James got me a few things all of which were utterly amazing. And he is a very naughty boy for spending way too much... but I love him for it:
- An absolutely stunning set of silver jewelry from a designers called Magnolia. He got earrings, bracelet and a pendant. They are all silver, no stones, and have a silver hollow 'beads' design.
- A new digital camera, which he mainly got because he hates mine! It is a Panasonic Lumix with 10x optical zoom. he also got a memory card and a leather case. I intend to keep this on me as much as possible so I can take pictures of everyday things that inspire me.
- A Back to the Future Lexicon reference book, which is full of facts and little-known canon about the films, comic books, games and animated series. It even includes TV commercials that feature Back to the Future characters. It is awesome! I wish I had it when I wrote my Back to the Future dissertation at Uni.
- A CD called Now That's What I Call Musicals. It is mainly songs from Broadway and West End productions but there are a few films. I love it :)
Here is a run down of he rest of my presents from friends and family in no particular order:
- A digital radio. Very happy about this. We listen to the radio a lot now as the car doesn't have a CD player. So now I am looking forward to a radio at home as well. We have it in the kitchen so I can listen while I cook. Plush it is lime green. Hellz yeah.
- An American themed A4 size tapestry framed from my aunt and uncle. I suspect my aunt sewed it herself.
- Set of 4 cookbooks from my nana. I have made 2 meals from them so far but have another 5 planned for this week.
- Cheese baker - so we can have yummy melty brie with bread. Mmmm.
- Owl shaped candles
- Purple scarf (I do like my purple)
- Homemade biscuits from my friend Lanny. Yum.
- Star Trek Scene It - so excited to play this. Also scared because I haven't watched any Star Trek in ages - I need to brush up first!
- Xmas decoration
- Spice box... it smells so goooooood
- Napkins
- Chopping board and pizza cutter (lots of foody/home type presents this year)
- Some of my mum's first printed cards (Orwell Cards on Etsy)
- Crochet book. It is a little Q&A book with helpful tips and advice. Very useful!!
- Lavendar handwash and lotion.
- Family Fortunes mini game. Eh-Erhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
- Giraffe ornaments that fit together from my aunt Sue. Giraffe's is our thing if you don't know!
- £40 from my other nana.... well £20 for me and £20 for James :) I have spent most of mine on two new handbags in the sales.
- Scarf, gloves and mittens set. They are lush. Black and multicolour! The hat is like a berret. I look so hipster.
- Fluffy scarf for when I go out all posh like. Innit.
That is the lot :)
Wednesday 2 January 2013
Sunday 26 February 2012
27 Feb - Weaslaphobia aka, getting my hair did PART TWO
Read PART ONE first by clicking here.
So in part one I have told you about my two most vivid memories that have contributed to my mild form of weaslaphobia. However I have another reason for not liking most hairdressers, and I warn you that this may get slightly ranty.
While looking at salons to see where I should get my latest haircut I picked the one I did for a very specific reason. The pictures on the website, and indeed on their Facebook page, were of real people, with real haircuts.
Endless websites I visited with pictures of models with hair that no one in their right mind would walk in and ask for. And no offence to the stylists but I doubt the regular stylist in Ipswich hasn't got much experience with top fashion session styling.
I looked through website after website with pictures of women with orange hair in the shape of an arrow, or a fringe that comes down to the nostrils, or an up-do so heavily styled that I would be taking out pins for the rest of my life. Funnily enough, when i go to the hairdressers... I kind of just want a plain ol' haircut.
I am quite able to make my hair look stupid by myself at home with a bottle of hair dye, a few hundred bobby pins and style tips from The Tribe.
Damnit... now I want to buy the entire boxset of The tribe and watch it all.
So in part one I have told you about my two most vivid memories that have contributed to my mild form of weaslaphobia. However I have another reason for not liking most hairdressers, and I warn you that this may get slightly ranty.
While looking at salons to see where I should get my latest haircut I picked the one I did for a very specific reason. The pictures on the website, and indeed on their Facebook page, were of real people, with real haircuts.
Endless websites I visited with pictures of models with hair that no one in their right mind would walk in and ask for. And no offence to the stylists but I doubt the regular stylist in Ipswich hasn't got much experience with top fashion session styling.
I looked through website after website with pictures of women with orange hair in the shape of an arrow, or a fringe that comes down to the nostrils, or an up-do so heavily styled that I would be taking out pins for the rest of my life. Funnily enough, when i go to the hairdressers... I kind of just want a plain ol' haircut.
I am quite able to make my hair look stupid by myself at home with a bottle of hair dye, a few hundred bobby pins and style tips from The Tribe.
Damnit... now I want to buy the entire boxset of The tribe and watch it all.
27 Feb - Weaslaphobia aka, getting my hair did PART ONE
Yesterday, I got my hair did. This may not seem like a big deal but it was for me, for in actual fact I had not been to the hairdressers since November 2010, when I had my hair cut short for my marriage to James. In fact I would go so far as to say I have a mild form of weaslaphobia (fear of hairdressers).
I think it was the day before our ceremony and I went along to an appointment in this tiny little hair studio where my mum's hairdresser was based. When I arrived someone was sitting with their head in foils. I was slightly confused as there was only one hairdresser, but I put it from my mind. She went about wet cutting my hair (this is when they spray with water rather than wash it - always a dangerous method for hair as thick as mine) and after a little while said something like "Well that's all I have time for - I take it your mum told you I wouldn't have long?" Hmm. No. No she didn't.
Turns out James had told her not to tell me that there wasn't very much time because it would stress me out and upset me. He was right. Alas, I went home look like a mushroom that had grown hair and then been electrocuted. I then spent the next three months having to style my darn locks every morning. Oh there is something I should mention... I like low maintenance hair. Anything that has to be styled every day is the word's biggest no-no for me.
The memory of the November 2010 haircut, along with other horrifying hair memories, has somewhat put me off hairdressers. An earlier memory, for example, from when I was still at infant school is when my mum thought it would be a great idea for my sister and I to have pixie cuts. It was not a great idea.
Rather than look cute and dainty like the pixie cut made Emma Watson look... on a person like me - y'know, someone who isn't stunningly gorgeous with a top team of hair gurus at hand - it definitely could be described more along the boyish and butch kinda lines.
I remember thinking at the time of the haircut "Oh crap this is awful... this is terrible... this is badddd".I even tried to ask the hairdresser to cut it more when she asked if I was happy in desperation that it might look at all different. It made it worse.
So there I was, just a little thing of 6 or 7 with the world's worst haircut. My best friend from junior school once told me: "I would have been your best friend sooner except for that terrible hair cut. I didn't want people to think I was friends with you when you looked like that in case they hated me too". Suffice it to say that this is not a friendship that has stood the test of time.
I think it was the day before our ceremony and I went along to an appointment in this tiny little hair studio where my mum's hairdresser was based. When I arrived someone was sitting with their head in foils. I was slightly confused as there was only one hairdresser, but I put it from my mind. She went about wet cutting my hair (this is when they spray with water rather than wash it - always a dangerous method for hair as thick as mine) and after a little while said something like "Well that's all I have time for - I take it your mum told you I wouldn't have long?" Hmm. No. No she didn't.
Turns out James had told her not to tell me that there wasn't very much time because it would stress me out and upset me. He was right. Alas, I went home look like a mushroom that had grown hair and then been electrocuted. I then spent the next three months having to style my darn locks every morning. Oh there is something I should mention... I like low maintenance hair. Anything that has to be styled every day is the word's biggest no-no for me.
The memory of the November 2010 haircut, along with other horrifying hair memories, has somewhat put me off hairdressers. An earlier memory, for example, from when I was still at infant school is when my mum thought it would be a great idea for my sister and I to have pixie cuts. It was not a great idea.
Rather than look cute and dainty like the pixie cut made Emma Watson look... on a person like me - y'know, someone who isn't stunningly gorgeous with a top team of hair gurus at hand - it definitely could be described more along the boyish and butch kinda lines.
I remember thinking at the time of the haircut "Oh crap this is awful... this is terrible... this is badddd".I even tried to ask the hairdresser to cut it more when she asked if I was happy in desperation that it might look at all different. It made it worse.
So there I was, just a little thing of 6 or 7 with the world's worst haircut. My best friend from junior school once told me: "I would have been your best friend sooner except for that terrible hair cut. I didn't want people to think I was friends with you when you looked like that in case they hated me too". Suffice it to say that this is not a friendship that has stood the test of time.
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