Martini Mummy

Really, I just don't care

2012-01-21T12:28:00.000Z

On one of my journeys home from work this week, I picked up on this thread from Mumsnet which made me chuckle. It started as a list of things people really couldn't care less about, and then developed into a hate list of all the things that annoy people. I preferred the first bit and thought I'd join in with the top ten things that I just don't care about:

1. Pets. Especially dogs. They are not children.
2. People who put their pets in clothes. See above.
3. Other people's holiday photographs. Well done for going. I'm not interested what it looked like.
4. Your children's sleeping/eating/potty training habits. It's enough to have to deal with my own. I don't need to live through yours too.
5. American 'sports' (I use the term loosely). With the exception of ice hockey - that's okay. World Series? You'd think that would include some other countries. Apparently not. So don't bother me with it.
6. People who moan constantly, but do nothing about whatever's upsetting them. Put up, or shut up.
7. Reality television programmes. I don't know who you are and I don't care. Don't irritate me.
8. The latest Nintendo/Xbox/Sega-whatever. Who on earth has the time?
9. Switching energy/phone/broadband providers to save about 20p a year. It costs more than that to research it.
10. Cars. If it works when I put the key in the ignition, we're good to go. Couldn't care less what size engine it has, how many miles to the gallon or anything else.

The worst thing about writing this? Realising I could go on...

A new dawn in cleansing has arrived at Martini Towers

2012-01-11T21:08:00.003Z

Now, I'll be honest. When I opened my Christmas present from my sister (who, for those that are not regular readers, lives in New York) I'll openly admit I didn't have a clue what it was. I had never heard of a Clarisonic Mia and I certainly had no idea how to use one. But, I was about to be very pleasantly educated.

A quick bit of google research taught me that:
1. It is the smallest Sonic Skincare Cleansing System, an electric face brush using technology called 'Sonic Cleansing' - a way of brushing your skin to remove dirt and oil while cleansing
2. It is a one-button, one-speed, one-minute device that comes in a variety of colours
3. It's completely waterproof - so its safe for even me to use in the shower
4. It cleanses six times better than with your hands
5. It prepares skin for better absorption of creams, serums and moisturisers
6. It's gentle enough to be used twice a day

(See for yourself on the Clarisonic website)
Moreover, google revealed that this has actually been on the market for a while. My sis assures me these are massive in the US - and in the UK, they've had some very positive reactions too - I've just missed them. Shame on me.

My sister knows me well. I love a gadget and I love my beauty products, so something that combines the two was always going to appeal. And funnily enough, during my recent trip to the States I briefly considered buying the Neutrogena Wave Power Facial Skin Cleanser. I didn't because, although it's considerably cheaper than the Mia (it's available in the UK for £15 - it was about $13 in Target), I decided I'd probably never use it. So, when I opened my present, I was delighted.

The unit is completely waterproof - it has an innovative way of charging - it's called a pLink charger - that attaches magnetically. The first time, they recommend charging for 24 hours, although obviously the voltage in the US is half that of the UK, so it was quicker here. Once charged though, it lasts for 20 minutes.

I was keen to get on with it. It's so simple to operate, it's untrue. Literally, there is one button and it shuts off automatically after one minute, so you can't overdo it. The brush is gentle yet really effective - it left my skin feeling lovely and smooth. I did think I'd only use it in the evening (mornings are pretty time critical at Martini Towers) but I've been using it twice a day since I charged it.

The pack does come with a small tube of cleanser, and my very generous sister also bought me some Clarisonic Refreshing Gel Cleanser, so I'm set for the moment. However, you can use with any cleanser, so you don't even have to switch from a brand that you're partial to. Always a winner in my book.

The brush heads are replaceable, and they recommend changing them every 2-3 months. This is not the cheapest exercise in the world. You can buy the Mia on amazon.co.uk and at various other outlets for £120. The replacement heads cost around £20. But, and it's a big BUT, I personally think this is money very well spent. (Or, get a generous sibling to buy you one for your birthday). I can't comment (yet) on the long-term results, but over the past week, my skin has improved considerably. I'll report back in three months on the longer term effects.

My overall verdict: it's pricey, but it's worth it. Buy one.

Travelling BC (before children) vs travelling with kids

2012-01-04T15:27:00.000Z

Well, we've made it. 9 hours out and 7.5 hours back, on the mighty American Airlines. Despite the aircraft looking concerningly like it was recently used to film Pan Am (seriously, televisions in the ceiling of the plane is something I didn't realise was still possible), the crew were helpful and it we couldn't really have asked for a better experience at the airports or in the air. Booking with BA was a mistake, but that's another story.

But, I can't help comparing the whole experience to a time when air travel was a very different beast. Before I had children, this is roughly what I had to look forward to when travelling:

- 24 hours before flying - check-in online. Obviously, no issues here. Consider whether or not to pay the 'special offer price' to upgrade. Generally decide against it, thinking I'll save the money to shop at the airport
- 2.5 hours before flying - pack. No real planning required - just throw a few things into a bag. Anything I forget, I'll buy when I get there. Argue with relevant travel partner that this should have been done earlier. Head to the airport.
- 1.5 hours before flying - get to airport. Check in bag and head to security. Curse people with children that take hours to dismantle all their luggage / pushchairs / hand luggage for the x-ray machines. Tut under my breath as I swan past them with only my coat and my handbag to go through the machine.
- 1.25 hours before flying - shop. Wander round duty free, buy make up / perfume / gadgets / clothes. Have a quick look round Boots and buy whatever it is I've inevitably forgotten.
- 1 hour before flying - head to the bar. No matter what time of day it is, it's always wine o'clock at the airport.
- 30 minutes before flying - check the board to see if the plane is boarding. If it is, order a final drink to help the journey along.
- 15 minutes before flying - the board now says 'final call'. Consider buying another drink - depends how far away the gate is.
- 5 minutes before flying - head to gate. Discover the gate is bloody miles away, break into a gentle jog and make it just as they are closing the doors. Settle in my seat and wait for the drinks trolley to arrive.

I would like to point out that this system never failed me - I have not yet missed a flight.

And the routine for the most recent trip - with two children and me being six months pregnant:

- 1 week before flying - start packing for the kids. Also call the airline, discover there are no children's meals and that we can't sit together as a family. I'll do a separate post on this, but in short, after a week of trying we finally discovered that we couldn't check-in online and couldn't do anything to change our horrendous seat allocation.
- 1 day before flying - finish packing for the kids. Start and finish my packing. We have a total of 10 items - 3 x suitcases (one for me, one for Mr. Martini and one for the Martini children), 2 x car seats, 1 x pushchair, 1 x change bag (for me as hand luggage), 1 x back pack (Mr. Martini's hand luggage) and 2 x trunki's. These are brilliant by the way - highly recommended. For all the toys you need at the airport and on the plane to entertain the children. If I wasn't pregnant, it would also have contained a bottle of vodka for me.
- the night before we leave - load the car so we're ready to go.
- day of the flight - 5.30am - wake up, get dressed and then get the kids up. Give them a snack and then get in the car.
- 6.30am - head to the airport.
- 7am - arrive at the airport. Unload our 10 bags onto two trolleys and push them to the check-in desk. This takes half an hour. Oh, and our flight departs at 11.30am. We are at the check-in desk a record four hours before we take off.
- 7.30am - check-in. As previously mentioned, we couldn't do this online, so it takes quite a bit of time.
- 8am - we now only have four hand luggage bags - light in comparison! Prepare ourselves for the security checks. Queue patiently, get stopped, have to go through our bags, produce the toddler food supplies and wait for them to be security checked. Try and stop the kids running back through the security scanners, which they find very entertaining. Try not to irritate all the other passengers with all our coats, bags, shoes and other random kit while the security guards check our food. Fail to stop Elder Martini riding around on his trunki making ne-naw noises and sometimes knocking into other people's legs. (His trunki looks like a fire engine.) Make huge sighs of relief when we're finally given permission to progress and head through to the air-side section of the terminal
- 9.15am - head straight to the airport lounge (okay, some habits are too hard to give up). Get the kids breakfast. Attempt (and generally fail) to get a cup of tea and some toast whilst the kids are distracted looking at the planes. This doesn't last long.
- 10am - begin checking the screens to see when the gate opens.
- 10.30am - head to the gate to get a good spot close to the front. Make ourselves known to the crew and ask if we can board early. We can't - families don't get priority - so just wait until our row block is called.
- 11am - settle on the plane. Unpack half the toys from the trunkis and get the water beakers ready for the kids. And then sit back to prepare for the nine hour flight.

What a difference two children make. Weird thing is, I wouldn't have it any other way. (Although I'll admit, I did look ever so slightly wistfully at the duty free shop at T3 as we walked straight past it.)

A week of learning...

2011-11-19T10:07:00.003Z

It's been quite a week. I've been kayaking with Olympic Gold medalist Tim Brabants twice (well, okay, he kayaked and I stood on the bank - well, come on - the water is about 10 degrees. I'm not that dedicated) - once at Dorney Lake and once at Teddington. Dorney Lake is absolutely beautiful - if you've got tickets for next year's rowing, you're a lucky person.

Courtesy: Dorney Lake

Going kayaking (okay, okay, watching) with the best person in the world is certainly an eye opener. This is what I've learnt:

1. The kayak itself is absolutely bloody tiny. Well, it's almost five and a half foot long, but it's so narrow. Seriously, I doubt that I could fit in it with my hips. It's literally razor thin.

2. As a result of its narrowness (not sure if that's a word), it's almost impossible to balance in. You can see what happened to someone who tried it here. Unless you're an Olympic athlete, in which case you've spent a lot of time practising, and then you're so good, you can stand on it. While it's in the water. Showing off? Maybe.

3. Most of your body is actually not in the kayak. Interesting.

4. The water in the Thames is cold. And not very appealing. And you can tell this just by standing next to it and looking. Believe me.

5. If you want to sport impressive core muscles, the trick is to learn to balance on a swiss ball. Standing up. And then, just to set yourself another challenge, throw a medicine ball about with a friend who is also standing on a swiss ball. And then repeat the whole exercise. Frequently.

I'm beginning to realise why I'm not an Olympic kayaker. To be fair, a distinct lack of talent might also have something to do with it. But I'm focusing on the dislike of cold water. For the time beginning.

Happy Halloween! (How very American of me)

2011-10-30T13:47:00.000Z

I honestly cannot believe it's Halloween already. Where did 2011 go? Here at Martini Towers we really have go into the Halloween spirit (which I know goes against everything it should do here, but really, I think it's just a bit of harmless fun). Now that we live in the sticks, where the neighbours are friendly and the children actually come knocking for a chocolate bar, rather than to throw eggs at you, we've gone the whole hog and put carved pumpkins out in the front garden. Yes really. If any of the neighbours have spoken to Mr. Martini, no doubt now they'll assume he definitely is American (as opposed to Canadian).

Elder Martini and I baked some Halloween cakes this morning. Okay, they are just fairy cakes, with rather scary icing and chocolate buttons. I'll be surprised if any last until tomorrow. But, we are rather proud of our efforts:

(That's orange glitter by the way. Can't go wrong with a bit of glitter.) In other news, you'll be pleased to know that the Christmas shopping is coming along nicely. But, I'm sure this organisation can't last for long...

New home, new beginnings

2011-09-24T08:14:00.000+01:00

Moving house is undeniably hard. Dealing with the seller, the purchaser (love the chain system that is so successful in England), the solicitors and the estate agents is nothing but fun, fun, fun. But, after the contracts are signed, the removal people have gone and you've made your first cup of tea, apparently the real work begins. And I haven't done this with children before (Mr. Martini doesn't count), so I was totally unprepared for how difficult it would be to unpack and organise stuff. On that note, where did all this stuff come from? How come we all ready fill a four bedroom house, complete with loft and garage, when we came from a three bedroom flat with no storage? How does that work? Maybe the removals people accidentally unloaded an extra truck at our house? We wouldn't know, because I haven't got to the end of the boxes yet.

Living in the provinces is turning out to be quite fun. Admittedly, the commute isn't exactly a dream (I think I can walk faster than a good number of South West trains) but the lifestyle more than compensates. We have a ten foot trampoline (courtesy of Martini grandparents on the US side) in the garden for goodness sake. Who could ask for more? Certainly not elder Martini, who plays on it everyday. I think he'd sleep out there if he could.

There is more to write, but unfortunately the Martini children are in the process of killing each other over a jigsaw puzzle. I will return.

Moving on...

2011-08-12T20:46:00.000+01:00

Well, it's been a long time coming, but we finally have a move date. 23 August to be exact. It hasn't been easy. To be honest, I think I've aged 32 years, but that's another story. We exchange next week - at which point, the bottle of Verve Cliquot that's currently on ice (and has been since about the end of May) will be opened and inhaled. Obviously we'll wait until the children are in bed.

In other exciting news, I've discovered that I'll be attending this year's BOA Ball. This is often referred to as the Oscars of the Olympics - last year, Prince Harry was there don't you know. This year, no royalty has yet been confirmed, but Tom Jones is headlining. Which can be no bad thing. Only concern is that I'll have to find a red carpet dress to wear. Any suggestions accepted. I'll even be able to reuse it at the PR Week awards (yes, we've been nominated. Thank God. I put my neck on the line convincing the firm to pay up the £150 entry fee - hilarious, when you consider they randomly spend hundreds of thousands on random websites that don't work, but that's another story) so I can halve the cost by calculating cost per wear. But, probably still Coast here I come. A trip to Westfield is definitely in order.

It's official - moving house is hell

2011-07-19T12:23:00.000+01:00

Whoever said money is the root of all evil had clearly never moved house. (Although, to be fair, money is causing it's fair share of problems during this move - so maybe not wrong, just misguided.)

Number one - who remembers I hate Southwark council? £156 for a pre-assignment pack that takes almost three weeks to materialise. As you can imagine, my expectations for this pack were high. Such cost, such a long time to prepare - surely, it will be a masterpiece. Almost the work of a genius. Alas, not so. It's approximately (and I am summarising here) four pages long, and I'm fairly sure all they had to do was run a report and hit print. What I really love about Southwark is what you get back from the exorbitant service charges and council tax. To be honest, I'll be glad to be rid of them.

Number two - solicitors. Ours isn't bad, exactly, although I think she could be chasing things a bit more. But the whole mammoth process is slowed down by a combination of our solicitor, their solicitors and estate agents - nothing is quick. I'm almost tempted to become a conveyancor myself. It would certainly be quicker to train and do my own sale and purchase, as opposed to wait for the other parties to come to the table.

Number three - tenants. Now, I have nothing against tenants per se, but these particular tenants need to get out of our new home so we can exchange contracts. I appreciate that in effect we're kicking you out and all that, but chop chop. I want to have some summer in the new place.

Finally, number four - removals companies. What's all that about? How can it only be a few hundred extra pounds to come in and pack up all my stuff, as well as remove it? Surely that distribution of cost is wrong? But, that said, carry on. If you're willing to pack up our whole house for about £300, you crack on. I hate packing so it will save me a job. I'll be too busy sending multiple letters to Southwark announcing my departure. You probably won't miss me, but let me assure you, I won't miss you one jot.

A slightly pox-ridden Martini Mummy Towers could be moving...

2011-06-12T15:56:00.000+01:00

MM Towers is not the best place to be in the world right now. My darling daughter (who, may I remind you is just seven months) has caught the chicken pox. Mini Martini (my two year old son) had it a couple of weeks ago, and that wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but at least we could dose him up with piriton syrup (definitely recommended). Baby Martini, however, is not quite so fortunate (it's not suitable for children under two). All she can make do with is calamine cream, baby calpol and bicarbonate of soda in her bath (yuk - but it is helping). Fingers crossed we're now through the worst, but it is heart breaking to see her suffer so much. If I have any more kids, I'm definitely getting them immunised.

However, in far more exciting news, we've sold our house. Well, I say sold, but of course, this being the English system of selling houses, what that actually means is we've accepted an offer and our crossing our fingers nothing buggers it up. The survey was done last week, so hopefully we should find out if we've passed that test next week. But who knows?

At the same time, we've found a new place to buy - much bigger, fab garden and a separate playroom. It's heaven. It is also, however, in the suburbs. It's probably not very cool to say this, but I'm really looking forward to it. And, in an attempt to make even the commute more bearable, I've decided I'm going to buy a scooter - a Vespa, naturally - to ride into the City, rather than get on the train. In the summer at least. I'm going to do the CBT on Saturday, which should be interesting. I've never even been on a scooter on holiday. But, how hard can it be? I ride a push bike (and a Boris one at that) around London all the time. Surely a motorised version will just be easier? Plus, I'm going to view a second hand scooter tomorrow night (thank you Gumtree). Now, where can I get one of those retro helmets?

Holiday? What holiday?

2011-05-09T22:42:00.000+01:00

Well. That certainly was an interesting three weeks. Let me summarise:

1. This was the holiday of the phantom wedding. In other words, there was no wedding. Which meant there was no holiday in Manhattan. Instead, after hanging out in Washington (Obama was keen to say hi), we headed for the dizzy heights of Long Island. And I don't mean the Hamptons. No. I mean suburbia central. Certainly different from the plans. Now, far be it from me to criticise a non-wedding (I'm a divorcee myself, so a strong believer that if there are any doubts WHATSOEVER then you definitely should not do it). But a getaway in Manhattan this holiday was not.

2. The White House would not let me in. Bastards. They gave some excuses about being too busy, but personally, I think they are threatened by me. Their loss. I did enjoy the Capitol building though. So there.

3. Dulles Airport does not have great shops and is not an ideal place to base yourself for 12 hours with two small children. I am talking from experience. Jet Blue, however, is the airline of choice. They were brilliant. US air traffic control - not so much.

4. British Airways was extremely disappointing. Poor service, poor customer relations and a poor attitude. And yet, I seem compelled to continue flying with them. I have no idea why.

Seeing family (on both sides) was fantastic. Now it's back to business as usual. Apart from this weekend - which sees an enforced family get together of fun. We'll see how that goes.

In the meantime, the house hunt continues. West Molesey (and the Bentalls Centre in Kingston) here we come. Perhaps that suburbia central experience has rubbed off after all....

It's up to you, New York, New York

2011-04-06T21:37:00.000+01:00

We leave in three weeks. There's no doubt that I'm absolutely dreading the travel (not least because I *accidentally* put the wrong date of birth in for my daughter so we could buy her a seat - why on earth there's a restriction on that I have no idea) - approximately 12 hours in airports, taxis and planes will be no fun with a toddler I am certain. But, as the plans come together, I have to admit that I'm genuinely getting excited.

Before we head to NYC, we're making a pit stop in Washington. This is very exciting. There's a plan in the works for me to take a tour of the White House - I've got a feeling it will be exactly like I'm on The West Wing - and apparently Washington at this time of year is beautiful. Then, we're getting on a train (yes, that's how we roll) and going to New York. If the babysitter can be arranged, then Mr. Martini and I will be having a romantic night out at PDT. If there's no babysitter in sight, then it will be a very quite room service meal. But no matter. We will be in a different city and that in itself will be a treat. Even if we're only looking out of the window.

Also, and it's no coincidence, we're staying at The New York Palace, which is right opposite the flagship Banana Republic (my go to shop for staples). Given that Mr. Martini gave away my entire last wardrobe, he can't even moan if I spend more time in there than I do in the hotel. Not for a minute.

Keeping up appearances

2011-03-23T21:35:00.001Z

The very fabulous notSupermum recently wrote an excellent post on making the effort to put on make-up. It made me think - it is actually possible I make more of an effort now than I did before children. I wear make-up to work every day, do my hair and wear heels (although not to commute in - that would just be silly). But I didn't used to bother. Back in the agency days, trainers, jeans and a comb through the hair - I was set to go. These days, I need to look the part - holding your own with 150 partners is no mean feat. Plus, I think it makes me feel more human - and more than 'just a mum'. I am fearful that if I stayed at home, I may disappear into a heap of loungewear with Homes Under the Hammer on in the background (you can't go wrong with that programme, by the way). But I do love to come home from work, take off the suit, take out my contact lenses and feel ready for the evening. Just add wine.

Working Mum

2011-03-05T14:48:00.000Z

Going back to work in a contract capacity has been a fantastic experience for me. I shouldn't really admit this, but it's great to be in a job, but not have to worry about internal politics or any game playing. Just do a good job and go home. It's brilliant. Plus, you always know that you're finishing (or could finish) at the drop of a hat, so if you're not happy, you can walk. If we didn't need to get a mortgage later this year, I would definitely opt to do this from now on.

So, in an attempt to get a permanent job, I've met just about every recruitment firm in London (most of whom are absolutely bloody useless) and had a couple of interviews. One went well, one not so well and one was disastrous. This is mainly because I was a bit over confident - I felt the job was a bit too junior and the pay was below what I wanted - and unfortunately this is what came across. Not my finest hour. But what I have realised is that it's not just about getting a job; I actually want to make the right move for my career. Which is harder than I thought. I'm at second stage with a company that could be a real opportunity - it's in a new sector that's notoriously difficult to get into - but I worry that it could be damaging to go from a top flight firm to a much smaller one. I'm not going to think about this any more just yet - I haven't got the job, so it will be a nice problem to have.

This is when I realised that I'm getting old. This was not the sort of thing I used to care about - pretty much the salary was the only thing that mattered - but now, along with things like benefits and contracted hours, it's a major consideration. I guess it's a matter of time. Things tend to work out for the best.

My life in facts - the top ten

2011-02-15T22:07:00.000Z

1. Finally, at 13 weeks, baby Martini is going through from 10.30pm until about 7am. Quick - book the baby sitter! (In fact, we've already booked the baby sitter. It's a meal out for the grown-ups on Saturday night. No high chairs, bibs or sippy cups in sight. Bliss.)

2. My short term contract finishes on Friday. I've absolutely loved working, but am also looking forward to some time off again. Nothing like having to get up in the morning that makes you realise you've taken 'Homes Under the Hammer' for granted.

3. Yesterday, on the way home on the bus, I sat next to Ashley from Michel Roux's Service. That's just the way I roll. And, if you're wondering, he really does sound like that in real life.

4. My Boris Bike key finally arrived today. Needless to say obtaining that was not a pain free experience, but I won't bore you with the details. I have to say, providing you're not relying on trying to use the terminals (a 'casual' user obviously = loser), the scheme is absolutely brilliant.

5. Elder Martini's cough has returned. Another trip to the doctor ensued. More drugs have been prescribed. More joy for bedtime.

6. Mr. Martini and I have discovered Mad Men. That's the evenings sorted for the next month then.

7. I have discovered Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. TV gold.

8. Plans are afoot for my sister's wedding in New York in April. I'm not sure what dress I'm going to wear yet - there are some good options in Coast. I've been more interested in the kids clothes to be honest. Plus I'm also slightly concerned about the logistics of travelling with two children. Is it really worth taking two pushchairs? Car seats? The list goes on...

9. I accidentally discovered, in an email I fished out of my junk mail, the reading list for my MSc course that starts in September. Not a very studious start. I'd also forgotten that text books apparently need to cost £70 for no reason whatsoever. Let's hope that LSE has a second hand book shop.

10. Did I mention that Baby Martini is sleeping through the night?

Are we nearly there yet? And by there, I mean Friday

2011-02-02T22:26:00.000Z

So, we're over the hump of the week. Thank goodness. It's only been three days, but I'm not finding full-time work, coupled with two children under two particularly easy. It'll be the lack of sleep that's the main problem. Baby Martini only tends to wake up once between about 11pm (I'm just waiting to do that feed now) and 7am - but that one feed does really make all the difference - it means no more than four hours in any one stretch. And I actually need about ten. I am actually slightly worried that I may be scaring my co-workers - although they are still too polite to say anything - which is at least one bonus to freelancing.

It is, in all honesty, slightly weird to be back in the workplace. My brain actually did hurt on Monday - it's been quite a while since I had to look at stats or write a press release. Plus, I missed Homes Under The Hammer. But, having a nanny is absolute bliss. As well as the necessary caring for the baby (good), she cleans (without asking), she does the washing and, joy of joys, she sterilises the bottles and prepares the feeds. That is my least favourite job and is worth the money right there. I'll be sad when the day comes that BM is old enough to attend nursery.

So, three days down, two to go. Roll on Friday. Mr. Martini and I might go for a quick drink at the local (if I'm still awake). Then it will be home for a takeaway to see in the weekend. Rock and roll.

Big Hair - big success

2011-01-14T16:10:00.000Z

Normally, I am absolutely useless at doing my own hair. Make-up isn't a problem but for some reason, I've never been able to fully get the hang of trying to blow dry my own hair - far too tricky to get to the back - I need another pair of hands and ideally eyes in the back of my head. Until now. I saw the Babyliss Big Hair advertised just before Christmas and wanted to get one, but it was out of stock everywhere. But earlier this week, I went to the tiny Boots on the Walworth Road, and there one was.

My expectations weren't that high - I've pretty much tried every gadget going and they don't usually live up to the advert. This, however, is bloody brilliant. Easy to use - even the first time, although it does get better with practice - and the results are excellent. I would highly recommend it. Buy it - you won't regret it.

Happy New Year and all that

2011-01-06T17:36:00.000Z

Well, that's Christmas done for another year. I've packed up the decorations (and sorted them all properly - now we have the storage unit, we finally have enough space to pack properly) and the house has returned to some state of normalness (well, ish). Apart from the fact that we look remarkably like a small branch of the Early Learning Centre, you'd never know it was here at all. And in a way, I quite like that, because you have it all to look forward to again. I'm certainly not one of those that gets sad when it's time to finish Christmas - that's what makes it so much fun.

Less fun is the fact I've been sick over the past few days. And not just a cold, but properly bed-ridden. Awful. And the worst of it is, I missed my personal shopping appointment at John Lewis. Which reminds me, I must call them to rebook.

Now the new year is here, I feel it's time to crack on. Get a new job, lose the baby weight and possibly even move house. I don't really do new year resolutions, but if I did, those would be my three. (Fourth could be 'rebuy my entire wardrobe' - with Mr. Martini footing the bill. Obviously.)

I realised today that I have not exercised for almost six months. This is very bad news. I am completely unfit. I arrived at this conclusion five minutes into the Davina Body Buff workout, which is embarrassing in itself. Usually, I would laugh in the face of such fitness dvds. But, with two children I have unwillingly admitted that the only other type of exercise open to me is running or biking - and for that, Mr. Martini has to be at home to babysit. Which means I can either exercise at some ridiculous time in the morning (why bother going to bed?), in the evening (which, let's face it, is never going to happen) or at the weekends. And my body needs more than twice a week, I assure you. So, after some thorough web research, it seemed like the latest Davina dvd was a good enough choice.

I've never really done one of these dvds before, but I do recommend this one. I don't know if it actually what it promises (a buff body, I assume) but it certainly got my heart going, which can only be a good thing. Yes, I have to keep the curtains closed and the neighbours are probably wondering what's going on, but worth it when it's raining and cold. Sure, it's no substitute for proper exercise, but surely better than nothing.

In an attempt not to completely kill myself, I only did the cardio and abs workout today. There are others - legs, some boxing thing and some I can't remember - I'll report back on how good they are. And, whilst I'm a far way off sharing my weight with you, I'll also try and report on how successful they are. Fingers crossed. Probably would help if I cut down on the cake intake too. One step at a time.

Happy Christmas to me

2010-12-21T13:24:00.000Z

I cannot believe this weather, or the fact that it's only three days until Christmas! Luckily, I'm ready, so I can stay in, enjoy looking out of the window at the snow and eat lots of cake. Perfect.

Before I reached this state of readiness, however, I did have the usual trips round the shops and consequently nearly froze to death. This is mainly because now I have had my baby, the coat I've been wearing for the final stages of my pregnancy is now redundant and, thanks to clothes-gate, I had no coat at all. Not exactly ideal in sub-zero temperatures. So, I decided to treat myself to a new coat (or rather Mr. Martini did the treating - I just did the choosing). And this is what I got:

It's an Arctic Parka from The North Face and it's as warm as a duvet. The hood is fab too. I love it. I would highly recommend this coat if you feel the cold like I do. I wore it all day at the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park and didn't feel remotely cold - and there was a blizzard. Genius.

Whilst I was in the mood to treat myself, I also decided it was high time to purchase a decent change bag. The free one from Pampers/Boots is all well and good, but I need more of a rucksack to carry around all the gear I need for two kids plus myself. Where better than the mighty John Lewis on Oxford Street to consider the various options? Where indeed. After much consideration, I opted for this one from StorkSak:

It's enormous and clever enough to attach to a bugaboo - which is a winner with me. Enough compartments for all my stuff too, which helps. And this brilliant key chain attachment so the days of rooting around for hours on end to fish out my keys are finally over. Mr. Martini was even impressed with that. (He was less impressed about the cost of the bag - £96 - when, in his opinion, we have one already for free - but he was on dodgy ground and wisely decided to keep quiet).

Yes, it may only be days until Father Christmas pops down the chimney, but I'm still a big fan of a treat just to help deal with the excitement. Not, you understand, a sentiment I'll be passing on to my children. I hope.

Three weeks in...

2010-11-30T10:23:00.000Z

I'm finally starting to emerge from the 'newborn fog' - but only just. I can scarcely believe that Baby Martini is already three weeks old - it goes so quickly! Put simply, it's marvellous. I'm not sure if this is because I'm much more aware that I should enjoy it this time, or just because I'm more relaxed - maybe it's a combination of the two. Either way, I'm loving it! Admittedly, I'm not loving the lack of sleep (I'd somehow managed to erase that from my memory) but other than that, it's great.

We had our first major trip out yesterday - shopping, naturally. Not for me, unfortunately (and not really much Christmas stuff either - that's for later this week) but for Mr. Martini - it's his birthday today. I'd also forgotten how many people want to talk to you when you have a brand new baby in the pushchair. Most are lovely, although I can do without the very helpful "Oh, she's hungry" (she's not, I've just fed her) and "Oh, she's cold" (she's not, she has three blankets on. She is tired and needs to go to sleep) comments, but generally, I've never been so popular.

And so, to Christmas. Only 25 days to go. I'm mostly ready and so am looking forward to wandering round Westfield (simply put, the best place ever to go with a newborn) and just enjoying the festivities. I need to buy a beautiful dress for Baby Martini and outfit for Elder Martini to wear on Christmas day. Although this could be done in about five minutes flat, I'm going to do serious research. The truth is that the clothes for baby girls are just better - I'm hoping that the boys clothes improve as they get older. Otherwise, EM will be going to Hugo Boss far earlier than I'd like!

PS Loving the snow!

A Child is Born (finally!)

2010-11-11T15:46:00.000Z

After a very lengthy build up, I'm finally able to report that Baby Martini II was born on Monday, 8 November just after midday. I'm not going to lie - the ten days or so of 'false/early labour' were fairly horrendous, but (as you'd expect), when she arrived it was well worth the wait.

Typically, I'd like to share my birth story - in the end, I'm rather proud of myself. However, if you're pregnant, you may want to hold off reading this post until after you've done the deed. Similarly, if you were in the Antenatal Day Care Unit at St. Thomas' at lunchtime on Monday, I apologise. You know why.

So, here we go:

5am - wake up with some minor stomach cramps. Nothing painful but can't go back to sleep, so wait around in bed until the rest of the family wake up.

7am - I get up with Mr. Martini and help pack Elder Martini off to nursery. Mr. Martini heads to work - "there's no point wasting time off - I'll call if I need you" - famous last words.

8.30am - call my mum to give the daily update that nothing has happened overnight. Minor contractions, but can talk through them - nothing doing. Hang up and decide to have a bath.

9.30am - contractions seem to have eased off. Make some tea and toast.

9.35am - can't eat. Seems a bit weird. Have a couple of majorly painful contractions. Assume it's nothing, take a couple of paracetamol and carry on.

10.30am - decide that even if it's a false alarm, I can't really deal with the contractions on my own any more. Call Mr. Martini and ask him to come home. I say that there's no rush, he can just jump on a bus.

10.45am - "a bus is not fine. Get in a taxi." The contractions are coming fairly regularly and I think about timing them, but haven't got a watch to hand. I figure I can wait until he gets home.

11.00am - Mr. Martini arrives home. He helps me with a couple of contractions and sorts out the kitchen - I never tidied away the breakfast that I didn't eat.

11.10am - my brother arrives to collect Elder Martini things. It turns out Mr. M. had called him on his way home. We decide that my brother should collect Elder Martini from nursery and head over to my parents.

11.15am - horrendous contraction that actually makes me shout out. Mr. M. decides we need to go to hospital. I say that if I can still speak, we're not leaving. He ignores me and forces me out of the door. My brother mentions that he doesn't know how to get to the nursery. I say we can drive him there ("we have time") and then go straight on to St. Thomas'.

11.25am - Mr. M. takes my brother into the nursery to sign out Elder. He comes back to me practically crying in the car. Sitting down and having contractions is not recommended.

11.25am - 11.44am - drive to St. Thomas'. This is the longest journey in the world. I have four contractions. The last one is so painful we have to stop so I can get out of the car and stand.

11.45am - arrive at St. Thomas'. The car park is heaving and we can't find a space. I get out of the car and attempt to walk to the entrance. Mr. M. parks the car. After what seems like forever, he joins me at the lifts.

11.50am - we head to the 7th floor. I have two contractions in the lift. Surprisingly, no one is bothered by my pain, and the lift stops at every floor between Ground and Seven. I'm sure it wasn't a pleasant experience for anyone in the lift.

11.55am - the receptionist on the Antenatal Unit ushers us straight through to the midwives. Mr. M. has to book me in - now I can't speak. I have two really, really, really bad contractions at the booking in desk, in front of the whole waiting room. If any of the pregnant women in there had any questions about labour before I arrived, they certainly don't now. Apart from perhaps: is it too late to go back? Any first-time pregnant ladies have presumably been put off for life. Sorry about that - a less than ideal situation.

At this point, I have assumed I am in proper labour. I have also decided that there's no way I can do this for hours on end. I demand an epidural. Quite loudly. (Again, apologies to everyone in the waiting room). Funnily enough, most of the midwives ignore me - turns out they are sorting me a room and know full well I barely have enough time to get to a room, let alone have an epidural. I, however, have no idea whatsoever. Mr. M. also tells them I wanted to go to the Home from Home Unit (which doesn't do epidurals). I try to shout over him, but unfortunately, the contractions are stopping me from speaking.

12.00pm - I get wheel-chaired into the closest room. (Yes, this is why they are the professionals.) I want to go to the loo - my waters break. And then I have this overwhelming urge to push. Hmmm. It is the strangest feeling in the world. So maybe not enough time for an epidural then?

12.05pm - I get gas and air - which is highly recommended. That helped a lot.

12.15pm - our baby daughter is born. 8lb 4oz and a total darling.

My discharge notes are hilarious. They say: duration of labour - 15min. Unbelievably, it took 40 minutes to deliver the placenta. Which is more annoying than anyone tells you - next time, I think I'll have the injection.

We were home by 9.30pm. In an ideal world, the car journey to the hospital wouldn't have been so painful, and there would have been a parking space right next to the door, but all in all, it was a much better experience than the first birth. So - home birth for the next one? Let's not push it...

Child number two - the story so far...

2010-11-04T12:34:00.000Z

I'm actually starting to think that this is a phantom pregnancy - instead of a baby in there, I have, in fact, just eaten too much cake. It's almost embarrassing how bad my body clearly is at delivering a baby. To give you a quick run down:

Thursday 28 October (that's right, a week ago) - had some mild contractions during the night. Perfectly bearable, but was pleased to think the baby might be arriving earlier than scheduled. (Ahh, the irony.)

Friday 29 October. Had 40 week appointment with my midwife. I told her about the mild contractions. I had a few during my assessment - she confirmed they were proper contractions (not Braxton Hicks) and said that she thought I'd have the baby in the next few days. We almost didn't make an appointment for 41 weeks - but, as it now turns out, it's lucky that we did.

Saturday 30 October. Contractions now getting more painful and increasing in frequency. After a very uncomfortable day, we waited until the contractions were six minutes apart and then headed for the hospital. "It's finally happening," I thought. Chance would be a bloody fine thing.

Sunday 31 October. Nothing. Big fat nothing. Contractions just stop, I get monitored overnight and nothing. To be fair to the staff at St. Thomas', they were lovely, telling me this is very common and to just be patient. So, we go home (via McDonald', for a nutritious, healthy breakfast, naturally), expecting things to pick up again that evening. They did not.

Monday 1 November. Some mild contractions, but essentially nothing.

Tuesday 2 November. As Monday.

Wednesday 3 November. I have now officially begun to question whether or not there is a baby in there. And even if there is, will it ever come out? What is s/he waiting for? Christmas?

Today (Thursday 4 November) - as yet, nothing exciting to report. I've had some quite stomach cramps, but to be honest, I don't think I'll believe anything is happening until the baby comes out. Which could be problematic, but I'll worry about that later.

In short, I am bored. Bored of waiting for it to happen, bored of having to report to numerous people that "no, there's still no baby" and bored of being in mild pain. Yes, I've tried everything (and I do mean everything) to try and encourage this baby out, but I've come to the conclusion they want to stay in there. Obviously, they aren't going to win that battle forever, but for the moment at least, it seems it's 1-0 to the baby. I'll keep you posted.

Time to spare? Some ideas to fill time

2010-10-21T17:00:00.000+01:00

I am almost officially house bound. Whilst some time out may sound appealing to some, let me assure you that I am bored. Out of my skull. Shopping is out and I think I've reached the end of the internet. Naturally, I've already resorted and filed our entire home office, re-organised all the storage in the house and cleaned all the places that you always put off until you have more time. Apparently, that time came.

I have had no choice but to find some alternatives to fill the time. These have included:

1. Getting into House. This programme is bloody brilliant - Hugh Laurie is a genius and makes you proud to be English. Apparently it's the most successful programme in the world, ever - if you use the measure of most watched programme. Good-o.

2. Knitting. Don't laugh too hard, but I am loving a bit of knitting. My Grandmother taught me when I was little, but I haven't done it for years. I bought a couple of Debbie Bliss books, some needles and wool and voila! Baby items galore.

3. Make soap. I promise I'm not adding making jam to this list. But ever since I saw Kirstie do it on Kirstie's Homemade Christmas (which was a brilliant programme by the way) I've thought 'how hard can it be?' It takes quite a while to do, but it's very therapeutic - although I won't be able to sample the results for another four weeks. When the time comes, I'll report on whether it was worth it, or whether I should have just gone to Lush instead.

4. Attempt to master wordpress. This is very traumatic. And is ongoing. I don't want to talk about this any further.

5. Get ridiculously excited about Halloween. I never used to be into Halloween, but last year we had a party and it was great fun decorating the house and carving pumpkins. I'm planning on doing the same this year - without the party, but with more cupcakes. I can't decide when it's acceptable to put the decorations up - I'm thinking this weekend should be okay.

6. Plan for Christmas. Presents, cards, food - the full works. I love Christmas and now the shops have started to stock their seasonal goodies, I feel no further excuse is needed.

If there's anything you feel I'm missing, do let me know - any inspiration gratefully received right now!

The key to success is...

2010-10-13T20:44:00.000+01:00

...organisation. I admit it. I'm a list maker. But it really is true. Today, I had a 'good day'. Last night, for the first time in a while, I made a list of everything I wanted to get done today. Mainly boring chores (like sorting Elder Martini's clothes that he's grown out of to go into storage) that have been hanging over me for a while, but despite the fact I'm not working still don't seem to get done.

All but one item was successfully ticked off the list - and that item (buying Mr. Martini's birthday present - it's not until the end of November, but I'd like to have it sorted before Mini Martini makes an appearance) is top of the list for tomorrow. Also on the list is drawing up the Christmas list. I love Christmas, so this isn't really a chore - I starting my shopping a while back and was actually waiting for the shops to stock cards. I was surprised they arrived as early as they did (is it like this every year and I just missed it?), but I was first in line. Even the shop assistant raised an eyebrow when I took them up to the till.

So, make a list. Hell, make two. If you're like me, just making the list will help make you feel better. Organised? Check. Relaxed? Check. Job done? Check.

8 down, 1 to go

2010-10-01T13:17:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow it will be one month exactly until the baby is due. Thank God. I know I'm not the best at being pregnant, but I really am done with the whole malarkey. It's painful to walk, this baby is HUGE and I'm permanently uncomfortable and the indigestion is making me feel so ill, I can't even enjoy cake (okay, so there is one upside - I'm not putting on weight at the speed of light). But enough of the joys of making life. My main concern is that we're not ready. At all. I know we have a moses basket, but I probably should prioritise finding it fairly soon. And some new born nappies would probably come in handy - Elder Martini's (formerly known as Baby Martini) size 5s might be a bit on the large side.

Apparently the time is also right for me to pack a hospital bag. I remember this well from last time. And I won't be falling for the con - what a total waste of time. A quick google search provides the following necessities (I love the way there are four sections):

For the labour:
- maternity notes (fair enough - I'll give you that one)
- birth plan - don't bother. I can remember it. Get to hospital, get drugs, get baby, get home. Straightforward.
- slippers - okay, although I don't plan on hanging about
- socks - seriously? All that pain and you'll be worried about cold feet? I think not. Besides, I can't even see my feet.
- Old nightdress to give birth in - believe me, you won't care if you're wearing nothing at all
- lip balm - oh yes, because between contractions you'll definitely want to touch up your make up. A small mirror might come in handy too...
- snacks and drinks. Really? I'm sure all hospitals have shops and canteens that you can send your other half to if necessary - but it's not a picnic, for goodness sake - I didn't want to eat or drink anything
- a hairband (see lipbalm)
- pillows - not actually as ridiculous as it sounds. At St. Thomas', you get one. That's not enough. But I'm just throwing some in the back of the car ready for the occasion
- TENS machine - waste of time. Bring on the drugs
- toiletries (see lipbalm)
- music to listen to - I don't know who comes up with this stuff, but it isn't a bloody rock concert. Any ideas that your child will be the next Mozart because he's born to some classical CD will be drowned out by your screams (and quite possibly, your partners)

For the birth partner (oh good, I'm glad he gets a bag too):
- water spray or handheld fan - I'd say dangerous, because it's likely to be thrown back at him
- comfortable shoes - because the ones he goes into the hospital with won't be comfortable? I'd suggest changing them before you go there
- a change of clothes - nice idea. Won't happen.
- watch with a second hand to time contractions - he'll either be wearing it, or won't have one. So doesn't need to be packed
- swimwear - Christ, now it's a swimwear party. I think the idea is he might like to jump in the birthing pool with you. First - I can't imagine that it's very pleasant and second, how big exactly is this pool? Can you do some laps between contractions? Maybe some aqua aerobics to the music set up you've taken with you? Maybe you could give a class to kill some time?
- Camera - if there was a camera anywhere near me at the time, it no longer exists
- address book / mobile phone numbers - now is not the time to be writing to your penpal. Anyone who goes anywhere without a mobile phone is a very rare commodity indeed - chances are, you'll have your own anyway
- snacks and drinks - I suppose he might fancy joining your picnic

For after the birth - remind me, exactly how big is this bag? Is it, in actual fact, a suitcase?:
- a going home outfit - again, nice idea, but it's not a wedding. No one is going to see and no one is going to care
- nursing bras - good idea
- maternity pads and breast pads - yes, agree, these are worth having
- nightshirt - okay, I'll give you this too. Better than the awful hospital gowns
- hairdryer - WHAT? Good luck. If you can get into the shower, it will be an achievement. The chances of sitting around preening yourself are gone. Forever, actually, but that's another story
- arnica tablets - it's unlikely you'll care or remember about them at the bottom of your bag
- ear plugs - err, no. You won't be sleeping anyway, so what's the point?

And some stuff for the baby too - but you will actually need that, so fair dos.

You'd better hope that your birthing partner is strong - this lot is more than I'd take on holiday!

Friday Fashion Fix

2010-09-24T11:15:00.000+01:00

It's been quite a while since I've done a 'fashion fix' - mainly because I haven't been able to bring myself to look at any clothes, or even shoes, in my current state. However, with just a month to go now, I'm in the home straight and already thinking about all the delightful things I can wear over Christmas (assuming, of course, that I instantly lose all the baby weight, and actually lose some pre-pregnancy weight too. Well, it is the season of dreams and all that).

This 'colour of the season' camel jumper from Zara is cosy and, at £39.99, a much cheaper alternative to the Chanel versions on the London Fashion Week catwalk.

The Key, The Secret

2010-09-19T13:28:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, total disaster struck Martini Towers. Yes, you'd be forgiven for thinking that nothing could be worse than clothes gate, but Mr. Martini decided that he'd put that theory to the test.

I was in our study, minding my own business and going through some email. Mr. Martini lets himself in and shouts up the stairs "I need your help now. There's been a disaster."

Surely it can't be that bad? Wrong. Somehow, in his haste, Mr. Martini has lost the car key. Worse, he thinks he has thrown it in one of the communal rubbish bins - the sort that have lids and that are so big, you can climb in them (yes, that's experience talking. Patience). Even worse than that, he's left the car parked in the very obviously marked 'NO PARKING' area with the windows open, the hazard lights on and the alarm activated. Brilliant. And, do you want to know the best bit? We don't have a spare key. Fantastic.

What do you do in this situation? Well, obviously, a frantic search ensued - which did include a thorough search of various rubbish bins. Revolting, but necessary. I watched, but did not participate, I hasten to add. Not in my condition. Three hours of searching later, still no key.

Okay, next step. Call locksmiths. This was not a joyous experience. All said the same thing. Given the age of the car (it's ten years old) we have to go to Mercedes directly. It's too old to be compatible with their computers. I was tempted to ask how car thieves overcome this issue, but restrained myself.

So, call Mercedes. Our closest garage is, unfortunately, Chelsea - so not a cheap option. But we're getting desperate. I can almost smell the car clampers getting ready to pounce. After speaking to about 17 helpful assistants, I am finally told that we can order a new key, but it needs to be made in Germany (again, because of the age of the car) and will take about ten days to arrive. Call me a cynic, but I don't think that's going to cut any ice with Southwark Council. However, as it starts to get dark, I'm thinking that having the car impounded will probably ensure it's safety more than leaving it out in the car park with the windows open. However, I'm not sure how long they'd keep it before crushing it.

All in all, none of the options are appealing. We decide that we have to try and move the car into a proper car parking space, so we open the doors and set the alarm off. It continues to go off intermittently until Mr. Martini call rip up all the electrics (under the driver seat) to try and pull out the right fuse. This just gets better and better. He then tries to steer it over to a parking spot. Unfortunately, Mercedes are on top of this sort of thing, and a wheel lock kicks in, almost forcing the car into a brick wall.

By this point, I'm almost wishing someone would come and steal the car - it would solve a lot of problems. And ensure the neighbours don't start throwing eggs at us for creating such disruption. The only option is to call the AA and ask how much it will cost to come and rescue the car and take it to a safe location - namely, my parents, out in the suburbs. It's not cheap (they have to pick up the car and lift it onto the tow truck) but it's the only solution. I call my parents to warn them we're on our way.

"No problem," my mum says, "but why don't we just run the spare key up to you now and save you the fee?"

SPARE KEY? SPARE KEY? They've had one this whole time and we didn't know??? Mr. Martini has never been so relieved in his entire life. So, not a complete disaster - although we're still recovering from the in-depth analysis performed on the local rubbish bins. And yes, another key is on it's way over from Germany. Natürlich.

Southwark Council - the pride of London

2010-09-11T09:38:00.000+01:00

I dread this time of year. As the beginning of September looms, I have to grit my teeth and prepare to do battle - yes, it's the time of year I have to renew our parking permit. Never, in the whole history of the world, has anything been as problematic and traumatic on such a regular basis.

The timing is crucial. The MOT has to be complete and the insurance validated for another year - only then can you apply for the permit. But these documents alone aren't enough. Oh no. I've learnt from past experience. No matter what you take, it's not enough. This year, I took:

My birth certificate
My marriage certificate (because, despite several letters to the council, they have failed to update our records to reflect my married name)
My passport
My driving licence
The log book for the car
My council tax book

After making the submission, I waited with bated breath for the inevitable call. Yesterday, it comes. "Hello, it's Michelle from the One Stop Shop. (I'd also like to point out there's nothing 'one stop' about it. You have to visit two sites to get parking permits - surely defeating the whole purpose of the name. But I digress.) Unfortunately, your log book shows the car is registered somewhere else, so we can't process your application. Sorry about that."

Every year, it's the same. Every year, I give them the previous year's permit number, to prove that they can, in fact, give out a permit for a company car, providing the insurance is in my name. Every year, they won't process it without a fight. And it's inspired. You can't call the very helpful One Stop Shop - you have to go in (open 9.30 until 4.30 - very helpful. I may actually apply for a job here, because it's the best working hours for employees I've come across). And even then, it's a total bloody nightmare. I have yet to obtain a parking permit without at least three separate trips to the One Stop Shop. One Stop my eye.

There is only one solution to this problem. We have to move. Seriously, we had better not be in Southwark by next September. I have officially reached the end of the road with this process.

Keeping up-to-date

2010-09-07T09:43:00.000+01:00

I knew that I hadn't blogged for a while, but I cannot believe the last time was 13 August. That's appalling. I have been ridiculously busy, but given that I'm no longer working, I don't think this is a very reasonable excuse. It's amazing how stopping suddenly makes you more tired. So, a quick re-cap on what's been happening:

1. I have been diagnosed with Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction - SPD for ease. It's basically pain in your pelvis, and it bloody hurts. There's no real way to treat it, although I am seeing a specialist next week to get a very attractive belt to help hold things in place. Lovely. Also, as an extra kicker, there's a possibility I'll end up on crutches before the end of the pregnancy. Lovely again.

2. I've got anemia. I'm prone to it in normal life anyway, so it's not exactly a shock, but I do love rattling around like a pill box. Not.

3. I have finished knitting my first proper garment - a jumper for baby Martini (soon to be renamed). It's not brilliant and it's full of mistakes, but I feel very proud of my efforts. For a first attempt, I reckon it's not a total embarrassment. See for yourself:

4. Mr. Martini and I have booked a get away to Bath. It's only two days but Baby Martini will be staying with his grandparents, so it will be a proper rest. Hopefully. I do remember that the only other time we went away childless (to a friend's wedding) our eagerly awaited lie-in lasted until an embarrassingly early 8am. The shame.

5. I am almost ready to kick off my freelancing career. I have a couple of meetings later this week, so stay tuned - there's a distinct possibility I could become a company owner before the week is out!

Friday Fashion Fix

2010-08-13T19:37:00.000+01:00

Now, I know it's only August, but all the doom and gloom outside is making me think of winter. This coat, from the lovely Primark, is part of the new Autumn/Winter range, and is due in shops from October. If it was available now, I think I might have worn it today! I love it. And knowing Primarni it will be a bargain. Yes, the buttons will need changing and it will only last one season, but who cares? Fabulous.

The Science Museum - Scientifically Proven to be a Winner

2010-08-12T16:44:00.000+01:00

This is a good question generally, but actually refers to one of the themes currently being investigated at the Science Museum (I tried to nick their logo, but the website wouldn't let me). In short, this place was bloody amazing. Admittedly, full of school children that I could do without, but then again, it is the holidays, so what did I expect?

As I have now officially started my maternity leave, we've decided to take Baby Martini's nursery days down to only three days a week, which leaves me two days a week to fill. I have discovered that staying at home watching Judge Judy does not count as valuable entertainment for a toddler. (Or adults, if we're really honest, but let's not go there now.)

So, this morning, armed with a picnic and the pushchair, we braved the outside world. Had I done research, I would have known that there is a whole area in the basement dedicated for children to run riot in. As I hadn't, I can't really claim responsibility for this flash on genius - nevertheless, BM was in his element. And, of course, I will later claim I had planned the whole thing.

We had hours of fun playing with the springs, the various water elements, the light and sound displays and the other activities on offer. He was almost too tired to eat his lunch afterwards! And on that note, the facilities are fantastic - buggy parks, areas to picnic in (so you don't have to spend £100 on a tiny hotdog) - you name it, they've thought of it. And - and this is the best bit - it's free. They ask for a £3 donation, but it's not enforced - so you can give as much or as little as you like.

I may be a bit behind the curve here, but I really did not realise that places like this existed. There's no stopping me now. And I've got a sneaking suspicion that BM will be forever grateful that his Jeremy Kyle watching days have become a thing of the past.

28 weeks and counting

2010-08-09T10:04:00.000+01:00

28 Weeks Pregnant

Unbelievably, I am already 28 weeks pregnant. It's funny, because the first 12 weeks (when you can't tell anyone) went by painfully slowly - but since then, it's flown past. And whilst I haven't exactly loved this pregnancy, it hasn't been that bad either. I am, however, really bad at keeping up with the various milestones of pregnancy - so I did some Google research and this is what I've found:

1. The baby is now about 15 inches long and weighs just over 2lb. Which is interesting, because I look somewhat similar to a whale. Guess all the rest of it must be fluid. Definitely not all the additional cake I've been 'craving'.
2. The baby's eyes are now open. Good-o.
3. My weight gain will start to steadily increase (it hasn't already?) and I'll be more tired, apparently. Good to know that full on exhaustion is headed my way.
4. "You may start to get headaches, backaches, more itching and heartburn. These are all common." Brilliant.

Now I remember why I don't pay too much attention to what's going on. Apparently, I should also be thinking about packing my hospital bag. I'm not falling for this old trick again. Last time, I diligently packed snacks, my mp3 player and other items to keep me entertained. What you actually need is a big sign saying 'Give me the drugs NOW' (so you don't have to speak) and lots of pillows. Yes, really, St. Thomas' isn't so big on these luxuries. And maybe an eye mask, so you can sleep once the drugs kick in. Because, I remember well, it's the last chance I'll have for some shut eye in quite a while...

Stalking for Charity

2010-08-05T14:36:00.000+01:00

Before I start, let me point out that I am most definitely in favour of charity giving. I have regular donations to charities that are particularly close to my heart (the British Heart Foundation, for example) and always sponsor friends in their various charity activities. Why anyone would choose to run the marathon is beyond me, but you've got to admire their dedication.

However, what I am not in favour of is being stalked down the high street usually by young 20-somethings, sporting a branded t-shirt and a clipboard. You'll notice that they hunt in packs, with some targeting people walking one way, and the rest targeting those going in the opposite direction. This means, of course, that if you need to come back on yourself, you're likely to be harassed twice, instead of just once.

I understand that everyone has a job to do and that this is being done in a good cause. But the simple fact is, I can't support every charity in existence and making a bee-line for me on the street is not going to embarrass me into signing up. I either already support the charity, or have decided not to. No one is convincing me mid-shop. Of course, some clipboard sporters are perfectly pleasant when I say I am not interested (I do not try to avoid eye contact and hurry past them in an attempt to avoid a conversation - although I've been told that this approach does also work). What I find more irritating is rudeness. Some recent comebacks have included:

"Everyone can spare £2 a month - even you"
"You look like you can afford to give to charity"
"You'll regret this"

Quite frankly, shouting at me is not going to induce me to sign up. I'm sure it makes the clipboard gang feel better, but, if anything, it gives me a worse impression of the charity.

There is hardly a high street that I've been to recently that hasn't featured one charity or another recruiting for new members. So, I can only assume that this strategy must be successful - otherwise it wouldn't still be going. But I won't be handing over my details anytime soon.

Friday Fashion Fix

2010-07-30T13:49:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, Mr. Martini and I had a very enjoyable day. With no particular plans or commitments, we wandered around Covent Garden (if you go early - say, for example, after dropping off your child at nursery) you can avoid the tourists. It's actually quite pleasant when you're not rushing back to work. We went up Neal Street and into Neal's Yard, where we both had a fantastic massage - no need to book, just walk straight in.

We had coffee and a leisurely browse in Foyles on Charing Cross Road - I've never been in there before and it's marvellous. The Selfridges of book shops, you might say. And we rounded it off with a fantastic lunch at Brasserie Blanc in the City. We were back home in time to have a cat nap before picking up Junior.

And the best bit? I even managed to squeeze in a bit of shopping. In my state, clothes are generally out, but I could not resist these absolutely fabulous Dr. Martens - a bargainous £42 reduced from £85. There is no doubt this me clinging to my younger days - yes, I used to wear these when I was 15. I used to paint my old ones and think I was hard. I was not, and tippex doesn't actually count as paint, but ah, the heady days of youth...

Of course, when I was younger, I failed to notice the very sensible aspects of these boots - 1. waterproof - so very good in the rain and 2. flat - so I'm not going to kill myself pretending I can still wear heels at six months pregnant (or not for any length of time, anyway). Nevertheless, they are still cool and will allow me to rock my inner child for some time to come...

There are still loads on sale in the store on Neal Street - failing that, check out the online store for your size.

It's time for a holiday

2010-07-25T15:11:00.001+01:00

I was inspired by the most recent blog post by excellent blogger Babyrambles. She was challenged to spend £9.50 on something better than a holiday (The Sun is running an offer selling holidays for £9.50. What you actually get for this price is unknown to me - I'm guessing it's not two weeks, all expenses paid at the Atlantis Dubai - but nevertheless, a holiday for less than a tenner sounds pretty good to me).

Some ideas that occurred to me:

1. A winning lottery ticket (really goes without saying but top of the list anyway)

2. A bottle of wine that I can drink with my husband - six months in, and there are still three to go before I can properly enjoy a glass or two guilt free. The state I'm in at the moment, a bottle of wine is far less effort than traveling on holiday!

3. Some new books for mini Martini. The enjoyment he gets from his books is unbelievable and his laughter makes my heart swell every time I hear it

4. Debbie Bliss wool - although you'd only get three balls for £9.00 (at the most!). Don't judge, but I'm finding knitting increasingly therapeutic - I know, I know, I'm aging in dog years

5. Dinner at the Mirch Masala in Tooting. It may not be posh, but it's the best Indian food outside of India. And cheap - what more could you want?

In short (and you won't hear me saying this often), it would appear The Sun has got it right on this occasion. There aren't many better ways to spend £9.50 - so check out the details here.

What are you afraid of?

2010-06-28T12:38:00.007+01:00

I haven’t been tagged for a meme in quite a while, but last week, Yummy Mummy No1 got me for the ‘What are you afraid of’ meme. I’m told that the rule is you share your fear and then tag five more lovelies, who then have to share their fears too.

Now, being completely honest, I’m not usually that open about my fears. I’d much rather pretend that I don’t have any fears. Naturally, there are the usual suspects – death, or more accurately, pain in death, bad illnesses (me and my family), not being able to lose the baby weight second time around – you know the sort of thing. But, I don’t really think it would be quite in the spirit of things to cite one of those.

So, instead, let me reveal (briefly – I don’t want to bore you to death) one of my irrational fears. The sea.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love going to the beach and I can certainly handle splashing around in a swimming pool when the weather is warm. But actually swimming in the sea is a non-starter. I think it probably stems from my childhood. I’m absolutely blind – my current prescription is minus 14 – and I’ve worn spectacles all my life. Since I was 11, I’ve worn contact lenses, but when I was smaller, I had glasses, and obviously, I couldn’t take those when I ventured down to the sea shore with my brother and sister. They thought it was hilarious that I couldn’t see them, so, despite my parents telling them to ‘look after me’ (embarrassing enough, since I am the eldest) they used to run away from me and then leave me to find my way back to my parents. Which I rarely succeeded in – usually my mum or dad had to come and rescue me.

In an attempt to overcome my problem, I used to memorise what my mum’s swimming costume looked like without wearing my glasses, and then try and find that when the lovely siblings ran away. This plan did not go so well when I started talking to a complete stranger, just because she had the same costume as my mum. After that, I just decided that it was much easier to stay on the sunbed, rather than go in the sea at all.

Of course, nowadays, it should be a completely different story. I have daily disposable contact lenses – so if the worst should happen, and they came out in the sea – I’d just be able to get out a new pair. But somehow I just can’t enjoy being in the sea, no matter how hard I try. I’m even worse on small boats or pedalos – I still rigidly, clinging on for dear life and just wait for the moment I can step on dry land. I know that I’m going to have to suffer through various traumas when the kids get older and want to do these sorts of activities on family holidays. And maybe this will help me finally overcome my fear. But I think it’s far more likely that my children will pick up where my siblings left off...

I've recently discovered some great new blogs, and I'd like to find out what they are afraid of (apologies if you've already had this meme - I did try to check but forgive me if I missed it):

The Moiderer
Purple Ramblings
Frog in the Field
20something Mum
Vegemitevix

Friday Fashion Fix

2010-06-25T09:47:00.005+01:00

I am loving the sales right now, despite being pregnant - I put myself on a very strict rule of not buying any new clothes until the baby is born. So, I have to stick to shoes. Now, I know that it's blisteringly hot outside, and I should probably be coveting flip flops, but And these beauties, from Hobbs, are just the job for the forward planner. And for pregnant women that can no longer balance on 5inch heels.

Reduced from £159 to £99.

By the way, my scan on Wednesday was inconclusive - so it's back to St. Thomas' later today for round two. Will update as soon as I have news.

It's not as easy as I'd thought...

2010-06-22T13:56:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow is my 20 week scan for Baby Martini 2. And I’m really looking forward to it. In fact, all things being well, it’s the milestone I’ve been waiting for since I got pregnant. But I’ve also been thinking back over the past five months (ish) and almost visibly shake my head at my total naivety going into this pregnancy.

I didn’t expect it to be easy. I thought I might be a bit tired. But, with Baby Martini settled happily at nursery and everything back to normal at work, I thought it would pretty much be a breeze. People do it all the time, right? It can’t be that hard.

Well, I can tell you that (for me at least) it bloody well has been. And it’s not exactly going to get any easier either. Obviously, I know how lucky we are – it would appear that you only have to blow on me and I’ll conceive (Mr. Martini is still lamenting the fact that we didn’t have months of ‘trying’) and, so far at least, we’ve had a healthy and straight-forward pregnancy. But, oh my God, I was not prepared for the absolute exhaustion. It’s crippling. And now I’m getting bigger, it’s getting harder to do things like carry the pushchair up the stairs. Or carry my son at all – he’s getting bigger literally by the second. Or, in fact, carry my bag to work.

And, to make matters worse, this time, I know what’s coming. There’s no doubt that I’ve taken this pregnancy a lot more seriously. Last time, I spent most the nine months pretending I wasn’t pregnant and when I finally admitted I was, I spent the remainder of the time demonstrating how it wouldn’t change me in the slightest. (Oh yes, those were the days.)

This time, not even consciously, I’ve been a lot more sensible – and I’m fairly sure it’s because I want to make sure that number two is as perfect as can be. But, I still know that: yes, it really is possible to get even bigger, the brief indigestion I’m having now will turn into a full blown 24/7 heartburn that stops me from eating, sleeping through the night is now a thing of the past, I won’t be able to go anywhere without knowing where the nearest loo is and I’m generally going to be very uncomfortable until the bundle of joy is born. Let me assure you that, in this instance, it is much better not to know what’s coming your way.

Let me be clear – I cannot wait to meet my new baby – and I love him very much already (I bet you a pound to a penny it’s a boy, by the way). I don’t regret getting pregnant in any way. But I’m ready to admit that it’s been much more difficult than I anticipated. Perhaps, when the time comes, I’ll be much more prepared for number three? Hmmm. Probably not. But, it would appear, that’s how Mother Nature works.

Just a simple get-together - or maybe not

2010-06-21T12:20:00.003+01:00

I know that I’m a bit of an organising freak. I admit it – and quite often, I’m (secretly) quite proud of it. But every so often, I reach my limit and decide I’ve had enough. The last week has been one of those times.

I have various groups of friends I’ve acquired over the years – friends from school, different work places, and most recently ‘baby friends’ (as Mr. Martini calls them). I realised that with one particular group of friends, I only saw them when I organised a get-together. So I made the decision to wait for one of them to arrange the next night out. Two and a half years later, I’m still waiting. So, not that good a group of friends then.

Going back to the baby friends, since I went back to work much earlier than the rest of the group, I decided to organise a reunion. I sent a group email and we all agreed a date. And then, the ‘suggestions’ started rolling in. “Can we go to a different place that’s more convenient for xxx?” Fair enough. “Can we change the time so it’s easier?” Okay. Irritating, but will do. “Can we invite some other people too?” I tell you what, why don’t you organise something, and then you can do it however you like. Maybe it makes me sound mean, but to be honest, now I’m just left wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier to leave it in the first place...

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Friday Fashion Fix

2010-06-17T10:50:00.015+01:00

The sales are in full force right now - and even if you're five months pregnant, there are still many bargains to be had:

A great dress from Mamas and Papas - a snip at £22

http://www.mamasandpapas.com/product-silk-shirt-dress/s0007078/type-s/

If the sun comes back, this top from Blooming Marvellous is worth snapping up - £17

http://www.bloomingmarvellous.co.uk/product.aspx?CategoryID=m-tops-shirts&ProductID=13438&language=en-GB

And if it doesn't, this jumper from ASOS will keep you warm - £22

http://www.asos.com/Mamalicious/Mamalicious-Knit-Jumper/Prod/pgeproduct.aspx?iid=882142&cid=6413&sh=0&pge=0&pgesize=20&sort=-1&clr=Shark+Blue

You can never go wrong with Isabella Oliver - ever - and this dress is the best bargain yet at £28.50 - a massive 70% off!

http://www.isabellaoliver.com/maternity-clothes/uk/100/maternity-clearance/DR066.html

Finally, nursing bras are always more practical than pretty, but this one does the job whilst looking at least half way decent - £26

http://www.mama-la-mode.com/shop/latest_arrivals/delice_maternity_bra/VI/

Breast is best, but it's not the only answer

2010-06-15T11:12:00.004+01:00

Yummy Mummy No1 has written a brilliant post (read it here) on breast feeding and I felt compelled to write one of my own. Even before I had my first child, I was increasingly irritated by the constant barrage of literature (and nagging from midwives, I might add) about breast milk being the 'only' option for your baby. And this was before I started NCT. But I'll save that for another time, or we'll be here all week.

Yes, in an ideal world, all mothers would be whipping out their tits at every available opportunity, feeding their babies whenever the need arose. But the simple fact is, it's not that simple. And making people feel bad about it isn't going to help the baby or the child. Some myths include:

1. It's completely natural.
No, it's not. Our NCT teacher actually told us that "if your baby was born in the wild, they would come out of the birthing canal, crawl up the mother's body and latch on naturally." What utter crap. First off, a new born baby can't move, and second, latching on naturally is a fairytale. Yes, some people take to it more easily than others - but many people find it hard, and they should know that in advance, so they have time to prepare. Making out it's natural just makes people that can't do it instantly feel inadequate.

2. It can be done anywhere.
Yes, after practice at home or somewhere else quiet. No one tells you that when you see women out shopping whacking their children on their boob as soon as they start crying (the child, not the mother. We have vodka for that) that they've been doing it for a while. They did not leave hospital yesterday and the baby now knows what to do. It takes practice.

3. You don't need any help.
This is my favourite. The breastapo tell you that you must breastfeed your child come what may. Years ago, women stayed in hospital for a week after childbirth and had ample support from nurses to get the knack of breastfeeding. Now, you're kicked out in a matter of hours(which, by the way, suits me - I'd much rather be at home). If you have any problems breastfeeding, you're told to go to your nearest breastfeeding cafe. Brilliant. Your body has just been through a traumatic ordeal and then you have to get on a bus, or in your car, and then sit with a group of people you don't know and let them examine you attempt to breastfeed. And let me tell you, you do not feel like travelling three days after giving birth. Money saving? Probably. But a good idea? Absolutely not.

I'm with Yummy Mummy No1. Obviously, if you can breast feed then it is best for the baby. But not breast feeding him doesn't make you a bad mother. My theory is, if you can do it, great, and if you can't, it's not the end of the world. Take the whole thing with a pinch of salt. And remember that in ten years time, the advice will probably be completely different anyway.

I should just caveat this post with the information that I live in central London. My experiences are purely based on the services in my area. If you have more support in your area - lucky you!

Come on England

2010-06-11T11:39:00.004+01:00

"Remember that you are an Englishman, and have consequently won first prize in the lottery of life." Cecil Rhodes

Generally, I am not a huge lover of football. My whole family are huge Arsenal fans - in fact, my parents have season tickets - but I've always been more of a rugby girl. And, in more recent years, I've become quite the cricket fan - mainly because The Husband has a sneaking suspicion he actually should have been a professional cricketer, and consequently watches every match that is played globally. If you can't beat them, join them. But that's another story.

But I have to admit that World Cup fever is winning me over. At work, there are two sweepstakes running (I drew Greece - so that entry was a total waste) and friends that I didn't even know watched sport are holding parties tomorrow night. I felt compelled to buy an England t-shirt (supersized, naturally) and have even bought Baby H a football shirt so he can join in the fun. Worse, I bought some bunting and flags at the same time - which I'll be putting up in the house tonight. I did, however, draw the line at those flags for the car. Who ever came up with that bright idea should be shot. There are limits, you know.

I vaguely remember the last world cup, where strangers spoke on the street and cheered with each other, for the brief period of time we thought we might actually have a chance. My prediction this year is that we'll make it to the semi-final and then gracefully bow out (or, to some others, lose) but there are others who are far more optimistic than me. Only time will tell. As for me, well, if England don't make it, there's always Greece...

It's all for charity

2010-06-09T14:04:00.004+01:00

It's taken a couple of days, but I'm now ready to share my tale of woe.

As you may already know, I'm pregnant and growing at a rate of knots. Over the past month, I have been conscientiously sorting my 'normal' clothes and packing them for storage. I completed this task just before H and I decamped from the house last Wednesday, as the house was being completely rewired. We didn't come back until Sunday evening.

D was excellent throughout the process - he went back to the house everyday to help the electrician - moving furniture, lifting floorboards and generally ensuring everything was in order. To his credit, when we got home on Sunday night, the place was immaculate. And then I noticed that all my packed clothes were gone. "Amazing," I said. "You didn't mention you'd also been to the storage unit - what a great job!". D looked completely blank. "I haven't been to the unit," he replied.

"So, where's my whole wardrobe gone? Did you move it to another room? I can't see it..."

At this point, D starts to go a funny colour. "The bag that was just there?" He gesticulates at the now vacant area. "That wasn't for the charity shop?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. So you took it to the storage unit?" I replied, still smiling, because I'm assuming its a joke.

It was not. He'd very helpfully taken the bag to the charity shop on Thursday morning. Naturally, when we went back to the charity shop on Monday morning, the manager remembered him. "Oh yes," he says cheerfully. "There was loads of great stuff in there. We made sure we had it all out for first thing Saturday morning - it's our busiest day."

To be fair, as he realised what had happened, he tried not to look so happy. From a whole wardrobe that included (but is in no way limited to) six pairs of Seven For All Mankind jeans (yes, I wore them all), several Thomas Pink shirts, several Hilditch and Key shirts, a Joseph suit, more tops, skirts and dresses from Banana Republic and Hobbs than I could ever count (I admit it - I buy them - they are good for work), various Armani, Anne Fontaine, John Smedley, Amanda Wakely, Diane Von Furstenberg, D & G and Superdry items and my favourite Vera Wang dress I managed to salvage the following:

- 1 pair of jeans
- 1 Anne Fontaine top
- 1 Hilditch and Key shirt
- 1 pair of pyjamas
- 1 t-shirt

And that is it. Literally. The charity shop must have cleaned up. Although I was very disappointed to see my Hilditch and Key shirt hanging next to one from Primark, both labelled at the same price. (£2.50 by the way. Don't they cost that new in Primark?) It was very upsetting.

Come November, when I naturally bounce right back into shape and lose all my baby weight instantly, I will have absolutely no clothes. I will be naked. Or still in maternity clothes, which is just marginally worse. Of course, plans are abound for some serious shopping once baby two is born. And I am doing my best to remain philosophical about the whole affair - after all, he didn't mean to give all my clothes away, and I probably will only miss about a third of the stuff - but there is no doubt in my mind that when I spot someone at the bus stop in my shirt, it's going to be difficult not to attack them.

If you're interested, by the way, all the clothes went to Sense - so even if I'm naked, hopefully it's made a difference somewhere.

Dream a little dream

2010-06-01T15:14:00.002+01:00

This pregnancy, my dreams are definitely very vivid. I can't remember if that was true first time round, but this time I wake up and almost think I'm still in the dream. This was especially disturbing this morning, because last night I dreamt I was in prison. I appreciate that I can sometimes be too direct when I speak to people, but in my dream, I was put in prison for being rude to someone. I won't bore you with the finer details, but I was locked up for 12 weeks - so when I woke up this morning, I thought I had to cancel some summer plans. My husband thinks I'm going mad.

The one person who should be locked up, though, is the person in the UK responsible for our Eurovision entry. WHAT ON EARTH WERE THEY THINKING? Last? I ask you. Especially after the complete rubbish I saw on Saturday night. Seriously, it's an embarrassment. Yes, I know it's all a bit of a joke but to be beaten by some drunken teenager from Germany is not acceptable. And no, this isn't an opportunity to reintroduce Andrew Lloyd Webber to the mix. That didn't exactly turn out well last time. Let's either get someone decent in, or pull out all together. This half in, half not bothering attitude is making us look bad.
By the way, when did we start doing telephone votes for Eurovision? That didn't happen in my day...

A Child Free Haven - of a fashion

2010-05-26T15:23:00.003+01:00

Well, that was the weekend we've been looking forward to since 9 February this year. For the first time, we left junior with the grandparents and headed off into the hills, child free and care free. Apart from the very slight issue that I am currently with child, thus making me somewhat less care free. But, nevertheless, leaving our son for the first time was surely going to be magical? Lie-ins until 10am, perhaps a jaunt down to the spa, a romantic dinner without worrying about getting back for the babysitter? Surely, the world was our oyster. Or so I thought.

When we received the wedding invite, stating clearly that CHILDREN WERE NOT INVITED, I actually shouted out in joy. The first thing I did was book the hotel. Then, of course, I called the parents to ensure they'd be happy to help out - of course, we would have taken him if we could... (yeah, right. Trying to control a one year old while everyone else gets drunk - I think not).

And then, bring on the plans. Or, more realistically, the just bring on the idea of something to look forward to. Imagine my disappointment, then, when I discovered the hotel did not have a spa. No matter, I rallied, there is at least a swimming pool. Naturally, being preggers, I can't use the jacuzzi, but a few laps in the pool will set me up. Wrong. The pool was the size of a postage stamp. And the jacuzzi was broken. So even the husband was put out.

We carried on, going out for dinner in the delightful Watford (I didn't even know that it was appropriate to wear knickers out and pretend they are shorts - pure genius. I must put Vogue in touch with the residents). We both discussed how much we were looking forward to lie-ing in - no need to get up and no responsibilities. Imagine my horror when I woke up at 6.30 and could not get back to sleep. But 8am, I was waiting for the breakfast restaurant to open - what hotel doesn't start serving breakfast until 8.30am? Not exactly the leisurely morning I'd anticipated.

Saturday was, of course, a beautiful, hot sunny day. I was loving it. So were all the guests drinking copious amounts of champagne 'to quench their thirst - naturally'. By the time we sat down for dinner, most people were merrily on their way. I was becoming increasingly bored with lime and soda. (Of course, I did have a couple of glasses, but no where near enough to keep up with everyone else.)

By 10.30 I was exhausted - well, I had been up since 7 and I didn't have the wine coat on that always sees me through any tired lulls. By 11pm I decided to call it a night. After all, we'd have to be up early to make sure we got to my parents at a decent hour - it's not fair to leave the little guy with them all day.

On Sunday morning, we were up and had had breakfast before the majority of the wedding party surfaced. I hear that they partying went on long into the night - my first thought is that I'd have been knackered for the whole week if I'd stayed up until 3am.

An enjoyable experience? Absolutely. But the return to my young and care free days BC (before children)? I think not. It's official. I am a parent. And actually, I quite like it.

What not to wear

2010-05-11T12:49:00.004+01:00

It may just be me, but the current offering of maternity clothes is absolutely appalling. When I was pregnant first time round, I quite enjoyed the challenge of finding decent maternity clothes - this was back in the days that I could spend all of Saturday wandering round the shops in my own world. And unfortunately, this pregnancy is at a completely different time of year, so the last wardrobe mainly doesn't work.

So, when we returned from France, I decided to drop junior in nursery and then head to Oxford Street for a mega shop. Chance would be a fine thing. First stop, TopShop Maternity. What a joke. Either the designers think that summer pregnancies are for teenage hookers, or they think it's acceptable to simply take designs for teenagers from their summer offering and then make them a bit bigger. Plus, no matter how many denim shirts you make, they'll never be suitable for work. I moved on.

H&M - not quite the working girl image. In this case, they seem to assume you must be at least 50 if you're pregnant (although, obviously, this isn't actually very likely in reality). Just because I feel awful, doesn't mean I want to look it.

Next stop - Zara. They appear to have culled their maternity range to a single rail, which is disappointing, because last time, I had quite a lot of success there. Plus, it all seemed to be old winter stock. (In hindsight, this probably would have been an investment, given that we seem to have returned to March without any notice whatsoever.)

I was looking forward to checking out the new range from Gap - but alas, everything there seemed a bit tent-like and generally not very flattering.

All in all, it was a disastrous trip. I admit that my mood probably wasn't brilliant by the time I got to Zara but when I got home there was a treat in store. I had ordered a new pair of skinny jeans from Seraphine. I was determined to get a decent pair of jeans for this pregnancy - last time, the offerings from TopShop and H&M did not cut it and went straight in the bin after a couple of wears - they both fell apart. These jeans are, quite simply, the best investment yet. They seem to be cut higher at the back, so they don't feel ridiculous when you bend down, and they actually look great - very flattering.

What I learnt from this whole experience is that sometimes, online shopping really is a better experience. Or maybe I'm just getting old.

Home is where the heat is

2010-05-10T16:23:00.002+01:00

I love going on holiday. I love the planning, I love the travelling (although this enjoyment has definitely waned since travelling with a young child) and I love the fact that I can lie on a beach all day and then feel tired at the end of it (again, not so much recently). I was really looking forward to our trip to France - a romantic farmhouse in rural Normandie - I had visions of country walks, pain au chocolat and drawn out dinners with good conversation and good glass of wine.

Wrong. Totally, utterly and disappointingly wrong. Why? Mainly because a farmhouse made of stone with no bloody central heating is absolutely freezing. I actually think it was warmer outside the house. H struggled - his lips were blue for most of the trip - and he tended to wake up at about 3am everyday because he was probably worried he was becoming an ice cube. That was my rest out of the window.

In my opinion, there is nothing worse than being cold. I can deal with hunger better, and that's saying something. Especially in my current condition. Yes, a bit of breeze is one thing. I draw the line at having to wear two pairs of socks to bed - especially in May. And when I've already cranked up the electric blanket setting to maximum. I ask you.

Arriving home was a relief. There may not be any pain au chocolat (well, actually there are, because in order to remain sane, I insisted on some shopping to escape the cold - even the shops were warmer) but there is heat and no requirement for bed socks whatsoever. And the next holiday? No thanks, you'll find me in my nice cosy house where my kids will be sleeping because it's not sub-zero temperatures!

What a difference a day makes (well, three days, but who's counting?)

2010-04-25T18:14:00.002+01:00

Friday 16 April, 3pm. St. Thomas' Hospital.
Excited, and just a little bit apprehensive, D and I go in for the 12 week scan. After seeing the heartbeat, and confirming that there is indeed a little person in there, it becomes clear that the (as it turns out, very junior) technician is concerned. More people come into the room, look at the screen, talk amongst themselves in some weird medical language and then ignore us. Wonderful. Eventually, we're told that the nasal bone is absent and we're high risk for Downs. Then we're told we need to leave the room, as they don't want to overrun on their scan schedule.
We're taken to a family room (another brilliant sign - haven't been in one of these rooms since my Nan died) and basically told our only options are to have a CVS test or wait until I'm 16 weeks and then have an amniocentesis. I ask if we can have another scan on the NHS - maybe the baby was in the wrong position, maybe they were all blind - the answer is no. So, no choice. I book into The Portland for a second opinion.

Tuesday 20 April, 10am. The Portland.
This is more like a hotel than a hospital. I notice a leaflet advertising an open weekend for the labour ward - I pick one up in hope. Plus, it will give D a good laugh. (He couldn't make it, by the way, he had a major event on at work that couldn't be rescheduled. I brought my mum for support, should the news be the worst.) We go in the scan room / hotel suite and the Professor puts the machine on my tummy. His first words: "The nasal bone is clear as day - you can see it right there (points at screen). Was it a technician that did the scan?"

I have never, never, never felt so relieved in all my life.

How much?

2010-04-12T18:13:00.006+01:00

I am officially in trouble with him indoors. When we decided to have our beloved son Christened, we agreed that it would be a low key, low cost event - there was no need to go overboard - it would just be a good day with friends and family. Hmmm. After ordering the cake this morning, which was no easy task as the girl at the end of the phone seemed to have no idea whatsoever about cake making or decorating. Or taking orders for that matter. However, after ordering the cake, I decided to have a final run through the budget. This is how it worked out:

Invitations - £60. (Done online, in order to achieve maximum savings)

Champagne - £350. And this isn't the expensive stuff. Damn.

Food - £140 - sandwiches were a no go, as they won't deliver on a Sunday. Think mini quiches, chicken bites and anything else that will last two days from collection.

Outfit for the star of the show (my son, not me) - £60

Cake - £70. Seriously. And (as noted above) I'm not convinced that we won't end up with a birthday cake for a ten year old.

Plates, napkins, balloons and all that malarkey - £45.

Soft drinks - £30.

This adds up to just over £750. Plus, it doesn't include thank you cards, any of the postage or any of the potential costs of broken glasses from the glass hire providers. And, naturally, it doesn't include the new bag or shoes that I've also bought - well, I reckon it's a bit unfair to expect hubbie to pay for that as part of the event (although it could be worth a shot).

I think it's going to work out best if I take him for a drink before breaking the news gently. Still, fingers crossed it will all be worth it. I'll make sure I post a picture of the cake!

My definition of a holiday

2010-04-01T12:39:00.006+01:00

Our office is closing early today, as part of the Easter holiday. For me, the build to Easter this year has been particularly anticipated, as both husband and I have been abstemious during Lent. We have both given up alcohol. I have also given up chocolate, cakes, biscuits and sweets. It hasn't been easy, but as Easter Sunday draws nearer, we both admit we feel seriously satisfied that we have achieved our goal. Plus, the lovely glass of red wine and bar of Dairy Milk I'm planning for Sunday are both going to taste seriously good.

Anyway, the news of early closing has really injected a feeling of good will across the office. Seriously, it's almost like Christmas. And the main question doing the rounds is: what are you up to for the holiday? The majority are heading away for the weekend, one person is hosting a party and one poor guy is working. Me? I'm doing NOTHING. That's right - no traumatic travelling (which equals hours of 'fun' stuck in a car or other vehicle that's not moving), no plans to host anyone (sorry family) and no commitments. I do have a vague plan to cook D a romantic lazy breakfast tomorrow (inspired by Miss Dahl - obviously without the breathy voice and ridiculous stories to accompany the preparation) but even that isn't decided yet. Maybe we'll take junior to the park if it's not tipping down and head to the pub on Monday for a well deserved tipple (small for me, naturally - I'm still pregnant) - but maybe we won't. We'll just play it by ear. A four day weekend, with no plans other than to relax and rest - now that's my definition of a holiday!

Happy Easter all xxx

A Family Affair

2010-03-29T10:58:00.003+01:00

Whoever would have thought that preparing for a Christening would have been such a big deal? Naturally, we had the usual family fall outs over the choice of Godparents (not ideal, but not wholly unexpected), but other than that, I assumed it would be plain sailing. Perhaps it's my 'hormones' but I'm finding it far more stressful than it should be.

First (and most important), the clothes issue has raised it's head. Buying for H isn't too tricky - we're not having a Christening gown, because he's too old, but there are wide range of decent trousers and waistcoats to choose from. The main problem for him is the sizing - he's just over 12 months, so the 9-12 month ones are a tad too small, but the 12-18 month outfits swamp him. Which makes it look like we've bought something for him to 'grow into'. As the eldest growing up, I always vowed I wouldn't do this with my kids, so it's 'rock and a hard place territory'.

For me, sizing is also a problem. As yet, there has been no weight increase or expansion of any kind. But I'm loathe to buy anything new, because I'm sure the second I do, my waist will explode. Needless to say, I don't want to wear anything I've already got, because, well, it's a good reason to buy something new. The only option is to wait until the last moment. And waiting until the last moment is not my strong point.

Second problem is the catering. Mainly the booze - I keep ordering more, because I'm worried we'll run out. And there's nothing worse than running out. But it's also the food - with so many children of different ages, it's like catering for the 5000. A few breadsticks strategically placed around the church hall are not going to cut it. On the positive side, though, we get free glass hire when we order the food, so we don't have to worry about plastic glasses for people to drink out of.

Third, the cake. What a palaver. Should it be themed? Religious? Square? Round? For goodness sake, it's just a cake. So long as it's chocolate, I don't really care about the rest. And I'm fairly confident these are exactly like wedding cakes - all very well and seems important at the time, but nobody really gives two hoots. And nobody ever remembers them. Unless they're really awful.

What I am looking forward to, though, is finally announcing to everyone that I'm pregnant. All things being well, the scan will happen on the Friday and the Christening will be on the Sunday. And the Monday (which I've strategically booked off work) will be a stress free and relaxing day. At the spa. With no family member in sight.

Competitive pregnancy

2010-03-26T12:18:00.002Z

Being pregnant for the second time is a completely different experience - or it is, at least, for me. This time, I'm much more conscious about what the end result is (let's be honest, last time around, I didn't really take it that seriously. I spent most of my time moaning that I couldn't have a second glass of wine). This time, I'm a lot more aware that I'm actually growing a life - something that I remind my husband on a daily basis (mainly from the sofa I've collapsed on) - and so the lack of wine, cheese, sushi etc isn't really such an issue. Although, it is only month two - let's see how philosophical I'm being in month eight.

Either way, I'm finding it much more fun to read about pregnancy and other people's experiences. Which is how I came across this post from Mommy Has a Headache. I love the whole idea of a competitive pregnancy - and specifically the Stickthins vs. Supersizers. To give you a flavour: "If you are the kind of pregnant woman who can start stick thin and stay stick thin throughout her pregnancy (but with a small bump), you have a good chance of competing with the Stickthins. But let’s face facts here most of us would have an easier job competing with the Supersizers."

Naturally, I'd like to think of myself as a Stickthin. I reckon that the lack of alcohol consumption alone ensures I lose weight, or at least don't put any on. Or at least that's what happened last time. Then again, I also organised my own wedding last time (yes, shotgun) - and the stress of that probably helped keep the weight down too. My main concern so far is stretch marks and saggy boobs - for which I'm employing Mama Mio's Boob Tube and Tummy Rub. But having read this, I'm also off to find the healthy eating plan from 'What to expect when you're expecting'. If I'm going to carry my bump as if it's a Prada purse, it's the least I can do.

Well done Darling

2010-03-25T11:13:00.002Z

It's been ages since I wrote, for which I apologise - it's been a busy couple of weeks. First, we've decided to sell our house. A simple enough idea in theory, but whoever knew that HIPs are a total pain in the arse and cost a bloody fortune. And really, I can't see the point. Surely this is just what solicitors did anyway? Money for old rope, it seems to me. But it's law, so we have to do it. I wasn't quite prepared for how long it was going to take though. Finally, our place has gone on the market today - just in time for the revised stamp duty level - hooray!! We're hoping to get just under £250,000, so we should be laughing - fingers crossed.

In between moving out half our stuff to the new storage unit (to ensure our home is showcased to its best possible advantage - read: look bigger) I also came down with a severe case of food poisoning. Not ideal at the best of times, but certainly not in my condition. I didn't eat for a week. People keep telling me how thin I look. Good for me, probably not so great for the baby. But all seems to be going okay - thankfully it's not long until the scan now, and then we can finally go public. No more pretending that 'I just don't feel like sushi today'.
Roll on Good Friday.

Sleep, glorious sleep

2010-03-04T11:50:00.002Z

I am exhausted. Boy, I thought I was tired last week, but that was nothing compared to this. Last night, I struggled to collect H and make it home. I then literally sat of the floor and and waited for D to come home - whilst letting H run riot around the living room. Thankfully, D rescued me pretty quickly and I went to bed. At just gone 8pm. I kid you not. Moreover, I slept. Until 8.30am. Do I feel rested and ready to embrace a new day? I do not. I feel exhausted. Roll on Bank Holiday Monday in May, when I can go public and promptly install a sofa in my office, and then sleep in the day if I so desire. I'd clearly be rubbish as a spy; all this cloak and dagger activity - that's trying to switch the tea bags from normal to decaff without anyone noticing - is a waste of time. I'm fairly confident I'm fooling no-one.

Right, it's lunchtime. Thank goodness!

Be careful what you wish for

2010-03-01T12:54:00.004Z

The worst thing about finding out you're pregnant so early on, is that it's going to make the pregnancy last forever. After some quick calculations today, I've discovered that I'm three weeks pregnant. Note that the doctor's would say I'm five weeks pregnant (which is probably why so many people are 'late'), but given that I can work out exactly when I conceived, I can definitely say that I am only three weeks down. As there are another 37 weeks to go, this was not an inspiring revelation.

More over, it's going to make the first trimester unbearable. First time round, I didn't even figure out that I was knocked up until about eight weeks in. So, by the time I'd been to the doctors and all that jazz, I only had to wait a couple of weeks before I could go public. Perfect. Today, I realised I won't be able to tell people until about the first May bank holiday - which seems like a lifetime away. But I shouldn't really be moaning - we did get lucky right away, and I won't be pregnant over Christmas, so it couldn't have worked out better really.

Given that I can't plan my outfit for a forthcoming wedding, I decided to buy a hat instead. You can't go wrong with a Philip Treacy, so this is what I've bought:

I'm very happy. I know, I know, it's black, but so long as I don't wear a black dress too, I think it should be fine. Black shoes, black bag and I'll be sorted. And I know for definite that I won't grow out of it before the big day, so it's a winner all round.

The Hills are Alive...

2010-02-26T09:35:00.002Z

Tonight will be a thing of great joy. I, along with four other complete saddos (a.k.a my best friends) are heading to Leicester Square for the Sing-a-long Sound of Music. Yes, it will be brilliant. Yes, I am dressing up as a brown paper package tied up with string. Yes, I will be singing out of tune. And no, I don't need the subtitles, as I already know the whole film off by heart.

D is slightly concerned that I am leading our unborn child astray (fortunately for H, he'll be safely tucked up in bed in Kennington) - but I view this as an education. How can you not love the film? The mighty Andrews teaching the children how to sing, and then the Captain taking on the Nazis? It's pure genius.

Wish all the poor people sitting around me the best of luck...

Well? What's the result?

2010-02-22T17:57:00.002Z

I hate waiting. I know I shouldn't be so impatient, but the simple truth is, when I want something, I'm not very good at waiting for it.

Which is how we got here in the first place. There's no way on earth I should be doing this now, but if there's a chance I can, then I bloody well will. Still waiting, I think back over the efforts over the past month. They were significant - every day for five days - but I wasn't prepared not to succeed. Which, again, highlights my impatience - it's not like its been going on for a while - in fact, we'd only just decided. But, it's a bit all or nothing with me.

I look down - still blank, still waiting. And then I think - do I really want this? Am I really ready to do it all again? Maybe I don't, and it's a blessing in disguise. And then I look again. Two lines. No mistake. I'm pregnant. Definitely worth the wait.

My Valentine

2010-02-15T17:10:00.002Z

Hubbie did well yesterday. We had a very relaxed Valentine's Day - nothing too much, because I generally think that Valentine's Day has become hugely commercial. Years ago, a card was fine. Now, presents, a meal - it's like another birthday. And while I'm all for a bit of indulgence, I'm not stupid enough not to realise they've just put the prices up in the pub because they think people won't notice - they are too in love, or too busy trying to impress someone that they could love. Nevertheless, a box full of bath bombs from LUSH is just what the doctor ordered. I love baths. So well done that man.

I cannot believe that it's Pancake Day tomorrow - this year is going quickly. Needless to say, chocolate sauce is on the shopping list for tonight - well, you can't have pancakes without chocolate, right? Plus, I figure I'm allowed, because I'm giving up chocolate for lent. That's right, 40 days and 40 nights without chocolate. Even hot chocolate. Naturally, I've had a Double Decker today and am planning a Boost for tomorrow - well, if I'm not going to have any for almost two months...

Coast-ing along

2010-02-11T16:20:00.003Z

Every once in a while, something happens that really makes you happy. It can be something big - like winning the lottery (although, I hasten to add, this has most definitely not happened to me - yet. I continue to believe that one day...) or winning an all expenses paid trip to Australia, travelling first class (again, not yet, but if I keep the belief...). But, and it's almost sad how happy this truly made me, I was over the moon last Sunday, and all because of a dress in a sale.

Having had my afternoon of culture at the British Museum (well, okay, 90 minutes but it's all good for the soul), I headed over to the Brunswick Centre to pass some time. I'd forgotten that there is a Coast there, and when I noticed the 'Sale' sign, I was in like a shot. And there, in my size, was the dress I had considered and then discounted over Christmas on account of the fact is was £150 and I didn't have anywhere to wear it. It was £35. Clearly, a sign from God. When I met up with D, he asked me why I was so happy - and when he saw the bag, he started moaning and groaning until I told him the joyous news. Admittedly, he wasn't as filled with joy as me, but he was pleased there would still be plenty of cash for a takeaway that night...

It's still online - and to be honest, the picture doesn't do it justice, but nevertheless:

Happy days.

A film based on acquiring unobtainium? Unbelievable

2010-02-05T15:12:00.002Z

Ever since I heard about Avatar, I have to admit that I wanted to see it. Not because I thought it would be a good film (good job really, but we'll get to that) - but because I was intrigued by the 3D technology. And boy, oh boy, that technology has come a long way from the blue and red cardboard glasses that used to come with Rice Krispies. Actually the glasses I had (we watched a RealD 3D version) looked pretty similar to some retro Ray Bans, so not a total disaster on the appearance front. But still uncomfortable for prolonged periods of time. And let me assure you, it's possible that you may fear you're going to die of old age before this film finishes.

You know it's bad when you look at your watch, thinking it's the end of the film, and you find out there's another hour to go. Admittedly, the lady sitting next to me probably wasn't so enamoured with my huge sigh and exclamation that there was a whole hour to go - but seriously, I thought I was going to die. Cutting edge technology? Yes. Interesting storyline? I think not.

And, whilst I admit that the 3D technology was impressive, it did hurt my eyes after a while. This could be because I'm getting old, or it could be my contact lenses - my eyes got very dry watching this three hour extravaganza - but either way, I reckon it's a gimmick and not actually something that will revolutionise the film industry in a way that colour or surround sound has.

Overall, if you're interested in the 3D technology, make sure you go and see this at the cinema. But if you want a film with a plot, I'd look elsewhere.

Winter clean

2010-02-01T11:10:00.003Z

I admit it. I have let my dental check-ups slip. I haven't been to the dentist since just before I got married (well, that's normal, right?) - which is now well over a year ago. When I answered all the questions this morning, I hung my head and quietly admitted that I had let my teeth suffer.

Metrodental is, quite simply, the best dentist I have ever been to. Nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for what I saw. They take very clear, magnified shots inside your mouth and then SHOW YOU what's on the other side of your teeth. Not the front, which you can see, but the back. It was like a toothpaste advert on steroids - plaque galore. Quite frankly, totally revolting. But very convincing. I need to buy a Philips Sonicare, some dental floss and then, when I've got a spare few thousand, one of those cameras so that I can see it myself whenever I feel the need. I've already booked in my hygienist appointment for tomorrow.

New Year, new dramas

2010-01-29T12:45:00.004Z

I cannot believe it has been a month since my last post. Time has absolutely flown by - it's almost February already and I feel like I haven't even had a chance to draw breath. After the horrendous trip back from Miami (50 hour delay - by the end of it, I felt 50 years old) work has been non-stop. Obviously, this should be a good thing - but, working for a financial firm, I've become accustomed to having some time on my hands during the day. Clearly, things are on the up - good for the economy, bad for my personal admin.

In my spare time, I'm trying to organise H's combined Christening and First Birthday party. Sound simple? It's not. Between the family politics (seriously, I thought that would all be done with during the wedding - but apparently not) and trying to work out what's safe to put in a 'loot bag' (in my day, these were called party bags - I'm so not down with the crew), I'm fearful that I might not make it to birthday number two.

Plus, we've decided it's time to start trying for baby number two. Somewhat naively, given that we just found out one day we were pregnant last time, I just assumed this would happen when I decided it was time. Wrong. The first couple of months we missed our window - D was drunk, D was away, I was drunk - you know the sort of thing - so last month I decided we need to be more committed. We were, but nature was not - this month, no baby. Hmmm. I am not patient, so this could be problematic.

And finally, I've made a dentist appointment. I now remember why I've been putting this off. Seriously, £75 for a hygienist appointment? Are you having a laugh? I am in the wrong profession. I've also decided that H should be a dentist when he grows up. That way, he'll definitely have enough money to pay for me in my old age.

Miami Mummy!

2009-12-29T17:56:00.002Z

Thank the Lord - we are back in civilisation. We flew yesterday from Raleigh Durham to Miami - there were no problems on the plane or at the airport at all. I'm beginning to think the little fella is a born traveller. However, I won't confirm this until we land safely back on UK soil.

Arriving today at the Ritz was amazing - the guys on reception were expecting us and escorted us straight to the lounge so we could wait for our room. I'm currently sitting nine floors up, looking out over the beach and drinking champagne. It's not a bad life. (Pictures to follow - I'm still struggling with the technology here that seems to be significantly lagging behind ours...)

Which brings me on to the Christmas we just had. It was a lovely family Christmas - although I'm always going to think that you need roast potatoes with Christmas dinner; mashed potatoes simply do not cut it - but it is a simple fact that I cannot cope with four days of no blackberry and no mobile phone. I wasn't even aware that there were still places in the world where a mobile wouldn't work, but let me assure you that there are. It's not fun. Yes, it all sounds very romantic - a break away where people really can't get in touch with you, and that lasts for about five minutes. Then I'm itching to know what is happening in the real world. CNN is no match for the BBC.

I'm off to have some more to drink (praise be that I'm not pregnant this Christmas) and then head out to find the shops. After four days in seclusion I have some making up to do!

Merry Christmas from North Carolina!

2009-12-24T20:20:00.002Z

Well, we made it. Junior was an absolute superstar on the flight - people sitting three rows back told us at the end of the flight they hadn't even realised there was a baby on the plane (which, surely, is the best possible compliment?) - but American Airlines didn't fare so well. I wasn't aware that there are still planes flying that don't have television screens in the backs of every seat - but after our flight yesterday, I can assure you that there are.

But, we're here and coping with the jet lag as well as can be expected. So, here's to a fantastic Christmas - I hope that you have a very enjoyable one wherever you are :o)

Christmas come early

2009-12-20T23:07:00.001Z

I am one very lucky lady! As a late birthday present, I've just been given a brand spanking new Samsung netbook - very sexy indeed. It's absolutely amazing - and will really add to my new blogging habit - and best of all, it's not even a Christmas present!! This baby is definitely coming to the US with me - it weighs less than my make up bag. Hurrah for slimline technology.

PS Did anyone else watch The Restaurant? Does anyone else feel that it was an absolute travesty that JJ and James won? Seriously, my nine month old son is a better chef than JJ... Definitely one restaurant I won't be going to...

Domestic Goddess - Christmas style

2009-12-14T17:45:00.004Z

I finished sewing the advent calendar and stocking this weekend. This is something of a triumph for me, given that a) I'm not a natural seamstress and b) I'm not a natural seamstress. The classes helped (i.e. they gave me the confidence to switch on my sewing machine) and although the finished works don't quite look as shop bought as I'd like, I am very proud of my home projects.

I can't believe how timely this foray into craftsmanship (or at least attempt at it) is. I watched smugly as Kirsty Allsopp made a Christmas Stocking on Kirsty's Homemade Christmas (my stocking was way better). So, inspired by my general brilliance on the sewing machine, I decided to move my skills into the kitchen. Delia Smith I am not, but nevertheless, these are the homemade mince pies - homemade mincemeat and pastry (not that cheating ready made stuff for me - oh no!):

And these are my homemade sausage rolls:

And so, to the obvious question: where are the photos of my stocking and advent calendar? Alas, my domesticity did not stretch to me remembering to charge the battery on my camera. I was quite distraught when I kept snapping and nothing was happening. I might be on my way to being a proper mum, but I'm not there yet. Stay tuned for more photos.

Happy Holidays? It's Christmas, actually...

2009-12-08T13:34:00.004Z

I love Christmas. I love the cold weather (although I can take or leave the rain), the lights, the hustle and bustle in the shops and the general feeling that lingers in the air. What I cannot stand is the Americanisation (is that a word?) of Christmas in this country.

I fully appreciate and understand that the U.S.A. is secular and that there are various 'holidays' that are encompassed in the generic 'Happy Holidays' slogan that the US adopts. But, the U.K. is a Christian country and we celebrate Christmas.

I work at an American firm, and every year we have the same argument. They refuse to do separate Christmas cards for our European clients - instead we have one global Holiday card. The argument is that a Christmas card isn't fully inclusive and is therefore offensive. Personally, I'm offended that we don't send Christmas cards. Every year, I lose the argument. Fair enough, it's their company, but I think I have a point.

Perhaps I am more sensitive now working at a US firm, but I am increasingly irritated by firms like Coca Cola using a global message for a religious holiday. Yes, it is one of the most recognised symbols in the world - so they are obviously doing something right - but just using a 'one size fits all' strategy for your marketing and branding is lazy in my opinion. Maybe it works because Coke is a simple product that doesn't change no matter which market they are in. If McDonald's operated the same strategy, they'd be out of business. Can you imagine the conversation:

McDonald's person (MP): "It's called a quarter pounder. It's very popular in the US."
French person (FP): "What's a quarter pounder? Is that what it's made of?"
MP: "No - that's the weight of the meat."
FP: "We use metric weight here - the expression quarter pounder will be meaningless."
MP: "But that's what we use in the US. Surely if we just carry on, we can bring everyone round to our way of thinking..."

I think not. I'm not tempted by the McDonald's Festive Pie but I bet it sells well! Now, if I can just convince the management in the US that if it works for the golden arches, it might well work for us... Maybe next year we'll get our Christmas card...

Apologies - it's been quite a while...

2009-12-07T14:46:00.002Z

Good Lord, I didn't realise it had been so long since my last post. Time has absolutely flown recently - between the illnesses (me and junior - god damn those nurseries), the family disaster, Christmas shopping (I'm done. Praise be) and attempting to see my family before we head state-side, it's just too much. There simply are not enough hours in the day.

The good news is that the advent calendar (yes, I know we're a week in - but quite frankly, he's eight months old and won't know the difference) and his stocking are almost done. The bad news is that I have another three sacks and another stocking still to start. I may have to leave these until next year - and start in about July. I absolutely love sewing and the general whole idea of 'make do and mend' but it's bloody time consuming. (As an aside, I've just found Topshop's Inside-Out blog - definitely worth a read if you've got time.)

It's our office Christmas party (sorry, 'drinks' - the credit crunch has well and truly bitten) on Thursday. I have mixed feelings about this. After the last office social (where I got very drunk to celebrate the fact I was out sans enfant), I need to make sure I maintain some level of dignity this time. But it is Christmas, so I fear the dancing shoes will be making an appearance whether I want them to or not... Either way, it's the attire that is always difficult for me. Tinsel in the hair is a definite no. So are flashing badges (or flashing earrings - in fact anything flashing should be avoided full stop), or any Christmassy headgear. You have to make an effort, but you don't want it to look too much like hard work. Will keep you posted on the final decision...

I am not alone

2009-11-23T12:02:00.003Z

It's been a tough weekend. First of all, D's grandmother passed away on Saturday, which in itself, is awful. But I've also been thrown, feet first, into the world of single parenting. And it's bloody not easy. Naturally, there was no option, and I don't think for a single second that D shouldn't have flown out to the U.S. to be with his family. But there's no doubt that caring for an eight month old baby 24 hours a day on your own is no walk in the park.

Coming to work this morning was almost a relief. I seriously don't know how the carers at nursery do it all day, everyday. They need to be saluted. Anyway, when I came in this morning, I read this post and it made me smile. That could be my life Alyson's talking about. I'd love to roam around Kennington Park, swaddled in cashmere and my Uggs and kick the leaves around whilst entertaining my son. And then effortlessly pull on my Vivianne Westwood suit (which I don't have, this is in my dream, you understand) on Monday morning and swan out of the door looking together and collected. In reality, trying to do everything usually ends up with me doing about 90% and spending the other 10% permanently trying to catch up.

In exciting news though, I made H's first Christmas sack at the weekend. It was a practice one - but it's come out well, so I'm going to use anyway. It's not like he won't have enough presents to fill several sacks! This week, in the evenings, I'm going to attempt the advent calendar and a couple of stockings. I'm loving Christmas already. If you love it too, you should visit Lite FM - it's a New York radio station that plays only Christmas music between now (Thanksgiving for them) and Christmas. I love it - it drives D crazy, but he's not here, so he'll never know! Check it out if you love Christmas as much as I do... Lite FM

It's been a long time coming...

2009-11-20T10:14:00.002Z

Quite a bit has happened since the Halloween party. We've had our first family holiday abroad since H was born (and as an aside; child + long airport wait + plane journey = definitely not a holiday), H has started crawling and standing with a vengeance and we've also had some very bad news that a family member has fallen critically ill. We landed in the UK from Spain and D was literally back at terminal three within twelve hours - straight on a plane to Miami to see his Grandmother before the inevitable happens. All in all, less than ideal. It puts everything else into perspective when something like this occurs.

I'd like to write more, but at this point I'm at a bit of a loss. Thank goodness it's Friday.

So good, it's scary

2009-11-02T13:24:00.003Z

On Saturday, straight after my sewing class (that's a whole other post - watch this space), I headed home to prepare for the Halloween party we were having. The first job was to carve the pumpkin. (See above.) Now, it may not be brilliant (by the way, it's bats in case you were wondering) but it's definitely a good first attempt. However, it did take the best part of 90 minutes to complete. I knew I should have started on Friday night, but I was tired and thought I'd be able to do everything in the three hours I had on Saturday afternoon before people started arriving. On the positive side, the pumpkin was carved. On the slightly more negative side, I wasn't ready, the mulled wine wasn't ready and the cupcakes weren't iced.

Luckily, D managed to divert attention by setting off a ridiculous number of fireworks (all men seem to love this activity. Personally, I think the potential danger of blowing your own face off is not that enjoyable, but who am I to question?). I never did get round to putting on any make-up, but then we were all sitting in the dark, so fingers crossed no one noticed. Either that, or they'll think I looked amazing (because I put almost as much brandy as wine into the mulled wine. Genius).

Overall, it was fantastic. Loads of kids came and 'trick or treated' and they loved all our decorations - there was a really good atmosphere. Also, it's a great precursor for Christmas - one lot of decorations to come down, soon to be replaced with others - what more could you want?

Shoe special

2009-10-29T11:01:00.004Z

Regular readers already know that I love shoes. It is possible for me to spend £500 on a pair of shoes and actually think it's good value for money - although let me reassure you that these shopping outings occur rarely. Especially now, when I have so many things to buy for Junior. Like high chairs. And Gro bags. And other stuff that is boring to buy but irritatingly expensive. But I digress. My point was that I love shoes.

Years ago, I decided that the days of buying cheap shoes was over. To clarify, by 'cheap' I mean shoes from the likes of Faith, Dolcis and New Look. The end finally came when I got slightly carried away with the idea that I could walk (and by this I mean, walk to the tube station, travel on the tube and then walk to my destination at the other end) in 5 inch heels. I could not. In an attempt to save my poor feet I popped in to the nearest shop, which happened to be Dorothy Perkins. I bought a pair of ballet flats for £30. A bargain - or so I thought. They cut my feet up so badly I had to resort to putting my 5 inchers back on - which I think says quite a lot about these supposedly comfortable flats. The shoes were so covered in blood I couldn't take them back and rant. So, I threw them in the bin and swore that I would never again buy cheap shoes. And I've stuck to that ever since.

However. This week I have again stepped over to the dark side. The point is, I cannot resist a bargain. These shoes were simply too good to miss:
It's hard to believe, but these shoes were just £22. That's right, £22. Our Friday treat takeaway costs more than that. So, I decided to chance it. They are available online from Peacocks - but I didn't trust the picture online - I wanted to see them in real life. I've never heard of this shop Peacocks, but, happy day, I found out that there is one very close to my house. In the shopping centre at Elephant & Castle. Which explains why I didn't know it existed - because I have never been inside this shopping centre. And with good reason. Westfield it is not. However, I hotfooted it through the centre, found the shop and tried on the shoes. They were definitely worth a go. So, today is their first outing. So far, so good - but then I've only been sitting at my desk, so they should pass that test. Lunch will be more interesting.

Whether these shoes last the distance remains to be seen, but one thing's for sure - these shoes are a definite bargain!

Happy Halloween

2009-10-26T12:10:00.006Z

This year, I'm getting ridiculously excited about Halloween. Never before have I marked the 'holiday' (it's not really a holiday) in any way at all. Of course, when I was about ten, I did go out trick or treating with my brother and sister, but that's as far as it's ever gone. I can only attribute this excitement to having a child - there seems no other logical explanation for it.

We're even having a party on Saturday (although, admittedly, H won't be enjoying that. He'll be in bed). It will be a BBQ - not very happy about the forecast of rain, but we're English, so we won't let that stop us - and the pumpkins have already arrived. I've got two templates to attempt - a witch and some bats. Photos of these will follow, providing I manage to complete the lantern without ruining the whole thing. I'm going to make Halloween cupcakes (any excuse) and try and find some spooky sound effects to play.

Overall, I think it's going to be lots of fun. I haven't gone as far as decorations but who knows? If this is a success, maybe I'll get some next year...

Flu-tastic - of the swine varity

2009-10-21T11:10:00.002+01:00

It's been quite a while since my last post, and you'd be forgiven for thinking that I'd come to an unfortunate end on my bike, given my most recent updates. However, this is not the case. In fact, I've been struck down by the dreaded swine flu, which I've discovered is not pleasant at all. It's been ages since I've had any type of flu - we get the flu jab at work every year (it's a company benefit apparently - I bet I'm paying tax on that somewhere along the line) but this is a good reminder why I do it.

Now, I'm not usually one for going to the doctor - I generally feel I can take care of myself - but yesterday the final straw was reached when I couldn't actually get out of bed to go to the loo. Enough, I thought. I'm getting a doctor to come to me. Admittedly, I haven't done this in a long time - in fact, I've done it once, when I was 15 (so, technically, it was my mother who called out the doctor) because my appendix was in the process of bursting, so I figure that I'm due a call out - right? Wrong. I call my doctor's surgery, who inform me the doctor doesn't do home visits. If I'm concerned, I should call NHS Direct or go to A&E. Brilliant. What sound advice. I'd much rather head to St. Thomas' and wait for 19 hours to see a nurse - if I'm not dead before I go in, I definitely will be when I come out.

I was so desperate to get whatever drugs I needed to make this suffering go away, I practically crawled to my doctors - luckily it's not too far from my house. It was then that I noticed the opening hours for the surgery. I always knew they were pretty limited but 9-11am and 4-5.15pm? ARE YOU HAVING A LAUGH? What on earth are the doctors doing during the other five hours of the day if they're not making house calls? I remember reading somewhere that GPs have an average salary of £70,000. If I could get a job paying me £70k for doing just over three hours a day (except on Wednesdays, when they are closed in the afternoons, so it's only two hours that day) then I'd be a happy lady.

Don't get me wrong, I know people train for a long time to become doctors and I'm sure not all their patients are pleasant etc etc. It's a hard life. But how on earth can you justify only being open for 3 hours 15 minutes each day? Surely you need to be open longer than that to give people the opportunity to see you? Plus, I'm not sure I agree with the advice - 'Go to A&E'. With A&E departments being closed down all over the place, surely the ones that are left are already bursting at the seams with actual emergencies?

The surgery wants to be grateful I'm so knocked out with swine flu. If they thought I was rude on the phone yesterday, they want to see me in action when I'm actually feeling well... but then again, I suppose that's how they get away with it in the first place...

Road Rage

2009-10-14T10:30:00.004+01:00

Finally, after what seems like months of waiting (it's only been weeks, but still), I got the call that my bike was ready. Well, actually, I called them but let's not get distracted by rants about the incompetent staff at Evans Cycles. If you'd like to hear more about that, then go here.

Like a child on Christmas morning, I hot footed it down to Spitalfields and collected my bike and all the paraphernalia I'd ordered to go with it - boring (but essential) things like lights and a lock, and the more interested stuff - like the wicker basket to go on the front so I can pretend it's a Pashley. The child seat for H (which cost almost as much as the bike) was also attached. It looks fantastic (see above picture for proof). But the question was: could I ride it?

Unfortunately, the answer is: no. There are various reasons for this:

1. Apparently, you have to be quite fit to actually ride a bike for more than two minutes. As I live more than two minutes away from my office, this is going to be a problem.

2. There is other traffic to contend with on the road. Not just the obvious things that might kill you - like bendy buses and lorries - but cars and other cyclists. Hell, even pedestrians are causing a problem.

3. Allegedly, London is full of cycle routes, dedicated only to the needs of cyclists. However, the location of such routes is a secret and therefore if you are not 'in the know' then you have to brave the roads (see 2 for reasons why this is bad).

One of my colleagues has told me that all London boroughs offer free cycle lessons for people that either live or work in London. My lesson is booked for this weekend. If I make it to the end of the week alive, I'm sure that it will be very beneficial. In the meantime, I'll persevere - after all, you can't just give up. That would be like admitting defeat!

On my bike...finally

2009-10-12T12:42:00.004+01:00

It's been a manic week - hence the lack of posting. Both D and I have been exceptionally busy at work and this, combined with an entirely necessary week-long celebration of my birthday has meant a few things have slipped.

One of these 'things' was the arrival of my now long awaited bike. It was supposed to arrive three weeks ago, but the staff at Evans Cycles are totally and utterly incompetent. Usually, I would overcome such issues by taking control of the situation, but as other things took priority (like going to the theatre to see Les Miserables - which was excellent and a fantastic present), the result is that I'm still waiting for my bike.

Finally, finally, today I get a call informing me that the two items I ordered (a basket - well, it may not be a Pashley, but it is damn well going to look like one) and H's child helmet have arrived in stock. 'Brilliant,' I told the caller. 'And are you planning to put the basket on the bike as I requested?'. 'Errr, did you ask for that?' was the response. No, I felt like saying. No - I'd much rather bring everything home in pieces and attempt to put it together myself. Because attempt is the right word. Success wouldn't be the outcome. 'Yes I did,' I responded. So, after explaining for the 59th time that I want them to put everything on the bike, I told them I will be collecting it tomorrow.

The problem with this our Ride to Work scheme is that you're completely tied to this retailer - there is no choice and therefore no incentive for them to actually be any good. All this aside, however, I'm really excited to pick up my bike tomorrow. And I will get it tomorrow. If they haven't built it, I'll do it myself in the shop. That will scare them into action.

Christmas has come early

2009-10-06T10:22:00.006+01:00

It's official: Christmas is well and truly here. This morning, I received my Christmas Gift Guide from Mothercare (I know, live the dream). I didn't open it. I do love Christmas, and so I thought I would save this treat for tonight.

Then, on my way into work, I popped into M&S to pick up some lunch. This organisation is based purely on need - the only thing close to my office is Pret a Manger, and the amount of mayonnaise they feature in all their sandwiches makes me gag. But I digress. So, as I wander in, I am greeted by a mix of Halloween goodies and yes, you've guessed it, a range of advent calendars and Christmas chocolates.

The final indication was waiting for me in my inbox when I logged in. John Lewis has sent me an email announcing that their Christmas shop is now open online (I assume they are also selling Christmas paraphernalia in their shops, but I haven't been to one in the past couple of days - so I couldn't swear to it). It's 6 October. Why not just be done with it, and make advent calendars start from 1 October? Then again, I suppose that would encourage the shops to start selling them July...

Christmas - only 79 days to go. Having said that, if you want your Christmas cards to arrive in time, given the Royal Mail's recent performance, you might need to send them out this week!

An evening's work

2009-09-30T10:34:00.002+01:00

5.10pm - leave work. I'm late - I should really leave at 5. Rush to the bus stop. Needless to say, no buses are remotely in sight.

5.20pm - a bus finally arrives. People are packed in like sardines, but this doesn't stop me pushing my way on. I have a child to pick up, you know. There is general tutting from those around me. I look defiant and pretend to look at my BlackBerry.

5.30pm - I think I could walk faster than this bus.

5.40pm - joy of joy, I arrive at my stop and then attempt the half walk, half run look that I have never managed to master.

5.45pm - arrive at the nursery out of breath and totally harassed. The gatekeeper gives me a disapproving look. I collect the pushchair and then literally run to H's classroom.

5.50pm - I am officially a 'Bad Mother'. The teacher (is that what they are? Well, they make me feel like a naughty 12 year old again, so I'm sticking with that title) looks at the clock and points out that I am 5 minutes late. I apologise, grab my son and try to exit with some dignity still in tact. I'm not sure that I managed it. Seriously, this is much harder than my day job.

One would like to pass on thanks...

2009-09-29T09:48:00.004+01:00

A big shout out to Hot Cross Mum who has awarded me the 'Queen of Alll Things Awe-Summm!!!' award - it's an honour!

As is traditional, I would like to pass on this award to some other blogs that I have recently discovered and enjoy:

Dulwich Divorcee
Some Mothers Do Ave Em
Nappy Valley Girl

Apologies if you've already received this award - but if you have, then you're obviously worthy twice over!

Sew exciting

2009-09-28T16:21:00.002+01:00

I started my sewing course at the London College of Fashion on Saturday, and it was fantastic! When it comes to anything related to tailoring, I am worse than useless. But finally, I have become tired of paying over the odds for someone else to take up my trousers (I'm not short - or tall - and somehow trousers are just never the right length). Plus, Project Runway convinced me that it can't be that hard - some of the people on there are complete morons and they manage to make clothes (well, most of the time anyway).

Being slightly negative, everyone else in the class is about 12. And I was slightly taken aback at the lack of organisation - when the teacher came into the room and got the name of the class totally wrong I did think that maybe I'd made a mistake. However, when we got going, it was fabulous. It helps that all the machines are professional standard, but in just one class I made a bag. Really. Okay, not a full blown Anya Hindmarch number, but a simple tote bag that actually holds items without falling apart. It's brilliant. Not the bag, you understand - but the feeling that I've made something from scratch. Who knows, maybe I am the next Christian Siriano...

It's birth, baby, but not as you know it

2009-09-24T11:39:00.003+01:00

Yesterday, I took H for his health visitor check up and I was very pleased to discover he weighs 18lb 13oz - obviously, those four meals a day (plus all his milk) are serving him well. Or so I thought.

This morning, I read this and can't help feeling impressed. Seriously, one of my friends gave birth to an 11lb baby, and I thought that was hard going. This Indonesian woman makes my friend look like she wasn't even trying. "The baby, who is still unnamed and is 24.4 inches (62 centimetres) long, was born by Caesarean section on Monday at a public hospital in North Sumatra province." Damn bloody right! Can you imagine even attempting a natural birth? I think not. But all birth questions aside, what I really want to know is: how on earth did this lady carry around such a ginormous baby for nine months? She must be exhausted. Suddenly, my 7lb 8oz newborn looks like a walk in the park.

Farewell Summer...

2009-09-22T11:01:00.011+01:00

It's refreshing to see so many positive posts regarding the onset of Autumn; Four Down, Mum to Go, Hot Cross Mum and A Life Reclaimed are all welcoming the start of the new season (and are all great posts too). All too often, people seem glum about the passing of summer - but not me - I love everything about the days getting shorter, the wind getting more blustery and the leaves starting to fall off the trees. Don't get me wrong - it's been a brilliant summer. How can you complain about winning The Ashes (although the less said about our ODI record, the better)? And the weather has been pretty good compared to previous years. And, obviously, it's been my first summer as a mother, which has been fantastic.

But this time of year always strikes a feeling of new beginnings in me - probably still from my school days and the beginning of a new school year. This time last year, I was four months pregnant and unable to participate fully (by that, I mean drink alcohol) in various celebrations - my 30th birthday, my hen do and my wedding. That's right, a shot-gun wedding. Which, apparently, causes a lot more of a stir than having a child out of wedlock. But that's another story.

So, this year, I'm looking forward to a decent birthday shindig (the babysitter is already booked) and some fun and games around Halloween. And I'm going to make sure I get some outdoor ice skating booked in too - I'm absolutely rubbish at ice skating, which is why I couldn't risk it last year - but it's become part of my Christmas tradition and I really missed it.

Best of all, it's 100 days until the end of the year. Which means, yes, it's only 93 days until Christmas. Personally, I love Christmas and so this is excellent news for me - but I appreciate that not everyone has the same attitude, so I'll keep a lid on it (for now).

PS I should note that I received my first Christmas mail shot this morning - a 'Gifts Delivered' brochure from M&S. Whilst I appreciate this effort for early business, even I think the Autumn Equinox is overly-enthusiastic, to say the least. Turn around twice and I'll be getting Easter Egg brochures next.

Thank God it's Friday

2009-09-18T14:20:00.002+01:00

It's been a long week. In fact, it's been the longest week ever. Partly, this is because I cavorted around New York last weekend and then went straight into work on Monday but mainly, it's because it's my first full week back since having H.

This isn't a shock to the system - I was back in the office eight weeks after giving birth - but doing five days straight is much harder than I thought it would be. Not least because I miss the little guy - the morning routine of attempting to leave the house without killing either myself of anyone else does not count as quality time. But I'm amazed how tired I am. We have absolutely nothing planned for the weekend, which is good, because I'm going to be sleeping as much as humanly possible with a six month old baby.

However, this does worry me slightly for the forthcoming weeks. I signed up to do a short sewing course at the London College of Fashion months ago (I think it was just after H was born, and I was still full of the joys of spring), inspired by a combination of Project Runway and looming maternity pay. "I've got a sewing machine," I thought "how hard can it be?".

Having signed up, and paid the (very expensive) fee, I promptly forgot about the whole thing. Until this week, when I got a reminder that it starts next week and that I need to prepare for the first lesson by sharpening some pencils and finding an exercise book (okay - that's not completely accurate, but the email definitely had the 'school days / teacher' ring to it). The course lessons are every Saturday from next week until the end of November and last all morning. What on earth was I thinking? Maybe that combining childcare and a full time job wasn't enough - I needed another challenge?

On the other hand, it will give me some precious 'me' time - and maybe I'll be the next Vivianne Westwood. Admittedly, unlikely, but always worth a shot if the lottery doesn't come through. And, I'll be able to ride my new bike to the lessons - it's due to arrive a week today! Hurrah.

Sun-shade

2009-09-17T11:25:00.003+01:00

There is nothing better than arriving at work to find a parcel on your desk that you weren't expecting. I'd actually forgotten that I'd ordered some new sunglasses, because it was so long ago. I'd been after some Tom Ford sunglasses for a while - ever since my brand new Lulu Guinness ones fell apart as I took them out of the box - but I couldn't quite justify spending the £300 (especially as I was planning on shopping for England when I got to New York). When I saw them on sale on Brand Alley it was too good an opportunity to miss, but when you buy items from that site, you have to wait for the sale to finish. They were worth the wait:

It might seem strange to be buying sunglasses at this time of year, but they can hide a whole multitude of sins at any time - plus, they go with anything. It's perfect. And I love them.

New York, New York

2009-09-14T15:49:00.000+01:00

I love New York. I like the convenience, I like the choice and I like the people. My sister doesn't live in Manhattan (I have no idea why, but she prefers it out in the 'burbs) so we decided to treat ourselves and stay at The Gansevoort for the weekend. It was fabulous. Well, the location was. The hotel itself was good, but there was no full length mirror, no tea or coffee making facilities and practically no lights. It might be atmospheric, but these ridiculous low level lights do not help me pick out good clothes in the morning.

As I promised, following my recent 'You Are A Good Read' award (thanks again to Not Supermum!), a list of my highlights:

Travelling Club (an upgrade, naturally. Much as I'd love to be in a position to pay £5000 for a business class fare, I'm not).
The Great Jones Spa - what an experience! Lil' sis and I even braved the plunge pool - something I never do - and it was fantastic. The treatments rock too.
Buddakan. Great atmosphere, fab food and the manager was Australian, so I could give him plenty of advice on how to win The Ashes. He loved me.
The shops on Bleecker Street. There are shops all over downtown Manhattan that sell bling earrings, necklaces and hair clips. While some look distinctly like they've come out of a Christmas cracker, some of the items are great. The shops along Bleecker had the best offerings - I bought a wicked brooch, two pairs of earrings and two head scarves. For less than $40. Result.
New York Fashion Week. Late night opening, free champagne. What's not to like?
Pastis. Since we were staying opposite, it would have been rude not to.
Chelsea Market. We stumbled on this quite by chance - what a find. Great food shops and even a wine store. Fabulous.
The cinnamon buns at Amy's Bread. Probably not the best for my waist line but absolutely delicious. It's a good thing they are so far away - I'd be the size of a house if this bakery was on the Strand.
I also had my hair cut at Hair Rules. The salon has only opened recently, so the whole experience is a bit hit and miss, but the stylist, Dickey, is an absolute genius.
Coming home. I was only away for three days, but I almost cried when I saw little H and his father waiting for me at the airport. New York was great, but there really is no better place than home with your family.

My first blog award!

2009-09-10T10:10:00.001+01:00

When I woke up this morning, I was excited - I fly to New York this afternoon, for a girl's weekend with my sister. I thought I'd log on quickly to check my emails, and I found out that I've been given an award! How cool is that?? A great blogger, Not Supermum, had received the award from Hot Cross Mum and she wanted to pass on the accolade. I've got to say, I'm absolutely delighted that someone thinks I'm a good read - this is obviously the benefit of the written word. When I start ranting verbally, I seem to have an astounding capability to clear a room in five minutes flat. And that's with my husband, who's supposed to at least feign interest.

I love blogging - both reading other people's and writing my own - and I'm glad that others feel the same way. I need to do two things - list a top ten and nominate some other blogs for the award. The top ten will follow - I'm going to list my top ten highlights from a very short trip to NY - but these are some blogs that I have recently discovered that I nominate as a good read:

Right, I'm off to pack and then head to T5. Fingers crossed for an upgrade to Club...

Fashion Forward

2009-09-07T14:21:00.000+01:00

A fantastic article in yesterday's Sunday Times by India Knight. We've all thought it at some point: “I wonder if you ever get to an age when you’re just bored with fashion. Since fashion is basically dressing up and pretending - it is to be hoped that eventually you get to the point when you think “ah, sod it” and potter about in comfy clothes that you personally consider non-hideous instead.”

Don't get me wrong - I love my heels (the higher the better) but for a full on shopping trip, it has to be flats. Simple as that. Converse are my preferred choice, although there is something very liberating about flip flops. I'll be at Terminal 5 (Heathrow) on Thursday and this is another place where high heels should be avoided at all costs. I haven't checked the weather, but my usual choice in this situation is Ugg boots. Like slippers but considered appropriate for wear in public, these are my ideal travelling companion. Uggs, and a big cashmere jumper, because I always freeze on the plane.

I've travelled from T5 a couple of times, but on both occasions I've been late, and not been able to shop properly. I'm looking forward to getting there with plenty of time to spare, to make sure I can do proper research. I've heard the shopping is brilliant, but I'd like to find out for myself...

Not so Specialized...

2009-09-02T17:43:00.000+01:00

I was really looking forward to swanning around on my Pashley bike - I had visions of drifting along with French bread in my front basket and generally looking very sophisticated. These hopes were dashed when I returned to Evans Cycles. Apparently, the 'helpful' assistant on the phone was not so helpful - in fact, he was misinformed. No child seat can be fitted to a Pashley bike (something to do with the position of the frame. I stopped paying attention at that point).

So, no Princess Sovereign bike for me. Instead, it looks like I'm going for a Specialized:

I'll have to lower the saddle so I'm reaching up for the handle bars and sitting upright, rather than leaning forward. Also, I'm going to put a wicker basket on the front (I will have that French bread) and add some mudguards to customise it up a bit. I am gutted - but naturally, H comes before the bike - just :o)

What not to wear

2009-08-31T09:51:00.002+01:00

Without a doubt, having children in tow reduces the amount of 'dressing time' for any woman. Whilst some people care about this far more than others, here's a list of things that should be avoided at all costs:

1. Never, ever, revert to maternity clothes. Ever. Yes, they are comfortable but they will never be flattering for someone that isn't pregnant.
2. Your partners' clothes. Especially rugby / football shirts and jumpers.
3. Leopard print. It may be on trend, but unless you're 15, don't do it.
4. Tracksuits. Juicy has got a lot to answer for.
5. Ecco shoes. They make you look 60 regardless of your actual age.
6. Anything that needs hand washing or special care. You won't do it and it will be dirty within five minutes of putting it on.
7. Clothes that are too tight. They just look bad.
8. Too many bags - you'll just end up looking like a bag lady. Invest in two good quality bags - one for you and one for the children - and make sure both are big enough to hold what you need. Clutch bags are unlikely to work. Then be ruthless - if it doesn't fit in the right bag, it doesn't go.
9. Odd socks. Yes, it might have been dark when you were getting dressed, but a pair of mismatched socks will make you look dappy no matter how many excuses you make. If in doubt, find the socks the night before so there can be no mistakes.
10. Dirty clothes. It might sound obvious, but there's nothing worse than dirty clothes - all composure immediately goes out of the window. If necessary, take spares with you - but certainly never accept it as inevitable. It is not.

On your bike

2009-08-30T13:31:00.003+01:00

I've always said that I would never ride a bike to work. It's true that the idea of travelling by bike has always appealed, in the same way that always eating healthily, exercising properly and only having two glasses of wine sound easy enough to achieve - but somehow it never works out that way. Riding a bike in central London seems like an accident waiting to happen - literally. No matter how competent I am (and actually, I'm not competent at all - but more of that later) the fact is there's no accounting for other drivers on the road - black cabs and buses being particularly dangerous.

My vision of people riding bikes to work are sporty types, in full lycra get-up, pedalling nineteen to the dozen. I hadn't ridden a bike since I was a child until a couple of years ago, and then I tried one of these ridiculously energetic bikes that you clip your feet into - not my finest hour. I got a bit cocky and ended up falling off the bike at the side of the A3. I concluded that I was too old for a bike and would never do it again.

However, I recently rethought this decision - for a couple of reasons. First, I hate the tube and although I can get the bus to work now, we're moving at the end of the year, and so I'll be forced back on to the Northern line - even I can't handle three bus changes in a single commute. Second, a friend came to dinner wearing a dress and looking 100% normal until I noticed the cycling helmet. I asked why she was carrying that, and she replied that she always rides her bike to work - much cheaper and quicker. I can certainly believe that. So, on my subsequent bus journeys to work, I started taking a bit more notice of all the cyclists on the route. True, there are many of the hyper-keen, lycra-clad nutters, that race with the lorries as if they are on a level playing field. But there are also many commuters in 'normal' clothes travelling at a much more leisurely pace. Moreover, when I started 'racing' these bikers (me on the bus, them on their bikes) I discovered that they still won most of the time. Hmm.

Then I found out about the 'bike to work' tax scheme - where essentially, you pay for the bike out of your gross income - saving 40% of the price of the bike. Perfect! So, I began shopping around (really, any excuse...). After significant research, I've decided that I'm going to order a Pashley Princess Sovereign:

It's got a brilliant wicker basket on the front, and I'll quite happily be able to wear skirts while riding it - no lycra in sight. Which is a result not just for me, but for anyone that will see me on the bike. Tomorrow, I'm heading to Evans at London Bridge to get fitted...

Bank Holiday Weekend

2009-08-28T08:21:00.003+01:00

Thank goodness for Bank Holiday weekends. I definitely think that permanent four day weeks should be investigated more thoroughly. For the first time in a long time, we have absolutely no plans for the whole weekend - and personally, I think there is nothing better than three days in front of you with nothing to do. We might, if we feel really adventurous, venture to Toys R Us on the Old Kent Road - H is definitely in need of some new toys, and I've discovered that when you're shopping for your child, that money doesn't count. I'm thinking a walker could be a good investment. But that's it. Nothing else. No seeing family, no day trips that we have to get up at the crack of dawn for. A Sunday lunch at the pub might be in order, but only if we decide we want to. As a planner to the last minute, this is a wholly liberating experience - and I can't wait!

The Uniform Project

2009-08-19T16:40:00.003+01:00

I was intrigued when I read about The Uniform Project this week. Sheena Matheiken, who works at an ad agency in New York, had pledged to wear the same little black dress (designed by Eliza Starbuck) every day for a year to raise money for charity. Well, not the same dress everyday - she has seven identical dresses that she'll rotate. At first, it sounds totally impossible, but actually, the dress is very versatile and lends itself well to accessories. Every day, Sheena takes a picture of her outfit and posts it online. She's three months into the project, and personally, by now, I'd be totally out of ideas. Clearly, however, she is far more imaginative than me.

This does remind me, though, of my maternity wardrobe. Whilst I could not have managed with just one dress, I didn't actually have that much more. I made it through my 30th birthday, two weddings and the whole Christmas season with just one dress and a couple of different scarves. Yes, I was sick of the dress by the end of it, but rather than purchase multiple maternity dresses I decided that I'd rather save the money for a post-pregnancy splurge. But, now I'm back in my 'normal' clothes, I've realised just how much excess there is in there. When I packed away all my clothes when I finally couldn't squeeze myself into them any longer, I was proud of my wardrobe 'cull' - the local charity shop probably couldn't believe it's luck with all the brand new clothes with tags still on them that I'd finally admitted I would never be wearing. However, when I unpacked these clothes again four months ago, I couldn't believe how reserved I'd been.

This second cull has left plenty of hanging space in my cupboard. Rest assured, though, it will not be empty for long. The one dress strategy is not for me. But, eco shopping definitely is. Vintage, second hand and ebay buys are the order of the day - there will be no more tags on for me!

Me - cynical? Never

2009-08-17T13:28:00.003+01:00

I have to admit that I was somewhat sceptical when we were invited to attend a Naming Ceremony last weekend. I'm not really opposed to them - I just didn't really see the point. If you're not religious then why bother with anything? But I have to say, it was a very enjoyable experience.

After the service, we all went outside for a picnic and to put the time capsule together (ah, now the scepticism becomes clearer). The invite had made it clear that presents were not wanted - instead every attendee had to donate one item that they felt was 'of the moment'. The plan is to give the capsule to said child on his 18th birthday. Yup, I rolled my eyes slightly at this too, but the donations were brilliant - a real range of ideas. Our donation was a Michael Jackson biography. Other items included magazines, a bottle of wine, DVD sets, information about the latest HD technology from Sky (I bet he'll laugh when he sees that in 18 years time - a bit like someone telling us cassette tapes were once cutting edge) and an NHS leaflet about swine flu. Genius!

Overall, it was a great opportunity to get together with friends and celebrate a new life. And, having experienced one, I definitely think this shouldn't only be reserved for people with a more religious take on life. Even better - there's no false pretence about the motive behind the ceremony. What more could you ask for? Roll on the next one, please...

Corporate Fashion? It's a good question

2009-08-15T10:01:00.003+01:00

The blog Fashionista raises a good point in the article Corporate Fashion? Whilst the people in the corporate world are those most likely to afford the latest pair of Prada over-the-knee boots, they probably don't get to wear them as often as someone that, say, works in the offices of Vogue. There is no doubt that before I had H, I'd become pretty lazy when it came to arranging my working wardrobe. I've always been quite the follower of fashion, but working in a very corporate law environment means that anything other than a traditional black skirt suit tends to raise an eyebrow or two. And the simple fact was, it's easy to put on a suit, pull out one (of several) Thomas Pink shirts and walk out the door.

Having H changed all that. During my maternity leave, I'd started to feel that I was living in tracksuits and t-shirts. That's fine one week after you've given birth, but it does start to get you down after a month. Especially since I was lucky enough to have bounced right back into all my pre-pregnancy clothes. (Actually, they were a bit loose, since I seem to have lost weight, but that's another story.)

Going back to work was the perfect reason to start caring about my appearance again. I did notice that other mothers tend to look on with a mixture of scorn and patronising concern if you make too much of an effort for baby group meetings (thank God I don't have to endure those any more) - the inference is that if I've taken too much time putting on makeup, I'm very likely to have neglected my child in the process.

Quite simply, I like arranging what I'm going to wear for the week. Previously, I wouldn't have worn my precious Louboutins at work ('they're far too good for that') but now, there's no stopping me. It's definitely made a difference - both in terms of how I feel and how I'm perceived at work. It was tough to keep the smug look off my face when my boss said I looked like I'd 'just stepped off the catwalk' but I did manage it...just. Admittedly, he probably has no idea what a catwalk looks like, but it was very pleasing just the same. It's not quite roll on Monday - but almost. And that's good enough for me.

Babylicious - food just like you'd make it yourself

2009-08-13T09:44:00.004+01:00

What a find! Quite possibly, the best baby food in the world. Don't get me wrong, Hipp Organic is all very well (and jars are great for being out and about) but after finding out the process the food is treated with in order to give it a longer shelf life, I wanted to find an alternative. (You can read about the process here.) Bablylicious is basically food prepared exactly as I would at home, and then frozen immediately. It comes in little cubes so you can use as much or as little as you like. It's not the cheapest option - obviously, that would be to do it myself - but it is convenient and healthy. What more could you want?

Babylicious used to be available online from their website, but alas, no more. Ocado is the only place I've managed to buy it. They do say that Asda stocks it too, but I've never been able to find any in store. I'll just be sticking to the online shopping fix then.

Anyone for coffee?

2009-08-11T13:55:00.005+01:00

Over Saturday night, we had friends over for dinner (just months ago, we'd have gone out, but that's another story...) and I decided to experiment with some cocktails. I love having cocktails when I go out - lychee martinis are a particular favourite - but I rarely make them at home. Somehow it just seems too fussy. However, we had the previously untouched cocktail glasses from our wedding list (yes, it was last November and no, I don't know what we were saving them for) and I was feeling particularly like a domestic goddess, so I decided to give it a go.

My first choice was dirty martinis because I remembered spying some olives in brine in the fridge. What I hadn't spotted was the decidedly cloudy colour the brine had turned - perhaps indicating that the olives were past their best? A quick check of the best before date confirmed my suspicions. So an alternative was needed. A friend had recently been waxing lyrical about the fabulous espresso martinis at One Aldwych - 'how hard can it be?' I thought. Well, harder than anticipated. As well as espresso (very strong coffee had to make do in my house), the recipe also called for toffee vodka. Toffee vodka? Who on earth ever has that? Not Tescos or Sainsburys near me, that's for sure. Refusing to be beaten, however, I did come across some toffee fudge ice cream topping that I decided would probably serve just as well.

Despite only having one of the actual ingredients required - vodka - as I'd also had to substitute Kuluha for a bottle of Tia Maria I found at the back (way at the back) of the drinks cupboard - I began cocktail shaking like a demon. And, despite not having the right ingredients, or the space in the freezer to chill the glasses appropriately, they actually turned out remarkably well. Very well, in fact. Luckily, there's more than enough of the ice cream topping to last for several more rounds.

If you're interested, this is how I made them:

Ingredients - vodka, tia maria, toffee fudge sauce, very strong coffee

1. Put a handful of ice cubes in each martini glass
2. Put a handful of ice cubes in the cocktail shaker
3. Add a single shot (or double if you can handle your drink) of coffee, tia maria and vodka per person. Then add a teaspoon of the fudge sauce per person - this can be more or less depending on your taste - and shake vigorously
4. Pour over the ice in each glass and drink immediately

The next time I make this, I'm going to try adding Baileys instead of the fudge sauce - I think that might taste good too.

New York, New York

2009-08-02T14:15:00.003+01:00

Finally, the time has come. Every mother goes through it. I'm referring to the first time you leave your child for a prolonged period of time (i.e. longer than the couple of hours where the babysitter sits in your house and gets paid to make sure your child is sleeping). My sister is having man trouble (ahh, the heady days of man trouble and a worry free life) and so, as the dutiful sister, I've booked a ticket out to NYC for a much needed girls night. Indulgent? Yup. But (and this probably goes against all PC lines) I'm quite looking forward to two nights of girlie eating, drinking and a baby-free existence. Don't get me wrong, I love H, but there is something quite intoxicating about a completely stress free night - no feeding, no worrying the baby is suffocating, no having to get up in the middle of the night. Freedom!

We're staying at The Gansevoort and I'm in the process of planning various bars, shops and restaurants to visits during my flying visit. I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with my sis whilst at the same time enjoying some 'me' time. H will be six months old and it will be the first time I've left him overnight. I'm sure he'll cope - and I'm sure I will too (once I've downed a couple of large glasses of wine).

Shopping in style - the vintage way

2009-07-29T15:01:00.005+01:00

I'm fairly new to the whole vintage craze (I know, I know) but recently I've taken to having a good old rummage around Rokit - a vintage shop close to my office. It's a great way to spend the lunch hour - I don't have huge amounts of spare cash at the moment but an hour of window shopping sans Junior makes me feel human again, without depressing myself that I can't buy the latest Farhi offering.

Today saw my first vintage purchase - a Gucci belt bag. It was a snip at £10 and I've been looking for a bag that will be practical while I'm pushing the buggy round, so it's a double winner. Brand new, these bags retail for £320. So, it's official. I'm a vintage convert. It's my first vintage purchase, but it definitely won't be my last!

London Fashion Week is a-coming

2009-07-28T10:10:00.005+01:00

The countdown is well and truly on. London Fashion Week will soon be upon us - and if the previews are anything to go by, we're in for some rocking fashion. Christopher Kane's preview in particular looks fantastic. This is my favourite:

Roll on September.

Alliance no more

2009-07-22T14:06:00.005+01:00

What is it with banks in this country? Useless doesn't even begin to cover it. I've been using Alliance & Leicester for about seven years now (it feels like a lot longer, believe me) and without doubt, they've got worse, not better over time.

The final straw came when I misplaced / had stolen my debit card. I immediately phoned the bank. It took them about five minutes to answer the phone, and I was then on hold for a good 20 minutes. Hmmm. If my card had been stolen, I'm sure the perpetrator was having a high old time at my expense. A less than ideal situation. Finally, just before I die of old age, a chirpy call centre representative answers the phone. She's a helpful lady, providing she doesn't have to deviate from the obvious script she is following. We go through the rigmarole of cancelling my card. I then ask (and it's my own fault for not checking sooner) when I can expect my new debit card. "Seven to ten working days," is the response. SEVEN TO TEN WORKING DAYS - are you having a laugh? How am I supposed to get any cash in the meantime? Apparently, head down to my local A&L branch. Which is miles away. Brilliant. The only response from the now less than happy call centre lady is that it's in my terms and conditions and there's nothing else they are obliged to do.

This, combined with hefty fees for no apparent reason, an inability to link my accounts and the fact that it takes at least 15 minutes to get through on the phone (and then you have to deal with the automated droning rather than actually talk to another human being), has resulted in only one possible outcome - I am leaving the bank. I'm fairly sure that this will not single-handedly bring A&L (or Santander for that matter) to their knees, but enough is enough. I have reached my limit and can't take any more. Which then brings me to the next question. Which bank should I now opt for? That's still up for debate, but one thing's for sure: it won't be a hard act to follow.

Eating, sleeping, eating...

2009-07-17T20:05:00.004+01:00

It's been a hell of a week. On Monday, H rolled over for the first time - a milestone in development, apparently. It's amazing. I really didn't think I'd be so bothered, but after weeks of watching him desperately trying to turn over, it's fantastic to finally see him achieve it. He looked so pleased with himself he reminded me of his dad - until his neck muscles gave way and he proceeded to bury his head in his baby gym. Now I long for the day he can roll himself back over. He has done it once (yesterday, actually) but he hasn't done it again, so I fear that might have been a fluke. It's a strange thing - you spend so long waiting for something to happen and then when it does, you almost wish it hadn't, because now he needs constant monitoring.

As well as the rolling over, this has been the week of introducing solid food. I use that term loosely, because a mush of baby rice and carrot puree really does not constitute solid food in my humble opinion. However, it's yet another milestone, and there is something satisfying about feeding Junior - even if the offering doesn't actually look that appealing to me. Perhaps this is because I know that solid food ultimately = no dream feed. He loves it. As you'd expect, I've bought all the gear - weaning pots, weaning spoons, some starter bowls, bibs - but it was messy and there's no getting away from it. I really hope carrot doesn't stain in a puree form, because I ended up wearing quite a bit of it.

I'm working a full week next week. Whilst the money will be nice, I'm slightly traumatised about a full five days before having a day to tidy / do washing / sterilise multiple bottles etc. This makes me more concerned about my full time return in September. I hoping that by some miracle I'll have developed a skill (that currently eludes me) that enables me to maintain my usual life and look after the little guy. But I'm not convinced that will happen...