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I’m moving the blog.
Life has changed so much in the past 12 months that pixie dust and porridge just doesn’t really fit any more.
If your up for joining me on the next leg of my journey here, at Take Me Down To The Shore.
Lots of Love,
Well a bit cold, damp with a touch of wind. The house is a mess and my supplies of Scottish tea are running low, I’m a touch home sick and there’s nothing on t.v. What is a girl to do?
I’ve decided to enforce a bit of a schedule on myself, because pottering about the house aimlessly hasn’t really worked for me and things don’t get done. The house is still over run with spiders and nothing has been painted, I have perfected a few recipes for sweets and cake that I might throw the blogs way, just to see how it goes down. I can’t seem to stop by fattening up all of blokes friends and family, I have to attack al of you as well. Typical Hebridean, no one is happy until they have been over fed.
I was so excited about the house when we first moved in, but i think that my excitement got diluted with the drudgery of house work. So much dust, so many spiders. Seriously it’s been one hell of a spidery summer. Cutting the mammoth hedges back has helped, but getting rid of the cobwebs in this house is like painting the fourth road bridge, it’s never-ending. Tomorrow I start job hunting properly, so routine is the aim of the week. Joy.
Rich has done a lot, he’s been amazing actually, his days are pretty broken up with split shifts and he still manages to not be worn out by my over excitement when he comes home. And dude, I get pretty excited, I’ve no one else to talk to but the cat from next door who comes to hang out and guard my washing line. I take a wild tear to get a room sorted, the sitting room Must Be Complete because the World Will End or I’ll get disheartened. So he puts up curtain rails or cuts the hedge on his break. Even though he’s never cut a hedge before, so it looks a bit forlorn but what the hell I’m afraid of heights and the hedge trimmer.
This week I will paint the master bed room, finish my tee-shirt quilt and apply for the super awesome job I want. I’ll got to knit night, go out for the day with Rich’s sister and plant some bulbs in the garden. I will finish the little cardigan for Marian’s impending baby, I will bake some cup cakes and decide on my costume for Halloween.
Love Minnie xoxo
The sun is shining, bloke has ribs in the slow cooker and I’m about to embark on a frantic lets-make-the-house-look-spider-free spree. This can mean only one thing, we’re having a barbecue! Bloke does the meat side of things and I make the death punch (we’re going for a luminous green this time) and the cake (blueberry boy bait). Should be lots of fun, I’m wishing I had my camera though. Might be time to fire off some emails to see if i can get a replacement cable.
Being unemployed is lonely, I’ve been doing lots of sewing though. My tee-shirt quilt is almost done, so I’m going to theme the spare room around it. Which is a nice way of saying everything that doesn’t have a home will be in the spare room and I’ll eventually paint it up so its cohesive to some extent at least.
Once my craft room has been painted and all suave looking I’ll share pictures but at the moment I’m afraid is just a desk and some boxes. My sewing machine is my best friend at the moment, even if the crackberry does take crap photos. Oh well never mind…
The new house has a lot of potential, I’m so glad we’re allowed to paint the decor is mostly a bit dull but in some places its just plain bizarre. The master bedroom is mint green and blood-red, and a patchy red at that which just helps to conjure images from bad B movies.
Anyway I must be off, cake to make and packing boxes to hide in our Harry Potter cupboard. It’s a good way to spend a Saturday.
Hope you’re all having a lovely weekend,
So We’ve been in the new house for a couple of weeks now, but we’re only just getting round to sorting out internet connections and what not.
I spend my days wrangling spiders and making confectionery. Its a good way of making friends, home made sweets I mean.
I’ll start posting again once we have a proper internet connection (blogging off the crackberry ftw) and when I’ve located the cable for the camera.
Love Minnie x
So we’re impulsive, and we left hardly anytime to find a place. So I have no idea where in going to be living (well that’s a lie, Loughborough somewhere), when I’m moving (also a lie, some point this month) or anything! It might be prudent at this point to mention that I have a fully fledged anxiety disorder that while sounds awful, has actually morphed me into this super organised uni drop out who only has her student loans as debt, does scary things like budget and is never with out a pen. (Really i have a thing about pens I have at least three on my person at all times, my hand bag is stuitably large.) Not knowing where I’m going to be living isn’t so good for the anxiety though. So I’m tackling the beast by trusting the bloke and being one of those horribly efficient packers, I will count all the spoons dammit!
I’m also currently working up the bravery to find me a new knitting group on ravelry. It’s taking a few days, its like i want to come across as a nice sane girl who you want to be friends with, but when it boils down to it I am just a football loving, mild eccentric to raises a mean lamb. Colostrum from a bag anyone? no takers? Aww but it makes for such happy lamb tummies!
The impending new house (where ever it may end up being) does mean that I get to pester my dad on the crafty front, he’s a carpenter by trade and years at sea have left him very talented when it comes to rope work. I shall be pestering him, hell I might even get away with taking photos and such.
So how should I while away my last few weeks in Scotland? I don’t know how many I have and so far all I have pinned down is that I’m going to have a leaving party at Tallman’s at some point and that I need to get all the things in all the boxes.
Lots of love,
Tomorrow Punkboy is off to view a rental, which will hopefully be lovely and have our names on the lease. It is a cheap lease though, so I’m having horrible visions of a grey, menacing slightly moldy property. This is bias on my part created by the high rental price in Stirling. Seriously, the rent on a two bed flat in Stirling will get you the lease on a three bed house else where. You know a house with a front door, a garden and if you are very lucky a shed!
It takes a lot of trust to do this, I won’t see this place till I move in. Crazy right?
Anyway I’m going to go off, make a bacon sandwich and wonder what happened to little miss in control.
I am that girl you knew in University who made curtains out of an old duvet set, who always had painkillers/plasters/whatever in her handbag (mine is a behemoth black patent number from Tesco). The one who will meet any crisis with tea, soothing words and a swift kick up the arse. I will grant the fact that I am so good at the dealing with an academic crisis because to be honest I kind of sucked at the whole academic route, I could only be arsed if the class was interesting. Not the best when you’re in undergrad history. Still the point being I’m not the Drama llama, I am the girl who will when cornered in a club by an upset girl who starts on the “why does every one think I’m a slut?” make the suggestion that shorts are the solution, and a fuck you attitude.
Why then am I making pains to detail the ways in which I am a boring old fart at the ripe old age of 22? Because I’m running away. I am packing up all my stuff, giving away the things I don’t need or can’t transport and running away with Punkboy. Oh and I’ve dropped out of University,just in case you were wondering.
This dork is running away to England to be with her boyfriend of not very long (I will grant the fact that I have known Punkboy for years, but it’s different when there’s nakedness involved.) I have less than six weeks left on my lease, my friends are all super happy for me, even Tallman. My Dad is making happy noises, I’m blithely ignoring all the noises that pertain to small people. My mother’s family are all horrified, in a state of catatonic shock. Can’t be helped, I’m not like them, I take after Mum but she died in 1996 so i can’t get her opinion on it all but Dad thinks she’d be stoked for me.
So am I crazy? Surely the midlands can’t be much worse than the Central belt? And why do I always end up living so far inland when I love the coast?
Anyway take care for now, I’m off to raid the cupboards (I’m house sitting for Dad’s girlfriend)
Love Minnie x
The past few weeks have been hella busy, much updating later.
Just now I’m a hung over mess and I’m going to mooch off to the library to photocopy some extracts and avoid paying my fines. Go me.
What has every one been up to these past few weeks?
love Minnie xoxox
I am the proud owner of a Blackberry, so now I can do things like live blog without carting the lap top about. That said I am writing this in bed, in my defence however there is no internet connection in my flat. Crazy I know but we are poor girls.
I’m going to potter off in search of coffee and I shall post later on last weeks mischief and what not.
So today I’m in a mood to be domestic, I’m going to go home, bake and do some washing. I am not suddenly Martha Stewart. I do however only have a month left in my current flat and I have too much stuff. It seems to be a pretty common problem, and im determined to sort it out.
There will be a rather large suitcase of clothes going to the charity shop by friday. I am not one of these people who can be ruthless, a dress might be horrid and make me look like a chav but the memories attached.. I get emotionally attached. Then there are the pieces you can’t thow away because you never know when you might need it. Like the silver sequins strapless number that’s two sizes two big?
I need help, a good friend and a bottle of nice rum. I admit it.
I own five little black dresses. I have been known to buy the same dress or top in multiple colours because it is just so nice.
And yet I am not a stylish girl day-to-day, I am the kid in the back of the lecture theater in scabby jeans, skate shoes and an old beat up Dropkick Murphys hoody. I lope around campus looking like I’m just visiting. I work as a bouncer, my hair’s natural state is 80s fashion mullet .
So why dear reader do I have this problem with my over flowing wardrobe?
Each dress, cute little jacket or pair of heels calls to me, “In me you won’t be a wild girl, I shall transform you into a delicate swan” or some such mince. In the case of the silver sequined strapless number I want to don a pair of fairy wings and run around the park.
Clothes change the way you can be perceived and its something I always loved as a teenager. It’s just an extension of the childhood dress up box. Do I want to be the bookish neo goth tonight all in black with arse skimming hemlines and clompy boots tonight? No, she’s not allowed out till Thursday. Tonight I’m going to rock scabby jeans and bake rainbow cupcakes.
If I don’t get buried under a sea of sequins and frills I will get back to you, I might even break out some pictures from my new camera.
Take care and have fun,