I’ve just done my CBT (Compulsory Basic Training) so I can now officially ride any 2 wheeled motorised vehicle with an engine up to 125cc. It was possibly the single most terrifying experience of my life to date.

We (my husband and I) took the CBT with Mark of Tommy Bee’s Biker Training, at their location in Rawdon near Leeds and Bradford Airport. This information is important because that means it’s high up and thus incredibly windy. The day started early, 8:45am - it was very cold, very windy and rained on and off all day, (not the best conditions for dicking about on bikes). We’d decided to train on 125cc geared LML Star scooters, basically Vespa PXs but made in India. We got started on the bikes pretty much straight away, no better way to learn really. The lad training with us was the first to start, it took him a few attempts but he was soon off on his way. Then it was Adam’s turn - it took longer for him to get going, pretty much stalling every time he tried to start; this isn’t a criticism, there’s a real knack to starting a scooter, it takes practice and this was our first time. When he was going he was fine, steady and in control, but getting it started again proved increasingly more difficult. He rode straight into a fence because the thing got away from him, then he fell off and landed in a puddle, and then he flew off the back as the scooter reared like a horse - looked fucking cool though. We were both very glad we’d paid the extra £15 to cover for such accidents! That’s when Mark suggested Adam try an automatic, and instantly we knew it was the right decision; they’re a doddle to ride.

Then it was my turn to have a go. After watching Adam’s accidents I could’ve been put off, but because he didn’t hurt himself too badly I just thought it was incredibly funny - especially him driving into the fence, it still makes me laugh thinking about it! I wasn’t doing too bad, starting pretty much first time every time without stalling. I had control and felt comfortable, whizzing around the training ground happy as Larry. But when it came to changing up a gear, that’s when my problems started. I just couldn’t do it quick enough, or I’d slip it into neutral rather than second or pull it too far and go into third, jerking all over the place. I wasn’t happy as that’s the same problem I had when driving a car, and why I stopped because I was frightened of causing an accident. So I spoke with Mark and said I wouldn’t feel comfortable on the road with a geared machine, and he agreed it was probably best if I too switch to an automatic. Best choice ever - I fell in love instantly; it’s like a push bike with an engine, so much fun to ride! I knew I’d be much happier, and safer, on the road with one of these little beasts.

I won’t bore you with rest of the training, it’s stopping, turning corners and shit like that. No further falls or injuries were had. We’ll jump straight to the road ride. It was frightening and exciting all at once. We’d had it drummed into us that cars will pull out of nowhere on us, won’t see us when they’re turning, parked cars will have their doors flung open; basically, we were near death at all times and we just had to stay alive as long as we could. Obviously that’s not what he said, but it’s how I felt, constantly scanning the side roads, keeping a look out for crazy old people wandering into the road, making sure cars weren’t sat on my tail… It made me very aware of what other people were doing which is the point I guess, I can only look out for myself and if other people are knob heads I just have to make sure I’m not. The wind was very strong, especially on the country roads with no shelter. Being buffeted going round a corner on a bike at 30mph is scary as shit! I was holding on to that bike for dear life, every muscle in my body tense and screaming.

It was a relief to head into a housing estate to do our emergency stop and U-turn “test”. My stop went well first time, no skidding. My U-turn however went really badly. Well, not the U-turn itself - trying to turn away from the curb went badly, instead of pulling the front brake I pulled my palm back slightly, which revved the engine so it jumped the curb and hit a brick wall and sent me flying. Luckily it wasn’t at speed so it was mostly my pride that got hurt (or so I thought at the time), I’ve fallen harder on skates doing controlled falls so wasn’t a big deal, it was just frustrating. Again, glad we took the insurance!

We drove around for another couple hours, re-did the U-turn perfectly, and thus ended our day at 7pm with a fresh certificate in our hands and the freedom to ride anything up to a 125cc. We were told that we need to go a bit faster so we’re not holding up traffic, but it’s difficult to make a 50cc scooter get past 30mph on a good day, let alone with strong cross winds and a silently screaming novice at the helm. When we got home it felt like we’d been in a boxing ring, every inch ached from the cold and wind and tension, bruises appearing out of nowhere - I’ve now got a huge bruise on my shin/knee where the bike fell on me and it hurts even to have my jeans rest on it! But I’m now excited, and slightly terrified, at the prospect of getting my own machine and getting back out there and tearing up the tarmac… cautiously, of course!

I woke up screaming again last night. I thought my night terrors had run their course and they would be over for good. I was wrong.

Let me explain: I’ve always had problems with sleeping, I can be dog tired but as soon as my head hits the pillow I’m wide awake again. Or I’ll fall asleep just to wake up every half an hour.  Or I’ll lay awake all night then just as I finally start to drift off my alarm will go off. This went on for years until I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and prescribed medication to help me sleep; 30mg of Amitriptyline before bed to help me have proper, refreshing sleep. That was 6 years ago, at the last doctors visit I was up to 150mg a day and they were starting to need increasing again. They don’t particularly work to be honest and they give me a terrible hangover. The last straw came when having a severe bout of Labyrinthitis the doc couldn’t prescribe me anything because they’d interfere terribly with my meds, so I thought “Fuck this! They’re clearly not working properly, preventing me from taking other much needed pills and causing a bunch of unwanted side effects. That’s it! No more!” and since then I’ve been reducing them steadily, luckily without side effects, or so I thought.

I started with sleep paralysis about 3 years ago. Eyes wide open but still in a dream state, seeing the room as normal but unable to move. Not fun but not awful. Then one time I woke up picking kittens off my husband and thinking it was completely rational until my brain finally caught up with the rest of me and fully came round. Again, not awful and slightly funny. Then it took a turn for the worse, I’d wake up screaming or shouting because I’d see spiders crawling on my pillow or hanging from a web near my head, shadow people moving around the room or faces appearing at my bedside. It became quite frequent, once or twice a week for about 3 months then it gradually slowed down to nothing, except for the odd occasion, about 6 months ago. But now they seem to have started up again, I’ve been seeing the spiders again but my sleep brain has cottoned on to what’s happening and I can just ignore them or push them away, literally not figuratively, so a lot easier to deal with. Then last night it got worse. It was possibly the most frightened I’ve been in a long time. My entire body was trying to fight off the paralysis so I could get away from this “being” that was trying to attack me where I lay, it was closer than any of the other manifestations have ever gotten. I don’t know if I woke myself up screaming or whether Adam had to wake me up to shut me up, but all I know is that I was breathless and sweating and on the verge of tears. I could only apologise and try to go back to sleep despite still feeling terrified.

So what does this all mean? Is there some deep rooted fear of something that manifests itself in my sleep causing me to be an insomniac? Are the drugs responsible for the terrors? Is it just another symptom of CFS? Is this just the path my sleep problems are taking now I’m getting older, and will this continue to get worse? I don’t know and I’ll probably never have a real answer. I’ll just keep plodding on until whatever’s after me in my dreams either finally catches me, or I blow its fucking brains out with a dream shotgun.

This is the guy I saw hovering over me. What a bastard!

I have a sewing machine. To some this may not seem like a big deal, but to me it’s huge! I’ve been wanting a sewing machine for years but never got round to getting one. I used to play about with my Mam’s machine when I was younger but it was a very temperamental old girl that would only work for Mother. But now I have my very own that works like a dream! It has instructions and everything, so I now know what all the knobs and buttons mean, and what stitch type is for what job. So far I’ve made 2 cushion covers, a little pouch for my machine bits and a curtain. I would have made 2 curtains but I didn’t have enough fabric, hence the 2 cushion covers.

Since getting my machine, the husband has pretty much planned the next 6 months for me, turning me into his very own sweatshop worker. Apparently I’ll be making him jeans and trousers in every fabric available. He’s been sending me links to independent jeans companies, saying “Do this!”. I do have to remind him that I don’t even know if I can sew garments yet. But that doesn’t seem to discourage him much. He’s even gone so far as to design me a logo, which if I’m honest did get me a little excited too, but not sure I’ll be up to selling stuff standard for a long while.

My first real project though is to be a dress for my sister. We picked the pattern a few weeks ago; I went for one that was classed as VERY EASY so I shouldn’t really go wrong with it. I bought a large amount of heavy muslin to make a toile to be sure I’m not going to waste any fabric too, how professional eh?! The lace for the overlay arrived yesterday which got me rather excited. At first I was worried it would be too delicate for a heavy handed novice to work with but luckily the fabric feels much sturdier. And it’s very pretty, I’m almost jealous I’m making the dress for my sister and not for me, I just hope I get the measurements right…

So I’ll be posting pictures of the stuff I’ve made from time to time, on a new blog that I’m calling The House of Kitty Wake, see what you’s all think. I might start with a bag first as I have some rather smashing leopard print fabrics. So much to do with so few hours in the day!

It’s 2 weeks on from starting my new “beauty regime”. I know you’re all waiting with bated breath to find out how it’s going, so I’ll tell: good. At first I was cynical about the power of the potions and thought that they’d not work, but I’ll be the first to admit that I was wrong. Well not 100% wrong, it’s very rare that I am, some things have worked better than others but mostly things have made a difference. 

I know I’m not 30 yet and in terms of skin, my face doesn’t look like a wizened satsuma, so I wasn’t expecting to see or feel any change to it when using a night firming cream. Well I’ll be blown; it bloody well did tighten the skin on my face and neck up! I didn’t really feel any results for the first couple of days but then the magic started to happen. My skin is soft yet firm, like that of a peach or nectarine. Although I wouldn’t recommend trying to take a bite as I’m not sure you’re meant to ingest these unguents. The eye cream has definitely reduced the transparency of the skin under my eyes so you can’t see the deep blue of the veins underneath, so I don’t look like I’ve gone 10 rounds with Chris Brown any more. The exfoliating wipes have reduced the size of my pores significantly and make my skin feel refreshed after a long day. So all that has worked, now to the not so worked…

I had high hopes for the moisturiser with the hint of foundation. I was expecting it to be a subtle glow, however that wasn’t the case, I looked like Mr T. I may have put too much on or something because my skin had never looked so dark! My husband found this hilarious and kept checking to see if it had gotten darker, which worryingly it seemed to. To be honest, it did look like I’d been done up for some 1950’s minstrel show. Although that could be due to my skin being incredibly pale, some would say like alabaster, others like a corpse. Either way, I looked ridiculous. Plus it made my skin quite greasy so I bought a different moisturiser without colour or oil and now I’m much happier.

The lip plumping thing has worked in some regards and hasn’t in others. I bought another type that’s meant to be awesome and it worked amazingly well the first time I used it but now I don’t think it works any more. So I alternate between the 2 and cross my fingers it’s doing something. When I first tried out the second type I made the foolish mistake of putting it on shortly before going in the shower. I didn’t really think much of it until I started washing my face. I tried to be careful to not accidentally smudge it off my lips, which I thought I had done. But when the steam dissipated and the mirror became clear I quickly realised that I’d failed…miserably. My whole chin and around my nose and mouth was bright red, and sore! No amount of cooling cream reduced the redness; I still looked like I’d rubbed my face with nettles. As I was going out that night I had to use a fair bit of concealer and foundation to try and make me look less blotchy. It worked a bit but thankfully the bar had dim lighting so no one seemed to notice. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t work as well any more, my entire face being covered in it possibly reduced my skins reaction to it. That or I’ve killed all the nerve endings in my face. I’ll keep soldiering on with it though, I paid for the damn things so I’ll bloody well use them.

So there you go, my little pot of crazy is actually paying off. In 6 months time people will think it’s my 20th birthday rather than my 30th I’ll look so fresh faced. My husband does seem concerned I’m going to move on to cosmetic “procedures” if I carry on with this obsession of my mine, and I’ll admit that I have often wondered what I’d look like with a different nose…

Everyone seems to be counting down the days to Christmas. Whether it’s to celebrate the birth of the Baby Jesus or to celebrate the lovely time off work matters not. Well not to me it doesn’t, as the countdown is 2 fold for me. Christmas Day, the 25th December, marks exactly 6 months until my birthday. Normally it doesn’t really make a difference, other than giving people 6 months to think of something awesome to buy me, but not this year. You see, on Christmas Day the 6 month count down to my 30th birthday begins. Yep, the big 3-0. I’m not particularly bothered that I’m going to be 30, most of my friends have done it and survived, so the number isn’t a frightening prospect. What is though is the thought of waking up on the 25th of June and looking in the mirror and seeing my face covered in wrinkles.

I’ve always looked after my face; I moisturised every day since I was 14, always wear sun cream or hide in the shade, only wear make-up on evenings out, exfoliate regularly, drink lots of water etc etc. But the last few weeks I’ve been concerned that none of this will be enough to stave off the onset of the ageing process. In fact you could say I’ve been obsessing a little.  So much so I’ve bought myself a full skincare regime that’s supposed to help fight the “7 signs of ageing”. I have a day moisturiser that has a bit of foundation in to “even out my skin tone”, and eye cream that “provides an instant glow to skin all around the eyes and reduces puffiness”, and a night cream that “intensively hydrates the skin” and exfoliating cleansing wipes that “fight the signs of ageing”. And all these things are supposed to “reduce the look of lines and pores, even tone, brighten, smooth, hydrate and lock in moisture”, all at the same time. Sounds more like magic than science to me to be honest but I have the wrinkle fear and I’m willing to try anything to save my baby soft face.   And…I’m ashamed to say it…I bought a lip-plumping glossy treatment thing to make my lips less wrinkled. I even use an eye cream round my mouth and lips to help combat any damage I did whilst I was a smoker. I’m sure one of the “7 signs of ageing” that they’re trying to combat is the increase in disposable income ‘cause all this stuff don’t come cheap! I know I may as well have given my money to a snake oil salesman but I just on the off chance they work I’m willing to give them a try as I don’t want to look old! I don’t feel nearly 30, so why would I want to look it?

Yep, that’s right, I’m a twat.

So this South Beach diet seems to be going well. I’ve only been doing it for about 10 days and I’d say I’ve lost about 6lbs or more. My skinny jeans aren’t as tight and I have lost my double chin! Although I have just cut my hair shorter so that could just be an optical illusion. Anyway, the torturous part is over with now as the caffeine has finally left my system and the withdrawal symptoms are officially over! *PUNCH THE AIR AND SHOUT FUCK YEAH!*

Throughout my late teens, and now my adult life, I’ve been concerned about my weight. Most of the time that concern doesn’t lead to me doing anything about it, I just think about being fat whilst stuffing my face. I love food you see. From early childhood I can remember that we celebrated certain events with food.  For example Christmas; we’d have a huge Bacchanalian feast that would feed us for days. The house would be full of chocolates, cakes, crisps and biscuits. There’d always be the smell of roasted meats in the air with the heady spices of cinnamon and nutmeg greeting you as you when you came in from the cold. That for me is one of my earliest and favourite memories of food. So I suppose I then associated all food indulgences with celebrations, and thus leading down the slippery slope of making every day a celebration. And that made me fat.

I don’t really mind being chubby to be honest, I quite like having curves and a bit of wobble. I mean who doesn’t like jelly! What I don’t like is finding a lovely dress and seeing that, although it comes in XL, XL is a size 14. I mean in what universe is a size 14 an EXTRA LARGE?! That’s like saying a row boat is a cruise liner! No wonder society is obsessed with image and many vulnerable people are turning to eating disorders as they have a distorted view of their bodies, and of other peoples. I’m not going to pretend to know the answers because I don’t think anyone truly has them, all I know is it’s stupid and damaging and wrong. Not people with psychological eating disorders, they’re not stupid and damaging and wrong, the fashion industry, that’s stupid and damaging and wrong….

Anyway, the South Beach diet. It’s quite good, you get to eat a lot of protein which makes you feel fuller longer, and you can snack on nuts or low fat cheese. You can have ricotta puddings and sugar free jelly. I’ve even made little almond cakey cookie things that are lovely, but are made with ground almonds rather than flour, so are better for you (somehow). So for 2 weeks there’s no carbs allowed, which for someone who loves pasta, bread, cereal and potatoes it was quite a task. Now however, it’s fine, I don’t really miss them too much…except that one of my office-mates brought in mince pies today, fucking temptress. But I have vowed to stay “clean” until the end of Phase 1. The only concession is alcohol; I don’t think I’d have survived the weekend without alcohol to take the edge off the caffeine withdrawal. So that could have slowed my weight loss down somewhat but to be honest, I don’t really care. I’m losing weight because I want to, at a rate that’s comfortable, and on an “eating plan” that I can keep up for a very long time. Phase 2 is the time to reintroduce some carbs, but good ones. Like whole wheat pita bread and pasta, sweet potatoes instead of…erm, savoury potatoes. To be honest, it’s more about eating sensibly and limiting the amount of over processed foods I eat, so makes a lot of sense. I’m not even interested in the number of pounds or ounces that I’ve lost, I’m more interested in how my body feels and looks and once I get to where I’m happier with my shape, I’ll move on to Phase 3, maintaining.  I just need to watch the portions and not have carbs with every meal, or if I do they need to be good ones.

One of the unexpected, but very welcome affects of the diet so far is that my skin is incredible! I don’t know whether it’s the lack of caffeine, sugar or carbs or the weight loss that’s improved my skin but I’m certainly very happy about it. So for that alone I would happily recommend it. Also, I haven’t really felt hungry. That doesn’t mean I’m not eating though, put a plate of sautéed salmon, scallops, pepper and onion in front of me and I’ll wolf it down, but I won’t then need a snack later in the evening. So it seems like I’ve found my diet.

WARNING: Contains a fuck load of swearing and I’m not going to apologise for it. There, you have been warned.

Today’s edition I was intending to write about the diet I’ve started, but I’m going to have to leave that for another episode because all I’ve been able to write about is my lack of caffeine. So here you go.

This week I started a new diet, the “South Beach Diet”. It’s all about not eating bad carbs and shit like that whilst still eating lots of protein. It’s going alright in terms of food; the main issue I’m having at the moment is the total and complete lack of CAFFEINE! For 2 weeks I have to drink decaf! DECAF! I mean what’s the fucking point of drinking coffee if you don’t get the buzz right? It’s just brown sludge otherwise.

I honestly didn’t think it was going to be a problem because I’d be concentrating on eating weird shit and not eating sugar, but my God it’s been the worst 4 days of my life so far! (Yes it’s a massive exaggeration but don’t fucking push me right now!) Quitting smoking was way easier than this! I didn’t get twitchy legs and hands after just 24 hours without a tab, or a 3 day headache. I’ve even found it difficult to concentrate when people are talking to me coz my mind is just going on crazy trails to fuck knows where but it certainly isn’t paying attention to my boss. I must seem like a ignorant twat when having to ask the same question 4 times…IN A ROW! Seriously, what the fuck is going on?

Also, I’ve had this internal monologue running since about hour 12, which is basically just swear words, over and over, mixed with a few nouns and verbs, or just swear words as nouns and verbs. And it’s running at a million miles an hour. I thought things were supposed to slow down once the caffeine was out of my system, not speed up. I can hardly type fast enough to keep up with the constant flow of angry, expletive ridden nonsense that just keeps coming! Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I’m angry. I mean really FUCKING ANGRY! And not my usual grumpy-bastard-angry, proper rip-your-head-off-and-shit-down-your-neck-angry. I had a little melt down on day 2 over some pissy little argument and had to take myself off for a time-out. I was actually shouting, it was like an episode of Jeremy Kyle! Then, when I was at the bus stop in Headingley, surrounded by irritating wankers that didn’t seem to know how a fucking queue works, I had to go to the shop and buy Christmas decorations just to avoid the swearing under my breath getting too loud. I was starting to feel like one of those crazy drunks that argue with themselves.

And this is all over the lack of caffeine. It’s ridiculous! I just hope to God that this doesn’t last much longer coz I honestly feel like I’m going insane. I’m guessing this is how and why the 2 weeks of the strict Phase 1 works, you’re not bothered about not having bread or potatoes or crap like that, your brain is so focussed on not having the 1 stimulant it’s legally allowed during work hours, it slowly implodes under the pressure of keeping the motor running on its own. And no I don’t think I need to take a long hard look at the amount of caffeine I consume thank you very much, you try living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and then you can tell me I don’t need it! So fuck you!

Erm, that’s it I guess…

I was right about my costume, I was still sewing right down to the wire! But it was worth it in the end, we won a prize! Not sure what the prize was though, I’d had to drink through a straw to save my make-up coming off, so I ended up getting VERY drunk. We went to the FAB Cafe’s legendary Halloween party, and as ever it was fantastic. The costumes this year have by far been the best yet.

So here’s some pictures of my, my husbands and my best friend’s costumes. The idea I came up with was that we’d be the steam punk versions of the Cheshire Cat (me), the White Rabbit (Adam) and the Caterpillar (Rachael). I think we did a nice job! Plus there’s a comic book in the offing now.

Here’s what we did:

I wore green harem cargo pants which looked rather like cat legs, a khaki army shirt, brown suede strapped boots, brown pleather flying jacket (which I didn’t wear as it was too darn hot), brown pleather buckled waistcoat, cat paws, flying helmet and flying goggles and accessories. I made and modified most of my costume, the only things that remained exactly as I bought them were my flying goggles, flying jacket and my shirt. I made my waist coat, gun holsters, tail, paws and ears. I modified my flying helmet to attach the ears and make it lie better on my head. I added the tail to the trousers, with a nifty little holder for my tail to keep it out of the way. I also added daggers to my boots. I painted some Nerf darts to look more like bullets, bright orange just isn’t a look too many people can carry off. My husband painted my 2 Nerf Mavericks and his Nerf Longstrike to look much more steam punk and attractive.

Adam wore a cream army shirt, cream chinos, army tie, army mosquito puttees (things to cover the ankles in tropical climates), brown boots and welding goggles atop his pith helmet, sash belt, pistol holster and white gloves. Of his costume I made a couple leather pouches for his belt, and his sash belt. I modified his rabbit ears so they’d fit under his pith helmet and he became a lop-eared rabbit, and added some pleather to his puttees (that you can’t see). He made a pleather holster for his pistol.

We used prosthetics for our animal faces (we don’t look like that normally) and I had fangs. I was going to wear cat-eye contact lenses but turns out my left eye rejects them! We then applied good old-fashioned face paint. I also painted my hair which worked brilliantly.

Rachael wore a beautiful cheongsam, long black opera gloves, green tights for her arms, lovely long false eyelashes, a green monocle and painted her face a lovely shade of green. You can’t see the dots and details she’d done on her face make-up which looked really effective. She also brought a couple bottles of rather nifty looking poison!

So there you go, Halloween 2011 over with. I enjoyed every minute of making my costume, even when it got frustrating. The party was the best yet too. Can’t wait for next year, there’s only 362 days to prepare, blink and you’ll miss it!

Halloween is nearly upon us. And, just like every year I try to make an impressive costume, I left it till the last minute. I’ll be sewing and sticking and painting until mere minutes before we’re due to get ready. I don’t know how I’ve managed it this year, I knew what I was going to do on November 1st 2010 and have been piecing the bits together that I can’t make myself since January. I thought I was being so organised, but turns out I was actually being proper lazy!

Although I like to dress up and celebrate Halloween, I don’t particularly like it when the local kids come knocking at our door. Not the little kids that really make an effort and enjoy getting a little bag of Haribo (if Adam hasn’t eaten them all) and a little scare. It’s the teenage ones, where only one of them wears an old Scream mask, and they all stand there with their hands out. They’re not embracing the frivolity that is Halloween, they’re not getting into the spirit of things (get it!). I’ve even had a cheeky little sod ask for money instead of sweets! If you’re not going to make an effort you don’t deserve our gelatinous treats.

I used to love Trick or Treating when I was little. We’d never venture far from our street and half of them didn’t answer the door, but the 6 year old me was giddy with excitement. We’d knock on a door and wait with growing anticipation as to what might be on the other side. I remember one year we knocked on the door a few houses down from us and the grown ups there had set up an apple bobbing game. This had never happened before and was thrilling, I must’ve gone back about 4 times to play! But I don’t think they ever did it again or it was the last Halloween I Tricked or Treated as I don’t remember it happening again. 

In terms of costumes, as a kid I might have been a cat once, but it was mainly witches. A witch’s costume tended to consist of a cardboard hat, shop bought if we were very lucky, and a bin bag for a cape or dress. It was so simple yet I would get extremely excited at the thought of being transformed into a beast of legend! Maybe by some fluke of nature I’d attain the real powers of a witch and go about casting spells on the houses of people that didn’t answer the door, or turn my sweet stealing big sister into a toad.

I think that’s why I love Halloween; it allows your imagination run wild and become a kid again. Delight in surprising others and being surprised in return. Halloween parties seem to be the time when everyone lets their guard down, they don’t have to hide behind a pretence of cool and embrace the silly, the weird or the scary. Costumes don’t have to be detailed, expensive, complicated or perfect. A homemade outfit can be just as effective as a shop bought one. Personally I enjoy making costumes, creating or modifying things when putting a look together. I love seeing the idea I’ve had in my head take shape. (This year my costume has led me to write the first draft of a comic book!) Making a costume can be a dangerous process, but each wound collected is worn like a badge of honour. I think I must enjoy leaving it till the last minute, as it builds the tension and excitement of whether it’ll look good or even be ready in time.  But I love it whether it’s an epic win or a massive fail, it’s all part of the fun.

I’ve just got back from a fantastic holiday to Spain! The weather was amazing and the villa was fabulous! I even managed to get a tan, which is very strange for me as I’m paler than milk and my skin actively reflects the sun as far away from me as possible. Seriously, I can get sunburned just by watching “A Place in the Sun”! I won’t bore you with the rest of the holiday, so I’ll get to the point; excess baggage.

I always take too many clothes away on holiday and wear hardly any of them, and this time was no exception. I brought back about 35 tops that I never wore, and a further 9 tops I bought whilst out there (1 of which was a lovely thick Hello Kitty jumper, bought in 40oC heat!). I was worried I’d be over the baggage limit going, but luckily I was 1kg under the limit; so coming back with more stuff was a bit more worrying but thankfully I was spot on.  Every year is the same; spend pretty much every day in and by the pool (I swam 6 miles in total don’t you know) then put proper clothes on for dinner if we’re going out or just throw on my poolside casuals if we’re bbq-ing. So why do I insist that I’ll need 45 changes of clothes depending on the weather, where we’re going, if this top goes with those shoes, whether I’ll be wearing heels or flats, if the King is in residence or there’s a meteor shower? It’s stupid! Maybe subconsciously I’m taking the weight limit as a challenge, I mean if they didn’t want us to take that much stuff they wouldn’t have such a high maximum would they? *whistles innocently* I always promise myself that the next time I’ll be more sensible and only take what I really need and will likely wear. I’m a total liar because I know it’ll be the same scenario next year! It isn’t doing my carbon footprint any good that’s for sure! I should feel guilty for all those singing and dancing penguins I’m killing off, but what’s one extra pair of wedges and a shawl weigh really…