The Return of the Littlest Loon!

It's been just over a year since I managed to get my niece to take 10 minutes out of her busy schedule of pretending to be a cat and hiding Playdough under the sofa to sit down and answer a series of questions about her life. I published her bizarre little ramblings in a blog post, which was (inevitably) heavily focussed on unicorns and princesses.

Now Lauren is six years old and I couldn't help wondering just how much her answers to those questions had changed over the course of a year. I mean, sure, her favourite colour is no longer pink, she's cast aside Sleeping Beauty in favour of Princess Jasmine and you'll never catch her performing the once beloved 'Cutie Patootie' dance. But how much has that adorable little weirdo really changed in the last thelve months?

To answer that question I spent last Saturday afternoon delving into the mind of a teeny tiny loon again as she sat on my bed, munching her way through a packet of digestive biscuits. (When I got into bed that night there were crumbs everywhere!)

And here's what she had to say. Everything I said is in purple and Lauren's words of wisdom are in green.

Ok, you ready?

Yeah.

What makes you happy?

Having fun!

What kind of fun?

Umm...going to the park and going to the trips in school.

What makes you sad?

When people are mean to me in school.

What makes you laugh?

Telling me jokes and me being silly.

If you could do anything today what would you do?

*Long interval of biscuit munching*

Umm...go to Disneyland!

How old are you?

*Gives me a dirty look as if I am the worst auntie in the world for even daring to ask this*

Six!

How old am I?

*Shrugs*

Have a guess.

Thirty two?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Ump,,,,,nothing.

Nothing? What are you going to do all day?

Stay in the house and be lazy. And I'm not going to have a boyfriend either. I'm going to stay on my own and be lazy.

All on your own?

Well...some kids.

You're going to have some kids?

Yeah. But I'm not going to have anything in my house except a bed.

But you don't want a boyfriend. Children need a mammy and a daddy.

*munch munch munch*
....I'm going to be an auntie then. 

Ok.

I don't want kids. No! I don't want my own. But I want a grand-kid. I don't want my own kids. 

You don't?

No! ...How old are you?

Twenty four.

...Ok. What's the next question?

Who's your best friend?

Tommy. No, actually Tommy isn't my best friend. He's my boyfriend.

So who's your best friend?

Rex and Max.

I haven't heard of them before. Are they in your school?

No. *whispers* They're in the caravan.

What's your favourite animal?

Rainbow Dash.

What's your favourite song?

Bad Romance!

What's your favourite food?

Umm...broccoli?

Where is your favourite place to go?

Disneyland!

What are you really good at?

Maths.

What are you not very good at?

Nothing!

You're good at everything?

*giggles like a crazy person* 
I'm not good at making people! 

What do you want for your birthday?

A real friend Rainbow Dash pony! 

What did you do today?

Umm...played a game. I was in the caravan and then I played a game and then I came to Nanna's house and I played a game again and then I'm going home and I'm going to play a game agaaaiiin!!

Those were all the questions. Do you have anything to add?

I want to stick my tongue out!  

And there you have it!
You know, part of me wonders what a trained professional would make of some of that...

A Trip to London Part 2: Scary Horse Statues, Men with Guns and the Artful Dodger.

In my last post I told you all about the seemingly endless process of applying for my J-1 Visa. The paperwork, the bizarre questions, the ordeal of finding the US Embassy for my interview and, of course, the queues, queues as far as the eye could see!

But, once my interview was over and done with and I'd bravely made my way back through the gates of the Embassy, past the guards with giant guns ("you'd better get used to guns if you're going to America. I've seen the ID channel. Guns everywhere!" as my mother helpfully added), my mother and I had the rest of the day to spend wandering around London. And here's how that panned out...

I wanted to go to the Dickens Museum. I mean, they have costumed tours and a gift shop. What's not to love? But my mother isn't a big fan of Dickens...or museums. She wanted to have a wander around Debenhams instead. In the end we compromised ended up in the Disney Store.

Needless to say I got in Cinderella's carriage

From there we went and had a quick nose around Selfridges. I'm not entirely sure my mother understood just how very out of place we were. She kept looking at me and asking if I'd seen anything I wanted to try on. When I told her I definitely couldn't afford anything in the shop she seemed to think that I was just being a bit of a miser until she spotted a dress she fancied and took a look at the price tag.
"I don't have my glasses on. What does that say? £19.50?"
"No...that's £1950."
We quickly vacated Selfridges after that.

At the start of the day it was a struggle to get my mother on the tube. Yes, it’s dank and scary and squashed full of people who shoulder you out of the way and push past you on the station. Yes, it smells and yes it is totally unnatural for human beings to be propelled from one end of the city to the other underneath the ground at hurtling speeds. But, for all its unhygienic and terrifying qualities, the tube really is the best way to get around.

And, once my mother got over her initial fear that we were all certainly going to die and saw how quickly we could hop on at one station and pop up somewhere entirely new, she really began to enjoy it. In fact, when we got home that night, she and my dad discussed the wonders of the tube in depth for half an hour or more. As if it was some kind of miraculous new invention.

Next ventured over to Camden Market on a whim. It was awesome! You could spend days wandering through the little stalls, peering at all the weird and wonderful curiosities on display. There were clothes, jewellery, ornaments, books, food, artwork…pretty much everything you can imagine, only quirkier and more bizarre. There were little winding alleyways, cobbled tunnels and shops that were tucked up and hidden out of the way, a barrage of different sights and sounds and a new smell every time we turned a corner (some good and some…not so good).

The Stables Market was my favourite (despite the fact that the horse statues made me very uneasy) because its nineteenth century stonework, worn floorboards and general hustle and bustle made it feel almost as though the Artful Dodger could pop up at any moment. I guess it was the next best thing to the Dickens museum.
  

Next we headed to Covent Garden. Yes, I know it’s one of the most famous places in London and yes I know it has a Chanel and a Burberry and it’s very fancy and all that, but I preferred the randomness and weirdly endearing griminess of Camden Market. Besides, I am in no way posh enough to go wandering around Dior so it’s just as well that I stick with the little stalls in Camden where a pair of earrings is £4. 

When the time came for us to get our train, neither of us were ready to head home, partly because we were having such a lovely time nosing around London and partly because we had foolishly left it until rush hour to catch the tube. Commuters are hostile at the best of times, but in the city centre at 5:30pm a tourist could potentially lose a limb.

Spending the day in London made us realise that we really don’t take advantage of the interesting places we have on our doorstep. Here I am jetting off to explore America and I still haven’t even begun to explore to UK. So I’m going to make an effort to travel more within the country. Top of the list? The Dickens Museum!

A Trip to London Part 1: I Take on the US Embassy

In the midst of my stress-ridden daily routine of filling in online paperwork, making my endless way through lists that never seem to get any shorter, staring into my wardrobe for hours on end without ever coming to any kind of conclusion on what needs to be stuffed into the case that I have yet to purchase, and countless other anxiety-inducing preparations for my trip next month, let me tell you about my trip to the US Embassy in London.

Perhaps it will distract me from the cruel blow of waking up this morning to find we were out of Nutella.

In a world where tourists need to be screened by the DHS before they can hop on a plane to Disneyworld, it probably goes without saying that I needed a visa for my trip to the USA next month. Applying for a J-1 visa was (in my case at least) a long, convoluted and slightly terrifying experience. It involved excessive amounts of paperwork, bizarre security questions (“Are you planning on entering the country to become a prostitute?” “Are you a drug smuggler?” “Do you plan on becoming a drug smuggler in the near future?” and so on), an array of important reference numbers, passwords and memorable information (all of which seemed to disappear as soon as I needed them) and, of course, a hugely unflattering visa photograph that makes me look like I actually could be a prostitute and/or drug smuggler. And, when all of that was done, I still had to head up to London for a face to face interview.

Naturally my mother wouldn't hear of her fully-grown adult daughter heading into the city alone so she tagged along too.

Our first issue was trying to find the embassy. As if I wasn't already hampered enough by my non-existent sense of direction and complete inability to read street maps, my phone died as soon as we stepped off the tube so Google wasn't around to save us. As it happens, there’s a big square where all the embassies are and, once we found the square, it was simply a case of working out which one was the American embassy.

“Do you think they’ll have a flag outside?” My mother asked as we aimlessly wandered around the square.

“There’s a star spangled banner on the moon. I’m pretty sure there’ll be one outside the US embassy.”

Looking back, I’m still not entirely sure how it took so long to work out which one was the right building. The US embassy was about the size of four or five of the others, with an enormous eagle on top along with what was probably the most gigantic flag I've ever seen in my life. 

There was a lot of queueing involved to get into the embassy. Queueing to get my forms checked, queuing to have my bags searched, queueing to explain to the security guy that the suspicious electronic device in my bag was my rape alarm (“because a girl can’t be too careful”), queueing to get my fingerprints taken, and, finally, queueing for the actual interview.

The interview itself was actually the quickest part of the whole experience.

“What do you plan on doing in the USA?”

“I’m going to be teaching arts and crafts at a summer camp in Maine.”

“Ok. Well, I’m going to approve your visa!”

It was as simple as that.

Obviously it was a lot more upbeat and enjoyable because the interviewer was American and therefore wonderfully friendly and happy. In fact, I got so caught up in the moment that I told her to “have a nice day”. I hope she didn’t think I was being facetious…

And so trauma of my visa application was over (apart from the ordeal of trying to get hold of it a few weeks later when the embassy released it to a mystical courier service whose location is so well hidden it might as well be protected by a magic spell that makes it invisible to muggles. But that's a story for a different day). And so, with my appointment at the embassy behind me and a full day in London ahead of us, we set off to explore.

But first we had to deal with her crippling fear of the tube...

24 Hours of Fancy

If three years in Exeter taught me anything about myself it's that I am not a fancy person. I drink Blossom Hill instead of Prosecco, I do not understand the obsession with Jack Wills, and I have never held a £50 note. (While we're on the topic, does anyone actually know who's on the £50 note? I've always been curious.)

But last week I got the opportunity to pretend to be super fancy for a full 24 hours. It was exhausting. 

As a birthday treat for my mother we went to the Celtic Manor Resort, a golf, spa and leisure hotel and resort in Newport. Everyone from the Prince of Wales to Elton John, Shirley Bassey and even Obama have stayed there. Clearly, if it's good enough for Barack then it's good enough for us. 

I drove (purely because my car would fit in fractionally better among the BMWs and Porches than my mother's Ford Focus) and there was a long, winding driveway up to the hotel. Even the shrubbery was fancy! But there was a £15 charge to use the car park overnight! In a hotel as posh as the Celtic Manor you'd expect a valet in full livery with some kind of elaborate moustache to come and park the car for you (not that I would have dared let a valet get in my car, amongst the discarded Cadbury wrappers and crumpled up parking tickets). At the very least you expect to park for free. I mean, I can't imagine Obama standing at the ticket machine, counting out his pound coins.

However, by the time we got to the check-in desk, any irritation had been completely replaced with awe. The lobby was huge, with impressive dragon sculptures and giant Rolex clocks, showing the time in a random assortment of countries. It was even more impressive than the Radisson Blu in Cologne (although I may be biased because, well, there were dragons).

It was while we were queueing to check-in that we first spotted our holiday enemy. There is always a holiday enemy, regardless of where you go or whether you're there for two weeks or one solitary night. The holiday enemy is the person who keeps popping up at various points throughout your stay, seemingly with the sole purpose of irritating you.

Our holiday enemy was a lady in amongst a group of women who clearly thought they were auditioning for 'The Real Housewives of South Wales'. I didn't even know that people like this existed in real life, but there they were, looking more glamorous than any person has a right to at three 'o' clock in the afternoon in Newport. And then there was the holiday enemy, flicking her hair as if she was sponsored by L'oreal, laughing loudly so all the little people could hear, and staring down her nose at the rest of the world (literally, because her heels were so high).

"Look at her," My mother said. "She thinks that being in the Celtic Manor means she's really something special. But obviously it doesn't. After all, we're here!"

The room was amazing! There was so much space (I wish my bedroom was half as big) and we had a little sitting area with arms chairs, a desk, a dressing table, a view that stretched out for miles and a mini bar that we were too afraid to so much as look at. Then there was the bathroom. It was heavenly! I mean, the Bryn Meadows may have had a tv in the bathroom, but this bathroom had a giant mirror with lights all around and ample room to do makeup (even for someone who spreads out mess as much as I do).

After exploring the room we did a little turn around the lobby again, investigating the cocktail bars and restaurants and I taught my mother to carry her bag on the crook of her elbow because "that's how the rich people do it". Then we sat and had a coffee (which came with complimentary cakes!) and we tried to work out how we were possibly going to raise enough money to move into the hotel. Because clearly there was no going back to real life after a taste of such luxury.

We ate dinner in the Olive Tree, one of the restaurants downstairs, which served a hot buffet. I won't lie, I stuffed my face. Soup, turkey, duck, vegetables, weird rice things, some kind of gnocchi...I didn't turn down anything. I had five desserts and I feel no shame! Everything was delicious and, best of all, everything was labelled stating whether or not it was gluten free.

Then we got the bill and I thought my mother was going to throw four courses worth of food back up onto her plate.
"£9 for a glass of wine?!"
She complained all the way back to the room. Yes, she moaned about the price of wine all the way through the lobby of the most posh hotel in the country (but, even as she was ranting, she kept her bag on the crook of her arm in an attempt to blend in). Luckily she didn't find out how much my Cosmopolitan had cost until the next day.

After a night spent in wonderfully comfortable beds, and a morning spent stuffing our faces full of delicious breakfast goodies, we went to the pool. It was amazing! There were saunas, steam rooms, hot tubs, jacuzzis, sun loungers, a ceiling with little LCD bulbs, painted to look like the night's sky. It was all so...fancy!

But, all too soon, it was time to check-out. It was so sad, knowing that we were heading back out into a world where people wouldn't rush to our aid whenever we needed something or call us ma'am, a world where there was no one to come and re-fold our napkins between courses, where the baths were regular sizes and no one came to refill your wine glass.

We caught one last sight of our holiday enemy again, flicking her hair and posing.
"You know," I said. "If she really was that posh then she'd know you're not meant to wear open toe shoes after Labour Day."

And that's the story of how, for just one night, my mother and I became all fancy-shmancy, sipping on overpriced wine and dining on food we couldn't pronounce the names of. But alas, when the clock struck 12 it was check-out time and, as we pulled out of the car park, we instantly turned back into pumpkins.

Random Facts About my Random Life: 24 Questions Tag

It's no secret that I love tag questions. It's probably mostly to do with the fact that like to read about all of the bizarre and pointless details of other people's lives. Well, it's been a while since I did my last tag and I thought it was about time for me to bombard you with a new series of weird and wonderful facts about me!

1. Do you have a middle name?
I do. It's Rebecca. For some reason I struggled to spell that for years when I was in primary school. I was convinced it was Rebbeca. Even now I'm not entirely sure it looks right...

2. What was your favourite subject in school?
English. Shocker! I'm pretty sure I came out of the womb with a love of literature! I was 11 years old when I decided I wanted to do an English degree at university, a decision I only questioned once when I was choosing my A Levels and I briefly toyed with the idea of going in for medicine. But, when I realised real life was nothing like Scrubs, I quickly reverted to the original plan.

3. What's your favourite drink?
Jack Daniels and Diet Coke hands down. The only thing that can improve Jack Daniels in my opinion is drinking it whilst wearing cowboy boots. 

4. What's your favourite song at the moment?
Good Girl by Carrie Underwood.

5. What would you name your children?

The truth is, I have an absolutely epic girl's name picked out already (which may or may not make me crazy seeing as I don't even have a boyfriend) but that is top secret information. Haven't you people seen that episode of Sex and the City where that awful woman steals Charlotte's baby name? I'm not even sure I'll tell the baby's father until after it's born just in case!

6. Do you participate in any sports?
I'm a cheerleader. My toe-touches are appalling, but I love it!

7. What's your favourite book?
Gone with the Wind. Scarlett O'Hara is the ultimate heroine. She'd make a terrible friend though...

8. What's your favourite colour?
Pink!

9. What's your favourite animal?
I'm not much of a pet person (apart from bunnies. Bunnies are awesome and my bunny was the best bunny of them all!) but I love tigers, giraffes and elephants. We saw the baby elephant at West Midlands Safari Park last summer and he was adorable! No word of a lie, he knew he was the star of the show. He stood in front of each car in turn and waggled his ears at them. I thought my brain was going to explode from cuteness overload.

10. What's your favourite perfume?
Right now I love Heat by Beyonce, but, in all honesty, I'll wear whatever I'm given for Christmas (providing it doesn't smell like mildew or onions or something).

11. What's your favourite holiday?
Christmas is probably my favourite because I love the build up. Putting up the tree, shopping for gifts, eating my weight in chocolate coins and that kind of thing. But I also really love Halloween. Some of my best memories are of Halloween and, honestly, there's nothing like the musty smell of the boxes of Halloween decorations when you take them down from the attic each year.

12. Have you graduated from High School?
No, I've just completed comprehensive school, which I don't really count as an achievement as such because it's required by law.

13. Have you been out of the country?
I'm very lucky. I've been to Greece more times than I care to count, Tenerife, Portugal, France...in fact, I travelled all over Europe in 2013 with my friends Hayleigh and Bethan. I've also been to South Africa twice and Florida, but I'm not nearly done exploring. There are plenty more countries for me to humiliate myself in!

14. Do you speak any other languages?
I should speak Welsh, partly because I was taught it from the age of 4 to the age of 16, and partly because there's something very sad about not being able to speak your national language. But compulsory Welsh lessons are very lax and, over time I've forgotten about 80% of what I learned at school. I still remember how to say a few key things like "I would like a cake" and "My belly hurts" so I guess that's something.

15. Do you have any siblings?
I have an older brother. And when I say older, I mean old. He's 37. Pretty soon he'll be balding and using a walking stick. (Love you, Rob!)

16. What's your favourite store?
Either Waterstones or The Range. I'm not even sure where the appeal lies in The Range because it's mostly full of Tupperware and wallpaper, but I just love it.

17. What's your favourite restaurant?
TGI Fridays. Those people put Jack Daniels on chicken and serve the best cosmopolitans. Enough said!

18. Do you like school?
I would give anything to go back to school (probably not comprehensive school because it was a shambles, but college or university). I miss learning things! I'm very concerned that my brain is slowly turning to mush. By next week I might not even remember how to read.

19. Who are some of your favourite YouTubers?
Linzy Rae
Leigh Ann Says
Kendall Rae
Can I count myself?


20. What's your favourite movie?
Beauty and the Beast. I feel no shame. It is amazing.

21. What are some of your favourite TV shows?
Toddlers and Tiaras, Say Yes to the Dress, American Horror Story, Desperate Housewives...again I feel no shame.

22. PC or Mac?
Oh how I wish I could afford a Mac! 

23. What phone do you have?
I have an iPhone 5. I'm pretty sure the contract is up though...

24. How tall are you?
5 4" (that could be pushing it).

So there you have it. Another 24 totally random facts about me!

New Year's Eve: A Family Affair

Happy 2015! Christmas officially feels as though it never happened. It came and went so quickly that I still have a bottle of Winter Jack out in the kitchen that I didn't even get a chance to open. My head is still spinning and there's nothing but a few leftover chocolates and a lingering feeling of exhaustion to suggest that Christmas ever happened at all.

And now suddenly it's 2015. I'm glad. 2014 was an odd year for me, almost like a stopgap, which went by in a blur of confusion and, as we went from November to December, I was happy to get the last few dregs of the year over and done with and start on a new one. I had my annual, "Next year I will sort out my life and transform myself into a wonderful, fully-functioning grown-up human being" pep talk and, after that, New Year's couldn't come quickly enough.

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.

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. 

Halloween Havoc!

It's no secret that I love Halloween. There's something magical about the musty smell of a box of Halloween decorations and the thrill of carving out pumpkin guts. Usually my father and I will start planning for Halloween in the Spring. There are props to construct, costumes to put together, themes to imagine. It's a big deal. But this year there was to be no party. My brother was working nights and Ellis and Lauren were going to a Halloween disco with their friends from school so, for the first time in more years than I can remember, there would be no spider webs, fake blood or shrieks of terror in the Wellington household on October 31st.

...Or so we thought...

In fact, the school disco was on the 30th, meaning the kids would have no spooky celebrations on Halloween itself, which, in this family, is totally unacceptable. Fast-forward to the afternoon of Halloween, which I spent in a state of utter panic, searching in vain for pumpkins, hyperventilating at the distinct lack of decorations I had to work with, and edging ever closer to the brink of insanity as I was forced to accept there was no time to make creepy cupcakes.

As if trying to plan an ad-hock Halloween celebration in less than 24 hours isn't hard enough, by 12:30pm Asda had already packed away their Halloween aisle and had replaced all the spooky party supplies and trick or treat sweets with Christmas crackers and baubles. I wasn't the only irritated customer loitering at the end of the aisle in disbelief, wondering why they couldn't have waited an extra 24 hours before snatching all the Halloween themed goodies out from under our noses. Luckily Tesco had a fantastic selection of Halloween themed treats, but, in my highly stressed state, I couldn't resist having a little dig at Asda on Twitter. After all, it was totally ridiculous to pack up all the Halloween stock before Halloween was over and what's Twitter for if not to rant to the world?

"I think I did a pretty good job considering time constraints"

Once my slightly passive aggressive moment has passed, I headed home for some manic decorating and an entirely new problem. What on Earth was I going to wear? The Playboy witch costume I had set aside for a grown up Halloween celebration with my friends was not going to cut it for trick-or-treating with small children. I mean, even if I traded in the stockings for tights, there was no hiding the suspenders.

So I was forced to take my own advice as outlined in my last blog post and rummage around the house to find some odds and ends I could make a costume out of. Personally, I think I did a pretty good job considering the time constraints.

And, despite all the frantic rushing around and the last-minute nature of everything, our little get together went really well. Lauren and I went out trick-or-treating (Ellis and his friend, Alex, are apparently too old and cool for that sort of thing now) and it was the perfect night for it. It was unseasonally warm and the air was dry and still. Whereas usually trick-or-treaters are few and far between, this year the streets were full of children rushing from one house to the next. I felt like I was in a scene from Hocus Pocus! And the bonus moment was when my neighbour insisted on giving me £1 because 'I made such a pretty witch'. I don't understand people who don't like Halloween. How can anyone have negative feelings towards a holiday centred on fancy dress and free sweets?! 

When trick-or-treating was over, we settled down to stuff our faces with pizza and chocolates and watch Hocus Pocus. (Side note, someone please remind me I simply have to dress as Sarah Sanderson next Halloween. Sarah Jessica Parker seriously rocks that look!) It was lovely.

After all the last minute stress, our low-key little Halloween get together was perfect. It was just like the Halloween celebrations we used to have when I was little, before we started bringing in bigger props and planning more intricate games. Bobbing apples and a scary story were more than enough to keep everyone happy.

Unfortunately, happiness quickly evaporated and was replaced with shrieks of genuine terror when Lauren caught sight of the decapitated bride's head we had hanging in the bathroom. I hope I won't have to pay for her therapist's fees one day because of that...

Happiness in Photographs...with Filters: 100 Days of Happy.

I'm sure everyone is familiar with the 100 Days of Happy Instagram challenge. Well, I decided to give it a go and, despite the fact that mine lasted more like 150 days due to my overwhelming forgetfulness and inability to count, I'm finally done. So, in celebration of my commitment to technology (you all know how much I hate it) and because nothing particularly exciting has been happening recently for me to write about (apart from that super exciting thing I can't share with you yet) I thought I'd do a recap of my 100 days of happiness. Some are fun, some are weird, some are tenuous, but here we go.


Day 1

Day 1: (even though I failed at 30 days of happy) New shoes. Because sometimes you need to feel like Barbie #100daysofhappy #shoes #pink

It all started with my pretty pink shoes. I saw them in Miss Selfridge and simply had to own them. I don't think I've actually worn them yet though...


Day 2

Day 2: My beloved Britney may be off the the scrap yard, but today I got an early graduation present #100daysofhappy

This weekend I surprised my parents by taking a train back home from Exeter and turning up on their doorstep. They, in turn, surprised me with the news that my beloved KA, Britney, was being scrapped because the mechanic couldn't even complete the MOT. Something about some part of the engine falling out...

Anyway, on Day 2 I picked up my new car, Tink. She's lime green. We go on epic adventures.

Day 12

Day 12: Hurray! Winning the lottery was a little bonus for this week #100daysofhappy

This was such a great day! My parents were away in Prague and, being the wonderful daughter I am, I cleared out all the kitchen draws. I found about a dozen old lottery tickets and, what do you know, three of them were winners! Naturally I kept the winnings as payment for cleaning the draws.


Day 23

Day 23: Free pizza! I got to sample the new Pizza Express menu today to write up a review. I am so full it hurts #100daysofhappy

This was the day Hayleigh and I went and stuffed our faces with free pizza so I could write up a review for Pizza Express. Yes, I'm more than happy to work in exchange for food.


Day 27

Day 27: And breathe! My mother won't allow celebratory champagne with lunch but it's a celebration nonetheless

After all the tears, the late nights, nightmares about Miss America and after spending so much time reading Gone with the Wind that I began to believe the Yankees really were coming, on Day 27 I finally handed in my dissertation. The title? From Hoop Skirts to Daisy Dukes: The Changing....umm...something about the Southern Belle. Clearly I've repressed all memories of it. 


Day 53

Day 53: "Nanna, auntie Aimee wants a whisky." How well trained these children are! #100daysofhappy #worldsbestaunt #alcohol #jackdaniels

As much as every day with my little munchkins is a happy day, it's quotes like this that make me realise how blessed I am to have such a cool niece and nephew. 


Day 65

Day 65: I may look anything but happy in this picture, but that's only because I was hungry. It's day 3 of the #clean9 and I've lost 9lbs already and feel great! That's something to smile over. (But I could do with a stack of pancakes right now) #100daysofhappy #weightloss

Yes I craved pancakes for the entire week and yes I was grumpy when everyone else was chomping on burgers and I had to sit there sipping on water, but I really did lose 9lbs in 9 days! That made me very happy.


Day 73

Day 73: I can't believe it, but the most amazing three year adventure has come to an end all too quickly and today I graduated. It was a fantastic day in spite of the ridiculous hat #100daysofhappy #graduation #hooray

Day 73 was my graduation day. I drank champagne, threw a stupid hat into the air, and hugged Floella Benjamin! And, on top of all that, my hair remained pretty much under control for the most part. Success! 


Day 97

Day 97: World's coolest birthday present. Entrepreneur Barbie! She will sit on my desk to inspire me each morning. Yes, I'm 23. #100daysofhappy #barbie #grownup

A+ to one of my closest friends, Thorny, for paying attention to my ramblings about the release of Entrepreneur Barbie and getting me one for my birthday. I LOVE her! Don't tell me Barbie is a bad role model to girls. No other woman has been a doctor, astronaut, vet, politician, teacher, and entrepreneur, all whilst rocking killer shoes.


Day 100

Day 100 (finally!): At long last I have my official results from university. I have graduated with a 2:1 with honours! Better late than never #100daysofhappy

I wasn't exactly thrilled when I got a kidney infection back in January and had to miss my exam. It meant I had to defer it until August and haul my butt all the way back to Exeter to sit it during the summer after the lease on my house was up. Then I couldn't get my result the same time as everyone else, but at last, on Day 100, I could officially say I had a 2:1 from the University of Exeter. 


And so 100 days (or significantly more) have passed and I've had plenty to be happy about. True, I omitted some of the more mundane ones ("I'm happy about...my bed"), but I really liked this challenge. And it was nice to sit down and look through them all this evening. So if you haven't done it yet, maybe you could give it a go. 

And you should DEFINITELY follow me on Instagram. @aimee_oddball. 

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...

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.