How I was saved from myself by the Wickedest Whippet

Let me start off by saying that Sassy, the wickedest whippet has not been softened by motherhood and she let me know in no uncertain terms today but I will give her credit where credit is due, she did save me from myself.

Having just come off the telephone from having a severe ear bashing by one of my nearest and dearests, I immediately went to comfort myself from the cake tin. I do find food so much more gratifying when I cry especially the sweet stuff. Anyway just as I was about to satisfy my emotional needs with a piece of M&S chocolate fudge brownie, the one with the pieces of chocolate on the top, the telephone rang again and in my naiveté I dashed to pick it up thinking it was the relli calling to say sorry, leaving my repast on the top shelf of the dresser.

Please note that old habits die hard and even though I thought I knew that Sassy had seriously mellowed, I still erred on the side of caution.

Anyway it wasn’t said relli but the tree surgeon checking about getting to the house next week to measure up all our trees (another story I promise). Some quarter of an hour later I manage to extricate myself from the telephone only to find that the cake had disappeared though the plate was in exactly the same position.

At this stage I had my suspicions but there was no evidence to pin the job on her and she’s getting a dab hand at acting all innocent. It could have been the cat but she’s not as agile as she once was. It could have been J but I swear he was in the barn. Whoever did it, the fact was it had gone. So feeling rather put out I stomped up the stairs to my office deliberately leaving the EBJ incarcerated with her puppies in the kitchen. She was not amused.

In the haven of my office I checked my emails and spied one reminding me about the diet I am on. That jolted me! Having got so upset by the earlier telephone call I had completely forgotten my pledge on Day One of the dieting experiment! Typical me to attempt to fall at the first hurdle, but wait I had been saved. I had not eaten the forbidden delicacy, it had been nicked. A huge wave of euphoria swept over me and I rushed downstairs to hug my beautiful black whippet.

That is until I saw the kitchen...

There was paper everywhere and she and her puppies were in glorious mid-shred. We all stopped and stared at each other as little pieces of confetti sized paper drifted slowly to the floor. At first I was bewildered. Where on earth had she got this stuff? Then I saw the packaging. The evil dog had only gone and destroyed all the very expensive paper napkins that I had just bought for Christmas. I'd left them on the Kitchen table ready to put away later.

I bellowed, she choked and was then promptly sick all over the floor – and there was the evidence for all to see. Not only had she destroyed the napkins, the toad HAD eaten my cake! Any thought of hugging her for helping me keep to my diet went straight in the bin along with copious amounts of paper and other unmentionables. I am still in two minds whether to forgive her or not but as she is in my office now I’ll leave it to you to guess how long I’ll hold out…

REVIEW: Thinking Slimmer - Day One

PS. For those keeping an eye on me through the Thinking Slimmer experiment. I did not snack today and have been able to think about my food before eating it if that makes any sense at all bar the tiny slip up this morning that is. I feel very proud of myself!

My mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun…a St Valentine's Eve lament

My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun...Well, at least that’s what I think he thinks. To be honest I wouldn’t have a clue he’s not one for romantic eloquence. The best I get is a grunt, when prompted, which I like to think means: “That’s nice Darling!”

He forgot my Birthday last year, actually I didn’t remind him, perhaps that was a bit masochistic of me as I know he’s not that good on dates unless it’s for things like the Six Nations.

But it’s not as if he doesn’t buy me things, I am very lucky. He has bought me little bon motes over the years when prompted or when I say he has. It’s got to the stage when on Christmas Day I exclaim over a beautiful cashmere scarf: “Darling how wonderful just what I always wanted!” You should have seen his face it was a picture as he’d never seen the aforementioned scarf in his life but knowing he’s sort of forgotten he had to pretend he had – Mum and my sister think he has exquisite taste.

And as for Valentines Day? Well I don’t hold my breath -although this year owing to the fact that I let him forget my Birthday I am not feeling Laissez faire about the whole thing.

Actually in normal circumstances I feel the St Valentine’s Day thing is a bit of a rip off.

However, he DID forget my birthday…

So ever since they started the M&S St Valentine’s Day Eat in for £20 that’s what I’ve been nudging him to do and I only mentioned my Birthday once.

Of course in true husband/wife form I can’t actually tell him outright can I?

“Darling I want to you to take me out/make me supper on Valentine’s Day.”

That would be letting the side down I think. I need him to feel well bewildered, slightly uneasy. I need to see him actually using his brains trying to work out what has got into me, his normally perfectly unprepossessing wife.

The slight unbalance in his usually straightforward life will do him the world of good. It might even make him actually pay attention – to ME!

Because come on that’s all I really want just a little bit of attention, a little bit of thought. I don’t want a great deal really…

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)

By William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
     And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
     As any she belied with false compare.

Picture shows: Jamie Roberts (Wales) fighting off the Scots in the Wales vs Scotland RBS 6 Nations Rugby match on Saturday 13th February. It was a Welsh Victory (31-24)

Review: Changing Sheets

Changing the sheets the other day I realised I had no idea where time had gone – not changing the sheets mind, that doesn’t take very long, unless of course, I am joined by the Boys or event the dogs.

No, I was looking at Dear Charlie’s sheets and duvet cover, well actually his duvet cover, and it dawned on me that he had had this self same cover for as long as I have known him – now we’ve been married ten years and I knew him a long time before that.

I know some may be shocked by the knowledge that I knew what his duvet cover looked like before we were married but I did help him move house long before I actually got engaged to him. (That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it – you never know who might be reading do you!)

Anyway his Duvet cover must be an antique by now. In fact it is so old, its blue and orange and red geometric design is bound to be fashionable again. It’s a very student boy duvet cover; really dark and well you just know it’s the type that his Mum sent him to University with, and then washed in the holidays, and between that day and they day she washed it, it is extremely unlikely to have been removed from his bed.

I came across a lot of duvet covers like it when I was still a gallivanting. I think it is the reason why I got my own accommodation as quickly as possible so I never had to go through the disappointment that you get when fuelled up by the moment you are swept in his arms and anticipation is at its peak and then you see his duvet cover. Well you know that moment? It’s gone, gone for good and suddenly you just don’t feel like it anymore. A lot of young men were crossed off my list for poor aesthetic taste in the bedroom department.

Perhaps boys should take note here, the duvet cover you choose and they way you tend it, or not, as the case may be can have a direct correlation as to how successful you are on the, let’s call it, romantic front.

Suffice to say, Dear Charlie’s duvet cover has got to go but trying to find him a new one that’s the problem. (Some at this point might be wondering why Dear Charlie seems to have separate linen to me, well we take a pragmatic view in our household in that we both like to function in the morning and what with his snoring and my insomnia we have separate rooms thus we require separate linen. It also heightens that need for him to have linen that I like but that’s not too girly ‘cos face it both people have to be comfortable with the choice.)

Anyway I have been looking, and looking and looking. I’ve tried Next, The White Company, John Lewis, M&S and now I’ve found Dorma…I think I could have the answer to our dreams.

I am extremely fussy about my bed linen. Dear Charlie says it borders on paranoia. I cannot bear synthetic fibres and have an abhorrence of flannelette – however cosy and warm some may feel it to be. I prefer cotton and if pushed I will opt for silk as long as it is white ‘cos I still have ghastly associations of a water bed with black silk bed clothes. Suffice to say that was not a good night and the poor man I was with must have been so disappointed - I suffer terribly from motion sickness…

That aside, I am obsessed with thread count and where the cotton is sourced to make my bed linen – up until now it has had to be from Egypt and at least a 300 thread count making it nice and soft.

I’ve lost you on thread count haven’t I? Briefly thread count is the number of threads per square inch in both directions in the weave. The higher the thread count, the more luxurious the feel of a fabric and softer it is. But beware, as a higher thread count usually means that the threads are thinner and may not wear as well. Also the higher the thread count the more expensive it is and there’s the rub. I think I have expensive tastes. I love the White Company and it’s wonderfully grown up designs but unfortunately the items I like are usually just too expensive for me, John Lewis does some great Egyptian Cotton but here I personally have a problem with the designs – at present there are none I particularly like – unless of course they are very expensive. Now I have found Dorma – and it seems I may have hit the jackpot. A whole host of designs and seriously good prices. I am willing to take a closer look.

Some are just too fussy and I wonder at the embroidered ones, just how long will they last in my household with boys and dogs and well just the rough handling they’ll be expected to undergo?

But I’ve been given a sneak preview Dorma are launching a new co-ordinated range called Capri, available exclusively in Dunelm Mill, with blue and cream stripes and spots (a soft blue that appeals to the girl in me and is not so girly as to send Dear Charlie running for the hills). It meets my exacting criteria of 100 per cent cotton and it has a 300 thread count. Problem is I’m going to have to wait until the end of January 2010.

I suppose I’ll just have to be abstemious this holiday season – or perhaps I shall just send him an invite to come up and see me sometime…corridor creeping does add that extra frisson don’t you think?