Christmas with the Wellingtons

Christmas went just as quickly as it came this year. I still have an entire jar of home-made candy cane vodka in the kitchen and suddenly it seems as though the moment has already passed for festive flavoured drinks. (Don't worry I will not let it go to waste.)

The week before Christmas was somewhat stressful. I was determined to fit in as many festive-themed activities as I possibly could in an attempt to pin down the Christmas spirit, but it did not go to plan.

The Blur that was my 2014!

Generally speaking, 2014 has been a weird year for me. For a start, it went so quickly that my head is still spinning, but I have no real idea of what I've done in the last 12 months to show for it. In 2013 I took up blogging, had a bizarre overseas romance, partied with elves, went on more spontaneous nights out than any one person has a right to do in the course of a single year, and travelled Europe, just off the top of my head.

Dear Santa...

Christmas is coming at high-speed, regardless of whether or not I'm ready for it. And right now I'm really not. But it's about time I did a Christmas-themed post so I thought I'd steal an idea I saw on fiveleveninety, a blog I follow mostly because I like to live vicariously through Riley, the author. She can do long distance running while I can't even jog for three minutes without falling over, she's still in college while I'm stuck in a boring post-uni world of taxes and living with my parents, and it snows where she lives while here it just rains. Constantly.

How to Survive a Break-Up: Part 2

If you’ve read the first part of my Break-Up Survival Guide then you should, by now, be confident in your ability to navigate the initial horror of heartbreak with as little ice-cream consumption and drunk-dialling as possible. In that post I talked you through the initial stages of a break-up, from diving into an easy-to-construct pit of despair to finally accepting the fact that if they were really all that great they wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let you go in the first place.

This post is all about how to create a fabulous new single life for yourself, like a fashion-forward phoenix rising from the ashes.

How to Survive a Break-Up

Break-ups are never easy. Even truly dire relationships require time for mourning once they’re over. (Trust me, I’ve been there.) You’re entitled to feel as though the earth is crumbling around you when someone you care about suddenly stops being a part of your life. Tears must be shed, walls must be punched and, eventually, expensive clothing he had the audacity to leave at your house must be burned.

Car-tastrophe! Hot Doctors, Whiplash and Plenty of Stress.

I know I've been Missing in Action for a while and I apologise. I've been stretched to my limits over the past few weeks trying to organise the new business. Who would have thought being a full-time princess would take up so much time and energy? And, to make matters even more stressful, I've been sharing my car with my parents for almost two weeks now. Few things are less comfortable than being forced to sit in the back seat of your own car. Except, of course, if you have a Peugeot 206 cc. That's even less comfortable due to the fact that the back seat is only really big enough for a very small child. Or a chihuahua.

But, unfortunately, my parents' car got towed away in a very sad state after a car crash, which mangled the entire back end of the car, potentially traumatised Lauren for life and, above all, ruined my plans for the evening.

It was a Thursday afternoon and, by some cruel twist of fate, I had been forced to go to the Harvester with my mother and the children after school. I loathe the Harvester. Even if we put aside the fact that every time I've been there my food has been tasteless and disturbingly soggy, there's something about an all you can eat salad bar that does not sit well with me. Perhaps it's the thought of refrigerated beetroot or perhaps it's because, having been there with Lauren, I've witnessed how easy it is for a small child to lick the giant spoon used to serve the blue cheese dip without anyone noticing. Whatever the reason, I was looking forward to putting thoughts of questionable coleslaw behind me and heading off to my yoga class that evening.

Unfortunately, I never made it to yoga.

On the way home Ellis sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the back with Lauren. They were arguing about who could think of the most words beginning with the letter F. Ellis was coming out with 'frustration', 'fusion', 'fraction'. Lauren, on the other hand, was listing things along the lines of "Frozen castle", "Frozen Elsa", "Frozen Arendelle".

It was rainy and dark and it was rush hour. The motorway was packed. For some reason the driver in front slammed on her breaks and my mother couldn't slow down in time. We all screamed (admittedly I screamed the loudest and for longest) as we bumped into the back of the car in front. I had time to think, "Oh wow, we hit it" before the car behind went into the back of us with full force. Apparently she hadn't seen us so she hadn't even put on her breaks.

There were a few moments of stunned silence (and total agony through my entire back) before the scene erupted into chaos. And then there I was, standing on the side of the motorway in the rain, looking at what was left of the boot of my parents' car with a screaming child in my arms. Lauren was hysterical.

"Where are the police?" She screamed, sobbing into my neck.
"Don't worry about it darling. We're all alright."
"No, I want to talk to the police! I want to talk to them right now!"
Goodness knows what she intended to say to them.

Ellis, on the other hand, stayed put in the front of the car, listening to the radio and happily surveying the scene. He was the calmest one of us all!

Then, as if things weren't dramatic enough, another group of cars crashed just a little way up the motorway from us. Before long the hard-shoulder was packed with half a dozen cars, all looking rather worse for wear, two ambulances, a police car and a screaming five year old, still demanding to speak to the police.

And so, at just about the time when I should have been working on my downward-facing dog, I found myself in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Lauren had cheered up considerably by this time and was asking the paramedic a thousand and one questions.
"What does that button do?"
"Why is that tissue blue?"
"Why is Ellis sitting on a bigger chair than me?"
"Why are you sitting like that?"
"Are you going to put one of those tubes in my arm?"
And, as if I hadn't been through enough already that evening, my phone died in the middle of a Snapchat conversation. That was worse than the back pain!

When we got to the hospital, Ellis had to be put onto a stretcher because his wheelchair was crushed inside the boot of the car back on the side of the motorway. Naturally Lauren insisted on wheeling him through the hospital, happy to mow down anyone who got in her way. She steered him into the wall a few times, but eventually we made it into the paediatrics unit with no further injuries.

When the doctor finally arrived to check the children over (Ellis had hurt his back and Lauren was insisting that absolutely everything was hurting, despite the fact that was alternatively crawling around on the floor and climbing up onto Ellis' hospital bed) I couldn't believe my eyes. He was gorgeous! I couldn't help wishing I'd taken a few moments during the ambulance ride to reapply my lipstick!

So Dr Gorgeous examined the children and did his best to fend off Lauren as she tried to climb up his legs (she is just as partial to a handsome man as I am. Thankfully I have slightly more self-control) and I was inwardly cursing the harsh hospital lighting, which was doing nothing for my already drained and pale complexion.

That's when the handsome doctor referred to me as Ellis and Lauren's mother. Really?! Either I look so young that I have to produce my driving licence to buy a scratch card or I look old enough to be a mother of two children. It can't be both! I mean, I know the lighting was anything but flattering, but come on!

The children were given the all clear, despite Lauren's best attempts to convince the doctor that she was in agony, whilst simultaneously trying to swat him with a book. Then he asked if my mother and I were injured at all, which triggered a great deal of inner conflict. My back and neck were still hurting, but I had foolishly ignored my grandmother's wise advice of always wearing matching underwear in case you're ever hit by a bus. True I'd only been hit by a three door car, but there was still a chance I'd be forced to expose the fact that I was wearing mismatched lingerie. Of all the days to opt for comfort!

Luckily, after a few quick questions, I was able to bypass an x-ray and keep my pink pants hidden. If only Dr Gorgeous could have done me the favour of not mentioning 'possible incontinence' I would have escaped the hospital without any further mortification. I guess you can't win them all.

Despite the total destruction of my parents' car, an evening spent flitting between horror and humiliation, and a missed yoga class, things really weren't as bad as they could have been. My back is still very painful (and my neck makes a disturbing clicking sound when I look to the right), but no one was badly hurt. The woman in the car in front had barely any damage to her vehicle and was able to drive away from the accident with no problems. The woman behind had obviously squashed the front of her car by going into us with such force, but neither of them were hurt and that's the main thing. Yes, my favourite lipstick was in the car when the garage came to tow it away, but, that great loss aside, we were all very lucky.