A Princess Perfect Frozen Party...and Some Woman in a Wig.

The Littlest Loon turned five last week and, as a family, Wellingtons are not known for throwing low key, run of the mill celebrations. I attempted to throw a small, casual gathering for my birthday last September and ended up with a full blown Alice in Wonderland extravaganza  ("I want it to feel like an opium trip...lots of clocks and giant mushrooms..."). So it seemed only natural that I would spend the weeks leading up to Lauren's birthday battling with the glue gun, brushing glitter out of my hair and running around town trying to find a life-sized Olaf balloon to put together a Frozen themed party fit for a princess.

The party itself was a roaring success. True, there was a brief period at the start when things looked a little rocky. Lauren worked out how to use the smoke machine and, within a few minutes, you couldn't see from one side of the room to the other. Then the smoke alarms went off and the rest of the building started to evacuate. Right in the midst of the piercing shrieks of the fire alarm, the Elsa impersonator turned up and added an entirely new dimension of weirdness to the scene. Her yellow wig was off centre and her black bra was on show. Overall, I'm not sure anyone was convinced she was really the Queen of Arendelle.

"I'm not sure anyone was convinced..."

But, once we'd deactivated the smoke alarms, opened all the doors and windows to let out the fog, and 'Elsa' had left the building, things really picked up. We had all the usual children's party games, pass the parcel and musical statues. Then we brought out the karaoke, which was simply adorable right up until the third or fourth time I had to listen to another rendition of Let it Go. There were happy children everywhere and, after the last little one headed off with their party cone and a big grin on her face, I was more than happy to take a deep breath, relax into a chair and have a Jack Daniels. Who would have thought organising a fifth birthday party could be so stressful?


Anyway, I thought I'd show you some of the little bits and pieces I put together for the party in case any of you are planning a Frozen themed party of your own and want a few ideas. Most of the decorations I made were put together with things I already had around the house so be creative. In this instance anything with glitter is probably going to work just fine. 

I rushed this sign yesterday morning right before we went to the party and it's taken me until just now to realise I'd spelled Arendelle wrong (I knew it didn't look right!). Luckily most of our guests can't read very well yet so I think it went undetected for the most part.  

 I loved these little jars! I made three of them and each was slightly different. They were very simple to make, although quite time consuming. I made some very small tissue pom poms (instructions can be found on Google), glued them to some ice blue straws and embellished them with glitter and sparkly ribbon. I cut some snowflakes out of plain white card (who knew snowflakes were so hard to draw?) and added some gems and glitter and stuck them to the straws too. I made the little snowmen out of little white pom poms and coloured wooden craft sticks. Then I added some ribbon and sparkles to glass jars, stuffed them with cotton wool and arranged the decorations inside. 

I wish we had a better picture of the snow doorway, but you get the idea. The kids loved it (although by the end of the party it looked less like a flurry and more like the aftermath of a blizzard). I just threaded cotton wool balls of various sizes onto fishing wire. With the glue gun I secured each ball with a dot of glue underneath so they wouldn't slide back down the wire. Then I attached each length of fishing wire to ribbon, which we then pinned to the door frame so guests had to walk through the snow to enter the party.

These little food signs were easy to make and really emphasized the theme. It's essentially folded card that looks fancy because I added glittery snowflakes and cut it with a craft scissors. Sometimes the simplest things look the most effective.

I piped faces and buttons onto these marshmallows with writing icing. I never want to see another marshmallow for as long as I live, but the kids really loved them.

 

The Sven cupcakes were a big hit! All I did was ice my cupcakes with chocolate butter-cream, use mini marshmallows for the noses, iced on the eyes and mouths with writing icing and used cut up Curly Wurlys for the antlers.

Then my sister-in-law amazed everyone by making a three tier birthday cake. True, it's got nothing on Cake Boss, but considering she just picked up some icing and thought, 'I think I'll make Lauren's cake myself' I think it's fabulous! I thought cupcakes were stressful, but this is something else entirely!

Needless to say, it's going to be a while before I can bring myself to watch Frozen again. I'm still finding glitter in my shoes and last night, after weeks of stressful planning and late night glue-gunning, I slept for a solid twelve hours without any party related nightmares for the first time in a while. But Princess Lauren had a fabulous time and overall I'd call it a success. 

Now to plan my birthday party for next weekend. I've been pre-warned by my mother that this year all themes are banned...

The Job Hunt

Once upon a time I worked in a Call Centre. Customers swore at me and made me cry and I was gulping down Kalms as if they were Skittles on a daily basis. But I look back at that time in my life with a kind of wonder. Back then I had a monthly income. True, I also had no self-esteem and a great many nights where I woke up screaming about PPI, but I had money for YSL make up and Cosmopolitans and an endless amount of shoes. Three years later I have a BA, a great gaping hole in my bank balance and no job on the horizon.

I knew the job market wasn't great, but I didn't think a girl with my qualifications and infectious laugh (scrap that, it’s more of a cackle) would be finding it so difficult. I haven’t limited my options. I’ve applied for waitressing, admin, retail, secretarial…true I didn't apply for the grave-digging job my friend went for, but you have to draw the line somewhere. But, if nothing else, I've come away from my various failed interviews with experience…and something to write about.

The first interview I went to was for a sales position for a high end beauty brand. I sent off my CV, highlighting my sales experience and beauty channel on Youtube (I knew they’d want a girl who knew her way around an eyeshadow palette). A few weeks later, joy of joys, I was invited to an interview. At this point I genuinely thought it was in the bag so long as I could get my hair to lie flat on the day of the interview.

But when I rounded the corner of the department store on the day of my interview, I couldn't believe what I saw. Over a hundred girls were queueing up outside the door, all dressed in black. Either there’d been a tragedy in the shoe department or we had all showed up for the same interview. I joined the queue, prayed my feet would last in my new shoes, and looked around in despair at the hordes of girls. Faces all around with kohl eyes, red lips and hair that was lying flat. That day I queued for 2 hours and 15 minutes for my interview. Soon the queue was wrapped right the way around the side of the shop. On at least four occasions people approached me to ask if the shop was doing a giveaway.

But eventually it was my turn. It was worryingly similar to the kind of quizzes you get in magazines for teen girls. I kid you not when I say that at the end the interviewer added up a score to see if I’d passed or not. I did. I’d be called back for a follow up interview…some time between April and June. After wasting an entire morning and getting blisters on my feet, all I had was a vague promise that, some time in the future (no one knew when) I could come back to try and impress them all over again. My nine year old nephew runs his loom-band business better than that!

Then there was the job I attempted to apply for in the new coffee shop in town. The manager didn't look pleased when I turned up.

“I have got a job going, but, to be honest, I really need someone older who has experience and isn't going to just work here for six weeks and then quit. I don’t want people wasting my time. I’ve had enough people wasting my time.”

“Oh…well I know I look young,” (10:1 he thought I was in secondary school) “But I’m a lot older than I look and I…”

“Yeah, but I need someone who knows how to run the place. I've had people in here who can’t even turn the coffee machine on. If you haven’t got experience don’t even bother. I won’t even read the CV.”

“Actually, I've worked in a coffee shop before. I know how everything works and…”

“Yeah, but the thing is I've already hired and fired seven people. I just don’t want people wasting my time.”

“Ok…so do you have an application form or…?”

“No.”

I'm not entirely sure whether that counts as a failed interview or whether it’s just an indication of how strange some people in Port Talbot can be.

Then there are issues with my qualifications. Because, what they don’t tell you when you’re revising for your GCSEs is that it’s possible to look too smart in a CV.

“I know you got an A in Maths, but we do everything on the calculator here anyway so it won’t do you any favours.”

“I’ve seen your qualifications. But this job isn’t rocket science, you know.”

And so the job hunt continues and my treasured student life seems all the more fabulous by comparison. Instant noodles and mouldy bedrooms beat this job hunting malarkey any day. 

From Public Pools to the Royal Treatment

Everything suddenly came to a screeching halt. No new blog posts, no new Youtube videos, my nails are a disaster and I can barely remember what my friends look like. Over the past month all of my time has been sucked into some kind of vortex and I'm not entirely sure what I've even been doing other than looking for jobs and mourning the loss of my footless and fancy free student days.

Maybe I haven't adjusted to living with my parents again yet. I'm used to waking up to a plan I made the night before or a totally blank canvas ("What's the plan for the day? Four hours of Netflix followed by cocktails and the Sex and the City drinking game with my housemates? Why not?") Last week I woke up to the sound of Lauren scampering into my room.
"We're going swimming!"
I broached the subject with my mother. Admittedly, rather tactlessly.
"Swimming? Nobody consulted me. I could have had plans for all you knew."
"You don't though, do you?" She said, knowingly.

She was right. It was meant to be one of those blank canvas days. Maybe I'd have gone to pilates. Maybe I'd have gone to the pub. Maybe I'd even have finally gotten around to writing my new blog post. But my blank canvas day was snatched away and instead I was heading to the swimming pool with two small children. Still, my soul was, as of yet, uncrushed.

That quickly changed.

We drove all the way over the Swansea, only to find out the gym we're a member of wasn't open to children for another hour. Try explaining that to a four year old diva. So we ended up on the road again, heading towards the public pool in Neath, which, as it turns out (the lady on the phone failed to mention this little gem) is free for all school children after 2pm. Wonderful if you're a ten year old, but not so great if you arrive at quarter to 2 with a small child in a wheelchair and a tiny loon with no patience and find yourself in a queue that winds itself around the building. Especially as my mother had phoned ahead to make sure we could go straight over with the wheelchair with no problems.

Lost adrift in a turbulent sea of scores of screeching children with a worrying lack of manners, I started to lose it. To cut a long story short, the staff at reception made me despair at the state of humanity (and the education system) and I ended up wandering around in a towel looking for change for the locker. This is why I pay a monthly membership for the Village. That and the Village has ample room to do hair and make up when you're done working out.

Anyway, that's the kind of thing I have to put up with now that I'm no longer living the glorified student life. One small mercy is that I had to come back to Exeter for today's exam and I stayed overnight on campus. It was like being a fresher again, brushing my teeth in my little en-suit, collapsing into bed safe in the knowledge that there was nothing to wake me except an alarm I personally controlled. No one tried to make morning conversation. No one asked me to do the dishes. It was bliss.

The red line is the ridiculous route I took

What made it even better was that I was staying in Holland Hall, which will mean nothing to you if you didn't go to the University of Exeter and will mean everything to you if you did. Back when we lived on campus, hearing someone say, "I live in Holland Hall" was like hearing someone say, "My father wears tweed and shoots pheasant...which the servants then cook." At £6988.80 for a 32 week contract, it's officially like the Mecca of Exeter rah culture. Oh the rumours I've heard about that place...

After searching for it for 20 minutes and seeing no sign of it, I was concerned. I'd lived down that end of the campus two years ago. It isn't a big place. I took the most obscure route possible, finding myself lost more than once. ("Wait...why is there a children's park here? Where am I?" And so forth.) I started to worry there was some kind of Hogwarts-style enchantment over the place so that peasants couldn't see it.

And then I found it. Perched on the perfect spot for stunning panoramic views, close enough to campus to crawl there in the mornings with the least amount of uphill walking (a big problem in Exeter), courtyards, an outdoor dining area, a bar, full English breakfast with a selection of cereals and juices on the side...it lived up to all my expectations. Still, a girl like me with a valleys accent and an aversion to gilets would have burned upon crossing the threshold if it hadn't been during the summer vacation.

So call me a loser, but my trip to Exeter to sit my exam has been like a mini holiday. I got to have fried bread with breakfast, didn't have to share my bathroom, and no one ordered me to go swimming. In reality, I'm not really all that hard to please...

Another Little Loon

So I’m nearing the end of a 4 and half hour train journey up to North Wales to visit one of my best friends, Beth. I do not enjoy trains. Public transport is, after all, where society’s loons congregate. Like the lady across the carriage who stared intently at me for 20 minutes. And the old woman who stood in the middle of the aisle, shouting about everyone and everything and refused to take her seat because she was convinced the conductor was ‘up to something’.

So I thought it would help make time go by a little faster (and keep me from having to make eye contact with anyone) if I caught up on some blogging. Despite the fact that my life has become boring and meaningless since I left uni, it’s surprisingly hard to find the time to sit down and type up a blog. 

If you read The Littlest Loon then you'll get the idea behind this post. This time the spotlight falls on my nine year old nephew, Ellis, who was born an old man and, in recent months, has taken to informing me that I'm embarrassingly uncool (gone are the days when my knowledge of Disney films and extensive fancy dress collection made me a legend in his eyes).

A few weeks ago I asked him a series of questions to see what kinds of bizarre ideas lurk in that little brain of his. There are some very odd answers. Everything I said is in red and Ellis' ramblings are in blue. 

What makes you the most happy?

Having someone to play with.

What’s your favourite food?

Meat.

What advice would you give to mammy and daddy?

You’re awesome.

If you were invisible for a day, what would you do?

Not go to school.

You’re not in school now and you’re visible.

...Still not go to school.

What’s your favourite thing about Lauren?

Pause

She's cute?

What’s your least favourite thing about Lauren?

She annoying.

What are the best at?

Building things.

How would you describe your Auntie Aimee?

She’s amazing! (Emphasis added)

What’s your favourite memory?

When I went to Disneyland?

What part?

When I went to Sea World.

What was your favourite holiday?

When I went to Greece for the last time. 

If you could go anywhere where would you go?

Texas.

Why?

Because it’s awesome.

If you had a million pound what would you do?

…..

Mulling it over?

…..

A million pound. What would you do?

Go to Route 66 and buy the Lego Movie video game…because that’s the best game you can get and you can get a better chance of not having a glitch if you buy it in California.

…Ok.

What’s your favourite time of the year?

Summer.

Why?

Because it’s the season that people umm…go on strike. And you can go down the beach a lot.

Do you have a girlfriend?

No.

Do you want a girlfriend?

No.

Why?
Because I don’t.

What five words best describe you?

That’s too hard for me. I can’t.

What’s the hardest thing about being a kid?

You have to do more…you have a lot of problems because you have lots of bullies.

What’s the best thing about being a kid?

That if a ship is sinking, children get off first.

If you could have one super power, what super power would you have?

Oooh. I can’t think...Telekinese.

Telekinesis?

Yeah.

What do you want for Christmas this year?

Mmm. Disney Infinity 2.0 if I don’t get it… if it isn’t….no. No, not that. The Lego Movie video game. That’s the main one.

And now that I've shared the weird and wonderful musings of a nine year old loon, I have to return to my train journey of doom...making a concious effort not to accidentally glance over in the direction of the woman I'm pretty sure is still staring at me.