelodge or some down market B&B they instead chose a gorgeous boutique hotel in London’s swanky Kensington area woop woop, we scored!

As with all our adventures, it began with a trip to Tesco Express where we purchased a box of wine and some cider for the long journey from Worcester to London.  We had a slight blip in the shop when we realised we had nothing to drink out of, so as D (the male brain) had his bright spark and ran off down the aisles to get jelly pots (still not sure how he thought we were going to consume the jelly to empty the pots to put the wine in, but hey ho), I on the other hand (the female brain) went to the coffee machine and pulled 3 perfectly formed cardboard cups from the tube, tadahhh.  See men are from mars and all that.

Now with drink (and cups) in our hand we stomped up what felt like a hundred steps to the platform where we waited for our train, then in a flurry of people rushed it as it pulled into the station and grabbed a group of 4 seats so we could set about pouring the drinks and getting the show on the road, or track so to speak.

It wasn’t long before the ticket conductor came along and started questioning what was in our cups, as it is actually illegal to drink on some trains now and upon our chorused response ‘RIBENA’ he laughed and wittered on something about him getting an automatic 10 year sentence and bending over in the showers if he ever drank on duty lol.  Who would have ever thought that being a ticket inspector could be so harsh.

Over the next couple of stops there was an ever increasing number of football supporters in their matching outfits boarding the train and the larger the groups the louder the singing got.  Especially from the one Aston Villa supporter with the single tooth who was surrounded by Birmingham fans, to much delight they enjoyed us making up our own words to the song and joining in.

Now although Worcester is a central CITY you wouldn’t think so as A) everyone thinks its a town and B) to get anywhere you always have to go to Birmingham first.  So we disembarked at Birmingham Moor Street Station and set about finding out where we were supposed to head for our next train.  As both me and my friend being girls and downing several drinks by now were desperate for the loos, D was left in charge of platform locating.  Yet again the boy brain kicked in and instead of locating the time of the train, followed by the location and subsequent platform, the eyes scanned the board, saw the words Paddington, London and said that’ll do so off we went.  It was only when my friend returned from the toilets that we were informed that we were in fact on the wrong platform and the Paddington train that we should have been on, was the one that was just pulling out of the station, and so instead we waited the extra 20 mins for the next one.  How lucky are we that there were 2 trains so close together!!!

Finally on the right train and ready for the long stint down to London, we again settled into a set of 4 seats and got the drinks out, along with a Kinder Egg or two as we need entertainment and nourishment as well.  I’m sure there was much noise coming from our section of the train as the drinks were flowing and we were getting all the more tiddly, but I wasn’t on the receiving end so can neither confirm nor deny how annoying we might have been.

At Paddington, the tube instructions were extracted from my pocket and we again set about finding where we were supposed to be in order to head in the general direction of Waterside Studios in Hammersmith.  We eventually got to the right station after several stops, 2 tubes and 5 times up and down the same escalator.  From Hammersmith tube station it was a taxi to the studio, turning out to be quite the journey isn’t it!  So after a quick pitstop in the pub opposite to again let the ladies relieve bladders we were on a mission to find us a cabbie.  Tracked down, bags in the back and feeling a wee bit wobbly we were slightly disheveled but happy that our everlasting public transport marathon was almost over.

Ever drove in London?  If so you will know that no one gets anywhere fast as the roads are always chocka, therefore we only made half of our distance in the cab to Waterside Studios before the driver suggested we cut our losses, bale and run the rest of the way in the rain.  So we did!  By the time we arrived at the studios with our mini-cases trundling behind us, our hair stuck to our faces and our eyes glazed with alcohol we had to giggle at the thought of actually getting caught on camera.

There was a long line of people queuing to get into the Studio to watch the filming of the show, but as we were appearing on it, we were advised just to head straight into reception and tell someone who we were.  So we did….at this we were ushered back stage, into our own dressing room and given a fridge full of wine and beer and a basket full of choccies and crisps, bonus ha ha!  We couldn’t quite believe our luck in all honesty as were weren’t expecting them to pay the train fair, let alone the hotel and now we have a dressing room too!!!

Between the squeals of delight, staff came back and forth and it was on one of these occasions that it was pronounced to us that we would be taken to hair and make up (thank God) and then someone would show us where we would be sitting in the audience for the show, before we are called up on stage to be interviewed in the second half……what what whaaaaat???  Ummm, we weren’t quite expecting this and certainly hadn’t prepared ourselves for being quite so ‘front’ row for the screening of our clip.

So called one by one we went to hair and make up and were made to look beautiful, and not only were we pampered, but in the chair next to us was one of the shows host’s Greg James, fancy that!  With a bit of banter and an invitation to come out with us after the show, we left Greg to his layers of foundation and headed into the studio to our seats which were emblazoned with our names and the phrase ‘Guest of the Show’, oooh la la.

Throughout the filming of the show ‘Britain Unzipped’ which seemed to take forever, we sobered up.  This isn’t good, we are about to look like complete twonks on National TV and a drink in the system would really help.  So as there are strict rules regarding there being no alcohol in the studio during filming, we managed to blag one of the runners to bring us some wine in coffee cups (see not just for trains lol).  This helped, but probably not enough as it wasn’t long until our big moment came and on the sofa, central stage we were placed alongside Greg James and co-host Russell Kane.  The filming of our interview and even the watching of the clip wasn’t actually that bad, it was the watching back of the watching back that was cringe worthy.

At last it was over and back at the changing room we were advised that the TV show were paying for a taxi to our hotel, rather than have us catch the tube again, how sweet is that!  So we went and waited patiently for our cab to arrive in the foyer, but after a 20 minute wait and the departure of one of the other show guests (Christine Bleakley) we advised the staff that we were heading to the bar for a drink and when the cab arrives they know where to find us.

We are on a roll now, free train tickets, hotel, taxi and drinks during the show it was only right that we blag a free one at the bar.  My friend who has to be the worst blagger in the world started the conversation with the bar man about how someone out front told us we could have a drink while they organised our taxi and he wasn’t buying it, so I swiftly moved in with my cheeky demeanor and quick thinking and yet again, she shoots and she scores – the milky bars (or booze) is on me ha ha.

Luckily enough we didn’t have to wait too long for our taxi, and with a guzzle of our acquired beverages we headed out to our last stretch of travelling for the day and our luxury Kensington Hotel.

Our taxi driver was lovely and kept us chatting all the way there, along with keeping our energy levels up with his bag of mint sweets, of which we nabbed a few extra on the way out to the street.

As we clamber up the steps to the hotel entrance and open the doors, we are greeted with a warmth that was a welcome change from the bitter cold and wet atmosphere of Old London Town!  To the left of the reception area was a long bank of dark wooden tables where a man was sitting in front of his laptop with his head down.  My friend being the complete numpty she is, stepped in front of him to get his attention in the hope of being checked in, and at this point I had to apologise on her behalf and explain that he was simply a guest using the wifi lol.  With a quick steer in the right direction we practically skipped down the room to the ‘actual’ reception desk where a poor guy had to then deal with us for real.

As if it isn’t bad enough when a stranger is confronted with one of us silly drunken bums, get all 3 together and you are asking for trouble.  The receptionist was trying his best not to giggle at us and our questions towards him, and I’m sure it was because of our late night amusement in such an ordinarily quiet, and upmarket hotel we got room upgrades…kaching!

With our room keys in hand it was time to go dump the bags and go play, we were off clubbing and to finish our night in style.  On the way to the rooms, at the end of the aforementioned long line of desks where the poor guest was mistakenly identified as staff, was a huge bowl of the most delicious looking ‘Snow White’ style apples.  Well to resist just wasn’t an option, so multiple hands went into the bowl and grabbed an apple each.  I’m still unsure whether these were for guests or indeed just for decoration, oh well!

Beyond the reception area and into the bar there is a quiet bustle of activity where guests are eating and drinking, therefore D deemed it appropriate to swing his arms around myself and my friend and bellow at the top of his voice “if I’m paying you girls by the hour, I don’t want to be wasting time in the bar”.  Oh yes, we have arrived and now everyone knew it lol.  As we turned towards the elevator all 3 of us then burst into a run towards a deep red velvety wall that held a lit up sign of the hotel on it.  Then all 6 hands were on the plush fabric and the phrase ‘stroke the furry wall’ was repeated by us all before bursting into laughter in homage to the film Get Him to the Greek starring Russell Brand.

As mine and D’s bedroom door swung open to reveal our digs for the night, we all looked at one another then ran in and did the tour in record time, from the bathroom to the wardrobe, jumped on the bed (to test its comfyness of course) and then we noticed it.  Like a fly being drawn towards a bright light, we all gazed at the fridge stocked with treats of all kinds in a momentary trance, before almost tearing the door from its hinges and grabbing the beers.  I believe it was at this point that we realised that if we got ready to hit the town and headed to a club to dance the night away, we would be spending lots of our well earned cash, whereas if we stayed in the hotel and drank what was here instead, as they didn’t have our personal details because the booking was through the tv company – it would be FREE!  Wahooo no brainer, and so we called for room service and got ourselves a bottle of champagne and 6 beers for starters.

Now we really are having fun, wearing the dressing gowns, slippers and shower caps that we had found around the room, drinking beer, eating nuts ‘from a jar no less’ and playing golf with the rather fancy umbrella’s that had been left for us too, we were in our element.

Once we had emptied mine and D’s mini-bar it was only right that we moved on to the next room that my friend was staying in and do the same, so off we went.  Only while we were there, D had to pop back to our room to get his phone that he had forgotten to pick up and so daft as he is, and probably quite drunk by now he made it to the elevator and down to the next floor then realised he couldn’t remember what room number he was supposed to be aiming his wobbly body at.  Nor could he remember the one he just came from lol, so the only option was to go and ask.  Dressed in the hotel dressing gown and matching slippers (over his clothes) he has to do the walk of shame through the bar to the reception past bemused guests and to our new best friend the ‘friendly receptionist’ is again, stifling his laughter at the look of D and the question ‘where am I?’ He points D back in the right direction with the room numbers ha ha ha.

The rest of the night was spent having as much fun as we could within the confines of a hotel, with free, unlimited drink there were roly-polys, handstands, hiding in cupboards, tv watching and of course the golf :O)

To call my friend light fingered when it comes to hotels and pubs would be an understatement – if its not screwed down and she deems it a souvenir then its fair game.  The biggest mistake this particular hotel made was that they actually provided lovely branded paper bags to carry the stuff home in too.  So when it was time to leave the next morning, she made the most of the accessories in the room and came away with the bag bursting to the brim.  This included a cotton wool vanity box, a hairdryer, slippers, a vanity mirror, all the toiletries (of course)  and much, much more.

Back at Paddington, and after such a heavy night on the drink our belly’s were ready for feeding so with a quick stop at Burger King we ordered our not so luxury meals (back down to reality eh!).  It was at this point while waiting for our bags of processed meat in a bun and chips that my friend noticed a limp piece of lettuce lying on the floor of the station.  Well dares are not a thing for the feint hearted in our friendship group and so D was given the challenge, only to respond with a donkey dare bounceback.  This made it unavoidable for her, and so as she walked past, with a quick bend of the knees and scoop of the hand that dirty leaf was in her mouth and gone in no time – oh the shame!

On the train home, there was a poor unfortunate soul who ended up having to share a quad of seats with us, and although  his understanding of the English language was limited and he couldn’t understand everything we were saying, we did make him laugh a number of times.  Especially, when the time came for D to eat a cotton wool ball from the stolen vanity box, at which point our new friend also pointed out that he too wanted to eat the one he had been offered.  It doesn’t take long for us to rub off on the innocent lol.

Back at home, the 3 day wait began until the show would be aired, it felt like forever and I wasn’t entirely sure if I was excited and looking forward to my 5 minutes of fame, or dreading it?!  The next day once we started to unpack  I realised that I had lost the new jacket I had bought for the show, I believe I left it hanging up in the hotel bedroom and it wasn’t like I could call up and ask for it back knowing that we had left a massive unpaid room service bill and my friend had half-inched everything from her room.  She too had lost not just her new jacket, but also some GHD straighteners, her pjs, wash bag and everything else that wasn’t stolen, doh!  I think that’s what you call karma?

When the wait was over and it was time to accept our new found fame, we all congregated in my friends lounge, perched on sofas, armchairs, dining chairs and the floor in a rather snug fashion and watched with bated breath.  The prank actually went down well, with neither of us making a complete fool of ourselves on National TV, and instead the response was phenomenal!  Facebook and Twitter lit up like Christmas trees with messages from friends and family who had seen the show, and considering that this was a brand new show and only the second ever episode there was A LOT of people who saw it.  I’m guessing that there is very little on at 9pm on a Tuesday normally.

The most memorable part of the clip however, is where my poor friend is told that the actor playing the role of D’s friend can see her ‘rat’ – this became her catchphrase for a while and caused hilarity among friends.

We have since both been spotted as ‘that girl off the telly’ in the local Costcutter, and surely it doesn’t get more A list than that?

Who knows, I may double my fame time by making another appearance somewhere, but for now I’m quite happy with the short stint I did at my friends expense and I’m so glad she forgave me for the setup!

 

The ‘Yellow’ Carpet

Well get me!  This time last week, I was at a real, celebrity filled movie premier in London!

I won a couple of tickets for Irvine Welsh’s new film ‘Ecstasy’, by entering a competition on Twitter believe it or not, now normally I don’t win anything no matter how many competitions I enter so I was thrilled at the prospect of such a fab prize when I got the good news.  The writer, Irvine, is probably better known for Trainspotting, and this film is no less gritty and unafraid of the dark side of life.

D and I managed to find a cheap hotel approx 5 miles from the Ministry of Sound, where the premiere was being held.  And even if it did look like an office block from the outside, and an Ikea on the inside, it was surprisingly comfy and clean.  The only downside, is that it is owned by a German company, which meant that all the fixtures, fittings and general merchandise within the hotel were German by origin.  Including the duvets, which were rather small in size, so whenever we lay on our sides, our butts were exposed lol.

Anyway, we checked in, got glammed up and then took the tube from Putney to Elephant & Castle ready to rub shoulders with the richer and more famous than us.

Once there we queued for our wristbands (nice shiny gold ones) and then told to head up the red carpet, or in this case a bright yellow one in fitting with the films branding and colour scheme, and enter the club. Well, behind us we could see a whole crowd of paparazzi and the flashing of cameras as someone was being papped on their way in.  So with a deep breath, and some flutters of excitement in my tummy we walked to the entrance at the foot of the carpet and made our way past the waiting photographers.  It was rather disappointing that not a single one, even gave us a second glance and instead just chatted among themselves lol.  Do they not realise who I am?? Ha ha.

Once inside, glasses of champagne were thrust into our hands, and well, it’d be rude not too wouldn’t it, so we gladly took them and then started our mini tour of the club.  The Ministry of Sound is a club that D and I have always talked about visiting but just haven’t managed to get our act together and get there, so for us it was killing two birds with one stone on the holy ground, as we were in the sanctum of the Ministry as well as being at our first movie premiere – bonus!

There were lots of people mingling and enjoying the drinks, but then there was an announcement that stated which room you needed to go to, based upon the colour wristband that you were given.  There were three in total, red (which was the VIP VIP), gold which was VIP (what we had) and orange which was the standard.  So now we knew where we were supposed to be we, we slipped through the curtains into the designated screening room (The Box for those who are familiar with the club).  Inside there were rows of gold chairs in front of a large pull down screen, and on each seat was a white piece of paper with a name on it, in BIG black letters.  After searching the rows, and being unable to identify where we were supposed to be seated, we decided that we were probably given the wrong wristbands in error and it was tough, we were staying put, so plonked our butts on what would have been Modestep’s seats.  A couple of moments later we were given hip flasks filled with a Jamesons whiskey cocktail as a keepsake.

It was at this point, that upon looking around us, we saw lots of famous faces from TV, music and film, and then Adam Sinclair who plays Lloyd, the lead role in the film stood up and gave an intro before it was lights, camera, action and the premiere began.

The viewing of the film was good, we both really enjoyed it and would go see it again, but blimey those seats were uncomfortable, we were aching beyond belief and desperate for the loo by the time the closing credits came up.  But before we could unfold and relieve ourselves we had to sit through question and answer sessions with both the cast, and then Irvine Welsh and Rob Heydon (Director).  Other than feeling rather sore and about to pee myself, it was an honor to be a part of this experience, so I did my best to sit still until it was all over.  (We were definitely in the wrong screen – no doubt about it now!)

In a flurry of high heels and hair, I was in and out of the loo in no time and it was time to top up the drinks and get on the dance floor.  It was while shaking what my mamma gave me in the main room next door that my eyes started spotting large yellow paper bags, emblazoned with the word Ecstasy……goodie bags!!!!!  Ok where were they coming from and who was allowed them?  After 5 minutes of sussing out the crowd, I bit the bullet and asked the guy next to me.  It was as simple as heading to the cloakroom, where they were being handed out in abundance, so off we went.

Inside we got a Drunken Monkey t.shirt, two CD’s (Ministry of Sound and the official Ecstasy movie soundtrack), an Opi nail varnish (random) and various promotional flyers.  Not bad for a night at the movies eh!

With an early start the next day for a client meeting, and the long drive home we didn’t stay at the after party for long and instead opted to head back to our Swedish looking bedroom in Putney and grab some grub.

There aren’t that many people I know who have been given the opportunity to experience a movie premiere and so I’m pleased I got that chance.  This weekend coming, I will be back down in the Old Smoke, only on this occasion I will be on the BBC on a new comedy TV Show.  Maybe those paps will think twice about not taking my photo once they realise that my face is just getting everywhere at the moment ha ha. I’m a star in the making!   Ok, maybe not, but I don’t mind hanging out with the real ones if it means freebies and champagne, so if anyone famous is looking for a new BFF, look no further ;o)

Any Old Iron…

They do say that one mans rubbish, is another mans treasure, well this is definitely the case in my street.

Now I’m not blessed with a massive fortune, and the neighbourhood I live in is predominantly made up of benefit cheats, baby-poppers and down and outs.  The children of the street, don’t know how to string a sentence without every other word being a swear one and love nothing more than to torment the neighbours by kicking their ball at front doors etc.

One of these boys, who actually lives opposite is a tad ‘special’, I’m not sure quite what is wrong with him as he is physically able and compos mentis, but boy is he slow on the uptake and he has a horrible habit of staring at me.

Seeing as last weekend was an extended bank holiday one, we took it upon us to ‘seize the day’ and clear out the side passage leading to the garden which was full of building materials and the shed which was full of…well, all sorts!

We hired a skip and filled it to the brim with all manner of rubbish and seeing as we live on snob hill (not) we often get a scrap man or two driving around looking for goodies.  So being the lovely people we are, D and I split out all the metal scrap from the rubbish and left this in a separate pile for collection.  This included a childs swing, the safety surround from the trampoline, 2 lawn mowers, a bike and an electric scooter.

Within 5 minutes of us slapping our hands, and agreeing the job was done and it was beer o’clock, there was a knock at the door.  It was the boy from across the road, asking if he could have the bike (which was rusted solid and had warped wheels from a drunken incident described in an earlier post) and the electric scooter which had no charger or power pedal, as Twinkle my cheeky little Westie had chewed it to bits without my knowing when she converted the shed into a doggie bedroom one time.

I explained that neither were any good and that was why there were on the scrap pile, but if he wanted them he could have them.

5 minutes after that the door goes again!  This time its all the little girls in the street, who delighted in telling me that the boy had taken the bike and scooter and did I know – in other words they grassed on him lol.

Having had enough and with the sun in the sky, I quickly cleaned up and headed to the nearest bar for a drink like any sane person on a bank holiday.

Feeling a tad hungover and not in the mood for playing the next day, I get yet another knock at the door!  Its the boy again, groan!  This time he wants to know where the charger for the scooter is….duh!!! How do I get through to this stooopid kid that the scooter was put in the scrap for a reason?! So with a rather unsubtle “No! That’s why it was put out for the scrap man” and forceful closing of the door (I promise I didn’t slam it, that’d just be rude ;o) I went to settle down again.

My butt had hardly skimmed the sofa, let alone got chance to snuggle down into the cushions for a chilled out TV catch-up session and I hear banging on the door again, aaarrrgghhhh!!

Ready for wrap my fingers around the kids throat I open the door  with a big sigh, only to find it isn’t the boy.  It is actually the little girl from next door – all big blue eyes and long blonde hair and I can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment at not being able to throttle the tard from over the road.  Instead I am asked about the scooter (yet again), only this time the question was “did it work before I put it out for scrap?”.  Now that is a good question!  Not one I knew the answer to though, as it had sat festering at the bottom of the garden in the rickety shed for about 5 years.  Soooo, yes the last time it was charged up and used, it did work, but as for now?  Who knows!  What did it matter anyway, it had already been taken.  So I explained all this, and that even if it did work, I didn’t have the charger for it and it had already been nabbed by the special kid.  I was surprised at the response to this, which was along the lines of “oh, thats fine, I’ve got a charger, and its there!”.  In utter disbelief, I peer around her, scanning my eyes along the skip on the driveway to the end where right enough the dumb ass boy had brought it back!  So with a, help yourself and a roll of my eyes in utter disbelief I closed the door and returned to making myself comfy.

Seriously though, how can the excavation of so much crap, scrap and rubbish from my garden and shed cause so much of a stir of interest in the neighbours?  Are they really that desperate?  If there is one thing I have learnt from this experience is that, I need to keep my junk hidden else the odd-balls will be crawling out of the woodwork to nab it all and I won’t get any peace!

Arriba! Epa! Epa! Epa! Yeehaw!

This Saturday D and I had the company of some good friends, and decided to head on out for a scrummy dinner.

There is a little Mexican in town which really does have the most a-m-aaaa-zing food so it was bit of a no brainer when deciding where to go.  As well as having a fantastic array of mouth watering food on offer, there is also a rather fine list of beers from all over the world – many of which are pretty strong (up to 12%abv) so the boys would have something to keep them occupied while waiting for their meals!

Upon being shown to our table downstairs in a rather cosy cellar, with all manor of random objects, paintings and decor scattered around, I considered myself the lucky one as I noticed hiding in a little cubby hole right next to my seat was a ride on snail.  Obviously this was far too much of a coincidence and I couldn’t therefore miss up the opportunity to have a go (even in a busy restaurant I will still find the time to make a twonk of myself lol).

At the end of the meal and already rather lubricated, it was decided that tequila shots were in order to finish the dinner properly – complete with worms!!!

Now, I’m not normally a squeamish person, but the idea of eating a worm wasn’t all that appetising and I opted for the shot without one.  Unfortunately, in all the fussing about which tequila to order in the first place as again there was quite a few options, the shots were delivered and I too had been given an oversized maggot to devour.

They really do look like vile little things – something that would burrow under your skin and lay eggs without you knowing until one day you wake up and your skin is crawling and bursting as they try to escape, bleurgghhhh!  Now, I wasn’t about to pansy out of this challenge, even if it was eyeing me up with its big black peepers in a ‘don’t you dare eat me’ kind of way.  On the count of 3, the salt was licked, the shots thrown down our necks and the lime was sucked to dehydrated, limp shadows of their former selves.

The worm itself wasn’t noticed in the downing action, but psychologically, I could feel its beady eyes glaring at me internally and had to refrain from wanting to throw it back up again.

Until Saturday, I hadn’t really considered the history of the tequila worm (a marketing gimmick by all accounts) nor the effect of it might have on the level of alcohol in my blood stream.  Needless to say the rest of the night is pretty much a blur, not a single one of us remembers a great deal about the many pubs we frequented following our meal or how we got to them.  We even had one of the pub owners, who is a friend, contact us yesterday just to laugh at how drunk we were!  Now that is something, as by now most people have seen us obliterated on at least one occasion!

So I think the morale of this story is never underestimate the power of even the littlest things in life…..like worms!

THE WORM!!!

Cirque du Ouch

Last night I attempted aerial skills, yep you heard me right.  Me, swinging from curtains and trying to look graceful whilst at it.

It was one of those things that I thought would be a great idea at the time of booking for me and my daughter, but come to the actual doing it, my body wasn’t quite as cooperative as hoped lol.

I have no idea how professionals do it day in day out, because my god it hurts!  I thought pole dancing was bad for leaving me battered and bruised but it is nothing in comparison.

We started out by learning how to lock our feet on the fabric meaning that we could remain suspended in the air without dropping to the ground in a heap, ok got it.  Next it was using the technique learned in standing in the fabric to climb it, hmmm not so good.  My arms just would not hold my weight and allow my legs to tangle themselves how they were supposed to so my ‘aerial’ skills were demonstrated more at a ground level.

Beyond this mastery (or lack of in my case – I was deffo the class dunce), we were shown a couple of poses/moves, the first was called the swan in which case we had to separate the curtain fabric, climb between it and then lower ourselves forward using our arms, while one leg was locked into the base.  It looked very pretty when demonstrated and I managed to do this one relatively easy as I’m quite bendy, but wriggling myself back into the start position took a few grunts.  The second was called the cocoon, whereby we had to again split the fabric but this time spread it out across our front and back in a kind of hammock style way until we were completely encased.  Again not so bad, and I could redeem some of the shame I had installed upon myself at trying to climb.

The last section of the session was dedicated to a sequence of moves that would allow us to flow into a tumbling fall safely, and the fabric would catch us….oh dear!

Firstly, I would like to point out that there were some rather unflattering positions with bums being pointed at the poor spectators, and secondly that material is not as soft and stroky as it looks, it must have hidden fangs or something because it masticated my poor aching body.  The first stage was to lie across the fabric with it in a swing style, with your lower back actually taking the weight.  This in itself hurt like hell as it squeezed from the sides and the pressure of my entire body weight on such a small area, but we then took it to another level…

Once balance on our back, we had to swing our legs up in the air with them open so we were dangling upside down (not one iota of a flattering look).  Then wrap our legs around the suspended fabric and through the centre before pulling ourselves up into a seated position with the material acting a bit like the safety harnesses you see on rock climbers etc.  This is where it got N.A.S.T.Y, omfg that material squeezed my poor flabby thighs with more power than a constrictor and no matter how I wriggled to try and get it in a more comfortable position it just wasn’t prepared to play ball.  The worst part about it is that I couldn’t just slip out of it either, I needed to complete the sequence of moves to untangle the knot that was encasing my body and legs.  So with bit of a heave and a ho, the legs were back up and through the centre of the fabric, and with just a flip back the other way I was undone.

Thanks to the above, I am now sporting some cracking bruises all along my back, my hips and my inner thighs.  If the other half thought he was going to give me some lovin’ he was going to have to come armed with a whole load of cushions and pain relief lol.

Why oh why do I do it to myself eh?  Bonkers!

Oh and who would have thought that even the muscles in your fingers could ache that much, I think I’ve got mini-biceps on them today.

Jd and I in our 'cocoons'

 

Brainiac – or Not?

After all the trouble I have experienced lately with my little motor, the sun came out to play and it was definitely time to get the roof down and go cruising (well to the shop and back anyhoo).

Well, my luck being as crappy as it is struck again!  My roof started folding down but the boot section it folds into just refused to lift and so back up it had to go :O(

D being the lovely young man and helpful soul he is, said he would look at fixing it for me and so we set about it in a team effort.

With a bit of rummaging in the boot, turning of nobs here and there and a large amount of protesting beeps from the car itself we finally managed to get the section to lift and back in working order…..until we did a final test and Mr Impatient yank the cover open rather than letting the hydraulic action work at its own pace.

Now its refusing to budge!!!

I’ve got the hood folded inside the boot section, and the cover raised up in the air not wanting to move.

So back in the boot with twists and turns here and there, huffing and puffing from me and disgruntled snorts from him, the manual comes out and we decide to follow the instructions on how to replace the roof manually.  It wasn’t so simple!

It took a lot of strength to pull the roof out of its hidy hole and there was much protesting in the form of creaks and clicking sounds which made me wince at the thought of hundreds of pounds in repair bills.  But we got it up half way and then it was time to close the cover again, and as you guessed – it wasn’t going to move, not one tiny bit!

So now the roof is half up, not attached to the car at either the front or back and the back boot section is in mid air too!  At this point everything decided that it was going to dig the heels in and neither go up, nor down and I had to go hide in the house or I would have lost my temper.

D on the other hand, kept at it for another half an hour of tugging and pulling, scratching his head and reading over and over the pages in the manual but to no avail.

Eventually, I had a brainiac idea – ‘switch the engine off’ as the manual operation is normally carried out when there is a powercut in the engine.  In doing this the whole roof visibly sighed and with a slight of hand here and then stretched across and latched against the windscreen and the karman cover folded neatly into place. Doh!

We both had to laugh at this point because it really was THAT simple to fix, but nowhere in the manual does it mention anything about the power being off – bloody Renault!

At least I know now for future reference, but why oh why can’t my life be simple and straight forward.  Just once in a while at least lol.

Bloody car!

Top Dog

This morning on my walk to the office I had to laugh to myself.

There is a party shop just a few hundred yards away and today there was a big lorry parked outside it, with row upon row of helium bottles for the balloons.  This isn’t funny in itself, but watching the little black spaniel that appeared to be monitoring the delivery operation was.  It stood there, wagging its tail, taking stock of both the man on the back of the lorry handing the bottles down, and the guy on the ground who was loading them onto his cart and pushing them into the shop.  It looked just like he was the boss, or ‘top dog’ lol.

On a separate note, just a few stomps more and I saw a woman who was the spitting image of ‘Mirage’ from The Incredibles movie.

What a great way to start the day, it has certainly put that Friday feeling in me and I’m ready to rock n roll.

Totally Inappropriate

Isn’t it funny how when you need to be serious, the most crazy thing happens and you can’t help react in a very inappropriate way, often to looks of disgust from passers by.

Well, this was no different….

A friend and I are fans of Jodi Picoult and although I had not read the book ‘My Sisters Keeper‘ at this point my friend had told me all about it, so when the film was released at the cinema we just had to have ourselves a girly date to go and watch it.

Stacked up with oversized fizzy drinks, buckets of popcorn and more food than we could physically eat between us without busting a few seam stitches here are there we made our way into the darkened screen room, found our seats and settled in for the duration.

As the film went on, we got engrossed in the story line and were enjoying the film (well as much as you can ‘enjoy’ a weepy).  This was until a lady about 4 rows behind us started crying!  Now, when I say crying I don’t mean a little sniffle here or there, I mean full on sobbing and it went on, and on, and on…

It is very difficult for me to remain straight faced when someone is acting like this, and to be honest she could have at least tried to keep it down rather than interrupting everyone’s viewing pleasure with her howling.  But instead of turning around and telling her to shut the fluff up, I remained polite, left her to her crying and just chuckled beneath my breath at the randomness of it all, and after a while she just blended into the background noise of the movie.

If you have seen this film, you will know that it is indeed an emotional film about a girls battle with Leukemia, and towards the end, as the story is coming to an end, tears are welling in everyone’s eyes, and there is a hushed silence in anticipation of her last breath.

It was at this exact moment that the girl who had been bawling earlier in the film, started up again and the one sat in the seat behind me let out a huge BLLEEEUUURRRRGGGGGHHHHH and threw up all over the floor by her feet.  This in itself had me in hysterical laughter at totally the wrong time!  The moment was gone, the empathy that I was feeling just moments before was gone, and instead had been replaced with uncontrollable laughing.

Because the floor in cinema’s are usually sloped towards the front of the room, I had to very quickly retrieve my handbag from the floor and place it on my lap, which was just in time, as the sick from behind was working its way under my seat and in the direction of the screen.

That was it, I was a gonner!  There were tears running down my aching cheeks, I could hardly breathe and I was choking from trying my hardest to laugh quietly, my friend who had also been laughing was also set off to extreme levels and as the closing credits started to scroll on the screen there was no choice but to get out of there quickly before the lights came on and we could see the looks of disgust from the people that were a bit unfortunate, but the real reason why we were laughing.

It wasn’t the kind of crying I was expecting when I got my ticket for the movie at the kiosk, but cor blimey it was hilarious! Totally inappropriate, but damn funny and definitely a trip to remember!  Cinema’s just aren’t the same anymore lol.

It’s a Pain being Vain

Like most girls, there is a deeply rooted obsession within me for shoes!  I have row upon row of them lined up on shelves in my bedroom, although more often than not in an attempt to take one pair off there is a chain reaction and a shoe-valanche occurs.  I guess this comes with the territory though and so a small price to pay.

They are all colour’s of the rainbow and everything in between, accessorized with buttons, clips, glitter, bows and bling they really are a sight to behold. I’m renowned both in my workplace and among friends for having a particular attention to detail whereby I coordinate my shoes with whatever I’m wearing, and Saturday night was no exception.

We were heading out on the town for some overdue fun and frolicking and I wanted to look my best.  So I donned a lovely sparkly gold top, dark blue skinny jeans and the most gorgeous pair of gold glittery shoes.  I looked fab!

The downside – MY FEET WERE KILLING ME!!!  All night we wandered from bar to bar before heading on to the club and each step was carefully placed so I didn’t wobble and end up face-planting myself.  Once in the club, I danced the night away as any city-savvy girl should but by golly miss molly were the tootsies burning.  It really is unfair how much effort and pain us women have to put into looking good for a night out, whereas the boys have comfy feet all the time!

By the time we decided to head on home, each step sent a searing pain from the hell right through to the tips of my toes and so the steps were even more carefully placed and slower than before.  I don’t think I was too drunk, I didn’t feel it but just as we passed the entrance to another club en-route to the taxi rank I managed to launch myself in a super-hero style airborne fall, before landing face down, sprawled out across the pavement!  Luckily, I’m pretty used to this so I didn’t hurt myself and instead have learned to bounce lol.

The other half, totally oblivious to me lying on the ground laughing to myself had carried on walking a few steps, all the while a passer by and a doorman from the club entrance I was passing came to my rescue in panicked shock (I think it scared them more than me!).  They put me back in my upright position, in Cinderella style placed my shoes back on my sore and swollen feet and gallantly asked if I was hurt and needed any further help.  All this happens, before D actually bothers to turn around and notice, and when he does he just chortles – charming!  Does my nearest and dearest seriously not understand the torture I put myself through to look nice on his arm?  If I wasn’t so in love with my footwear I’d be tempted to wear orthopeadic ones next time just to teach him a lesson.

So boys, please don’t underestimate the pain us girls go through that is often unnoticed, and if you really care about your girl a foot massage once in a while wouldn’t go amiss ;o)

Oh Pants!!!

Now I’m not sure if I’m going to make myself look even more of a doofus by admitting to this one, because it is me and only me that suffers with this curse – but does anyone elses pants fall down at the most inappropriate times?

I don’t want you worrying that I’m flashing my bare bits to the world, its not quite that bad, but it does seem to happen in the most awkward, and public of places meaning that retrieving them from deep down in my trousers isn’t easy.

I’m not sure if I’ve got a wonky bum, or a certain wiggle in my walk, but while my trousers, jeans etc all stay up and where they are supposed to be.  My pants wriggle down, just a little bit at a time with each step I take, and before I know it they are rolled up under my butt cheeks leaving my bare skin exposed against the outer layer of clothing.  My pants are the right size, so I know its not because they are too big, and they don’t do it when I’m wearing a skirt – only clothing with legs!

More often than not, this embarassing and ever so slightly uncomfortable unveiling happens in the supermarket when I’m going about my bore of a chore buying groceries!  Why???  By the time I get to the checkout I’m convinced that everyone can tell my knickers have gone haywire, because I have a bulky looking ridge where they’ve rolled up into a VVPL (very visible panty line).

It happened again last night, only this time I was at my first ever kickboxing class.  to accompany my undies, I was wearing some everyday comfy joggers, a vest top and a sports bra – nothing unusual there!  However, as part of our warm up we had to skip, something I haven’t actually done since I was in a school playground as a child.  Not only was it more tiring than I ever remember it, especially when hopping from one foot to the next at high speed. But….on this occasion it actually made my pants fall down.  As I was jumping around, they literally wiggled their way down in record time to the tops of my legs where they were stopped by my joggers, but then my joggers started to loosen and slide down too.  So as I stop to grab my pants and yank them up, and tighten the string on my trousers as tight as possible to prevent any serious embarrassment.  I look down to realise that my right boobie has also decided to wriggle out of its holster and needed putting away too.

My body is rebelling, and attempting to turn me into a flasher and for the sake of those around me and not wanting a criminal record I need a solution!  Oh, and if anyone else suffers with problematic public declothing, it’d be nice to know I’m not alone so fess up!