I’ve hardly updated this blog for the last few months – not because I don’t know what to write about, but because what’s been going on hasn’t been my story to write – and the people that I love don’t need to read about their lives through my eyes on these pages. But those same people need distractions and so I’m back, by parental demand.
In a nutshell, I’ve still been buying shoes (including the shiny happy sparkly boots that arrived in a big parcel of happiness yesterday), I’ve still been going to the gym (well, not quite so much as I should have been) and I’m still enjoying a glass of wine or two.
Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits and I have bought bicycles (electric bikes with power assisted pedalling – so that we can race each other uphill), and well, we’re growing middle-aged disgracefully. I bought a sensible-ish folding one, but he went for a mountain bike with suspension, just because he could. His bike looks as cool as all hell but my one is way quicker from a standing start (as we discovered doing a mini grand prix in our local supermarket car park).
I’ve been to summer barbecues, wedding receptions, and have been camping in the Cotswolds. I’ve laughed and cried like no other time in my life and endeavour to be a better person, to let the people I love and who love me, know that they are always in my thoughts.
Life is way too short, but enjoy it in every way you can. Now, I’m off to ride my byocycle, I’m off to ride my bike…
The first pretties didn’t last long and they’ve been returned as faulty 😦
Fear not, my intrepid fabulous shoe finding abilities prevailed and I found myself with a pair of these little lovelies:
Can’t imagine that I’ll be running for the bus anytime soon in them, but they do look divine.
With the beginnings of a pale-skinned golden glow I’ve decided to embrace this summer’s ice-cream pastels.
I’m loving these little beauties – comfortable, cute and practical – albeit I sound like an excited Shetland pony at anything above sauntering pace – clogs do not allow for ninjaesque stealth skills.
pretty in pink
I’ll be teaming them with this baby pink cropped blazer – let’s hope the sunshine lasts longer than my patience!
pretty in pink
I have seven little bites, Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits has twenty-one rather angry ones and this has turned him into Mr Itchy McScratchy. I know he has twenty-one because I counted them after a mammoth scratching session. Most of them are clustered on his upper body, although he does have a particularly fruity one on his rump (and no, I don’t have any pictures of that one)!
You’d think that two Scots would know better, that an idyllic lake-side view with an open bedroom window is just asking for trouble. But, as we weren’t on holiday on the west coast of Scotland, midge control was far from our minds as we went down to a wine induced sleep blissfully unaware of what we were doing to ourselves.
I was rudely awakened at 4am by Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits apologising as he switched on lights and morphed into The Naked Mosquito Hunter. It was quite the sight I can tell you. The walls were soon smeared in our own blood as mosquito after mosquito fell to his dextrous hands. We thought we had got them all and tried to settle down to sleep once again, but I was buzzed once more and leapt shrieking from the bed. And there we were, Mosquito Massacre part deux.
In the morning, we were comparing bites to blood-smeared walls and believed we must have got them all. Alas, this was not the case. Some sneakily smart blighters went commando on us and waited until we were asleep the next night too as we awoke to more bites than we’d gone to bed with.
Luckily, I had packed enough anti-histamines for both of us which managed to reduce the itching if not the bites themselves.
The very last hotel we stayed at had fly screens on the windows so you could sleep with the windows open without being feasted upon – talk about too little too late.
Note to self for next trip, pack some insect repellant.
Safely back in Brizzle with a mournful lament at leaving The Alps behind us and an alarming amount of washing it’s back to life as we know it. Reality hit hard with an 06:40 alarm call for Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits as he headed off to film in some spectacularly unglamorous location.
And, in between loading and unloading the washing machine, I thought I would update you on how well these little beauties did. They safely jogged across Schipol Airport to meet a rather tight connection; they gazelle-like leapt on and off hop-on-hop-off city bus tours; they were nimbly secure up and down the 700 steps (some of which at a 45 degree angle) of the Eisriesenwelt Ice Caves; they were sure footed on the snowy tips of the Grossglockner mountain range; and most of all, they made me smile every time I did something mildly energetic.
I’m not saying that they should replace my hiking boots, but if you’re already used to stomping around the world in impractical footwear you can’t beat these. They were in my top three holiday in the rainy Alps hero items – the other two included my lightweight cream North Face jacket (I needed both windproof and waterproof) and my large leather Boden bag with built-in iPad pocket and security purse. If only we’d packed some insect repellant – more of that on a later post…
…28 mosquito bites later
Well, Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits and I are half way through our 10 day trip around Austria.
We’ve experienced culture in Vienna; kitschness & lederhosen in Graz; schnapps & stuffed marmosets up Grossglockner; detours & landslides around Innsbruck; coffee, cake and hills alive with the sound of music in Salzburg; and now we’re in the idyllic Salzkammergut region.
We’ve got a few more days exploring to go – ice caves a go go and more alpine villages than you can shake a cow bell at. And that’s without an endless supply of Mozart balls.
It may have been stressful getting here but, boy, are we enjoying ourselves.
Will post again once back in Blighty.
You’ve got to ask yourself with less than 4 days to go – is going on holiday actually worth it?
It will be, but right around this time you think you’re going mad. Mad as a bucket of frogs to be precise. It all gets a bit overwhelming – bills need to be paid, the washing and ironing need to be up-to-date, getting the right amount of food in the fridge is a black art and you want to change your bed linen so that you have a lovely clean bed to come back to. And that’s just at home – the countdown at work is worse, appraisals and 1:1 meetings need to be held, interviews for new posts need to be conducted, paperwork needs to completed and filed, and handover meetings on key projects must be prioritised.
And I still need to pluck, preen and pedicure my way into holiday mode. I also need a manicure and if I can fit it in, a visit to the hairdresser to cover up those sneaky grey strands that have so very conveniently reappeared this morning.
So if anyone asks me if I’m looking forward to my break, the answer on Wednesday evening when all of this is done will be a resounding “yes”, but until then I’ll be running around like an idiot making sure everything’s done. And probably swearing, under my breath admittedly, but swearing nonetheless.
My mantra for the next few days, “Going on holiday is fun, no really, it is”.