Does this even count as a holiday?!

We moved into our house in December 2016, so we’ve been in around 6 months. It was purchased by the previous owner in around 2014 at auction. By all accounts it was a wreck, as the owner before them had been an elderly person who confined themselves to a couple of rooms and was a heavy smoker. So the ‘new’ owners had to gut most of the house, replaster, repaint, fit a new kitchen and fit a new bathroom. So we purchased it in a very good state.
However, as it was essentially  purchased as a ‘flip’, everything is very basic and neutral . Literally every wall is the same ‘very close to but off-white’, all the carpets are beige, the down stairs is laminate and the kitchen and bathroom are both reasonably basic. At first we found this minimalism relaxing, but we’ve started to want to put ‘our stamp’ on it.


Our beige house.

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My New Dress

I spent Monday morning waiting in for a dress delivery. I have been coveting this dress for almost a year and then, as if by fate, it went on sale a month before a wedding that we are attending- which meant that I could persuade Louis that is was necessity. So yes, I sat in waiting all morning. Mid-morning, I got a text from Louis asking how the dress was. I told him that it hasn’t arrived yet, he then told that he had received an email from Hermes saying that it had been delivered. At this point, me being me, I panicked thinking they had put it an recycling bin or up a tree or some other place that is only logical to delivery drivers – you read stories. My precious dress. In a tree. I’d been working upstairs so I ran down the stairs like a loon. And they had put it through the letterbox! My special dress. Through the letter box. The letter box. Like, I’m sat upstairs working daydreaming debating whether I should put it in a dress bag to get it to Norfolk. And it’s sticking through my letter box like an electricity bill. Continue reading

My Afternoon.

Sometimes it actually is the simple things.
I’m a firm believer in ‘Money may not buy happiness, but I’d rather cry in a jaguar than on a bus’. I know that money isn’t that important – I’ve lived the last few years of my life as student, having fun with my boyfriend (as he was at that time) and eating the same meal for weeks on end.

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Sausage Legs

Hotdog Legs is one of this last year’s big social media trends. The Beautiful People of Instagram have such toned and tanned legs, that us plebeians apparently can’t tell the difference between their legs and hotdogs.

Hotdogs or legs?!

I, on the other hand, have incredibly pale, slightly hairy legs, with a hint of croc in the background and bruises from errant dogs.
Or, ‘Sausage Legs’ as the husband call it.

sausage legs

Sausage Legs