Forgot I had these – they were hiding in my shoe cupboard at work – hooray!
If ever there was a condiment that divides households, it’s marmite.
Now, I love the stuff, especially on toast. In fact, one of the only things I miss about regular travelling is that I now can’t justify going into Starbucks at omg o’clock and ordering a skinny latte with a cheese & marmite breakfast panini. It’s a great way to start the day.
Now, as everyone knows, marmite is a love it or hate it taste sensation, it’s not one of those flavours that you can take or leave – nobody is ever sanguine about the absorption of marmite.
Now, Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits positively detests marmite – its very existence is abhorrent to him. One of the biggest declarations of love from himself was a recent event, he had watched me eat some marmite on toast, walked over and swept me up in a passionate embrace, tongues and all. He didn’t dry heave, he didn’t pull away, he didn’t immediately rinse his mouth out, we were simply of the moment. Now, that’s what I call romance.
These beauties from Boden – http://www.boden.co.uk/en-GB/Womens-Shoes-Boots/Wedges/AR577-TAN/Womens-Tan-Colourblock-Wedges.html – are seeing me safely through the summer. I can’t express how comfortable they are, they have a slightly cushioned in sole which make them feel more like trainers than anything else. I have two pairs of these in different colours and they’ve barely been off my feet. What’s not to like? They give me some much needed height – but aren’t too high that walking downhill becomes precarious.
If I had to pick a style of shoe that would be my all time favourite – it would be wedges. I have a few pairs of 5 inchers – they look beautiful on, but I do need to be on the straight and narrow when I’m wearing them. It’s the dip at the front of the platform that’s pretty vertiginous when you’re going downhill – and don’t even try to take on a significant camber, at least without clinging onto a lamp-post on your merry way round the bend.
Some days I just skip out of bed – I love those days – today is one of them. Well, when I say skip, I mean more of a jaunty jump.
It’s the sunshine, I’m not used to it. Give me another week of this weather and I may even be able to acclimatise – another week like this, that’s crazy talk. What do we think this is? The summer of 1976 or something.
The good thing about this heat though is that I can eat crisps completely guilt free – I need to get salt back into my body and I think you’ll find that a lovely packet of salt n’ vinegar is a very efficient way to do it. In a way, I’m following medical advice.
I have a small aversion to spiders, in our household we call them mini monsters. Not a phobia, I don’t run screaming from the room, but I would really prefer that they were invisible. I know that they are wonderful little creatures, and keep all sorts of other beasties at bay, but I would prefer to live my life without co-habiting with any of them.
Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits comes home tomorrow – he won’t be worrying tonight about the mess, or the domestic appliances that may have blown up whilst he’s been away (there have been a few) – he’ll be more concerned about coming home to some kind of arachnidarium
He’s never recovered from his homecoming from an extended trip 10-15 years ago. It was a hot summer, just like this one, and we had wooden floors throughout our lower floor. Large spiders liked our house, and that summer we were spider catnip.
Now, Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits is our chief spider catcher – and I love him dearly for that amongst other talents. However, he had been gone for 3 weeks – and we were averaging about 5 spiders a week. I’m not talking the cute little money spiders, I’m talking large bodies, very long legs, and very very noticeable whilst scurrying across the floor.
I discovered that I could catch them easily enough by putting a glass over them, but that’s as much as I could bear. He walked into our living room to find that I had used every glass we owned (and had bought many more) to capture the blighters. You had to walk carefully around them in some kind of weaving motion, to make your path through to the kitchen, where there were more.
He was gobsmacked – I explained that I couldn’t sleep if they were loose, but that once I’d caught them, I couldn’t move them or put them outside.
So, tonight, on the eve of his return home, I think he’ll be more worried about that kind of homecoming.
My significant other, herewith Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits, has been away adventuring for nearly 2 weeks and he’s due home tomorrow – hooray. I can’t wait to see him, but I do have a lot to do before he gets back. He likes tidiness, order and serenity – I’m on the chaotic side of the organised spectrum.
In short, stuff needs doing.
The cupboards are bare, the ironing pile is taller than I am, and socks to do not pair themselves. But it’s fine, I have a plan – and if the plan fails, I have gin.
- Tidy away jewellery (currently abandoned on kitchen worktop)
- File paperwork
- Start ironing tonight
- Drink gin (as a reward)
- Wash up
- Pair socks
- Another bout of ironing
- Go to supermarket
- Finish ironing
On his arrival, I can then squeal with excitement and give him a huge hug whilst simultaneously emitting an air of nonchalance.
This is a good plan in theory. I hope I complete the tasks in order, I have been known to head straight to gin o’ clock. Then all I have is a sheepish smile and some devilish dimples.
The only bad aspect of summer is that your body turns high maintenance overnight.
Gone are the protective layers of clothing & every limb being fully covered. Overnight we need to be silky smooth, glossy & glamazonian.
It’s hard work – we may as well admit it. There’s always something that needs attention – an area needing to be tweezed, waxed, exfoliated, buffed – and that’s without the endless battle to stay moisturised.
No wonder we get hot & bothered.
There was a gentle debate at work today regarding how many bikinis one of the girls was packing for her week long, caribbean holiday. She has seven bikinis, and has decided that she needs to pack at least four of them.
A male colleague was visibly horrified, “why would you need four, surely one would do, two if you wanted a choice?”. The intake of breath from the female contingent was audible.
I’ve travelled a lot through work over the last seven years, and have learned the art of packing through trial and error. The key to packing is a good list – and a good capsule wardrobe – I only buy things that mix and match. I make a list of items I want to take, I then make a list of outfits for each day, usually decided by which shoes I want to take. I then whittle it down to the right combination – which flip flops and wedges go with most outfits. It works for me every time, but I do need time to plan it. My worst nightmare is a panic pack.
My other half has a simpler method, he simply counts the number of t-shirts and shorts he needs and packs them (adds a few for emergencies) – job done. It works for both of us. We can usually go away for a week long trip with one check-in bag and a small carry on each. If we can’t – it means I’ve overdone it.