Hindsight (and cake)

Today a lovely lady came by to check out all my vintage china, birdcages and general other wedding paraphernalia (aka “wedding 5hit” by Nicky G), which got me to reminiscing. Having to look through all my photos to find pictures of the little details and my centre pieces as ideas for her to steal meant I sat here at my laptop for a long time scrolling through the pictures of our big day, and good lord do I love my wedding pictures! My one piece of advice – get the best damn photographer that your budget can stretch to. Once all is done and dusted, your memories and your photos are all that is left. And as I recently discovered… sometimes even those memories fade…

I never thought I’d start to forget the details – at the time the tiniest thing was life or death to me. Sleepless nights, stand up rows, blood sweat and tears, furious tantrums – the works. Everything had to be perfect and my OCD went in to overdrive. Wise friends, family and industry professionals told me that years in to the future these things wouldn’t matter and I’d look back and wonder why I fussed so much (and spent SO much money) on the minutiae. Things that our guests probably appreciated at the time, but wouldn’t have blinked at, had they not been there and certainly wouldn’t remember. And, it turns out, neither would we.

The other day someone asked me what one item, with hindsight, I would have cut back on.  Without even thinking I reeled off a whole list of things that now, just seem ludicrous to have splurged so much of our budget on. At the time though, I was very much of the mindset that if I could solve a problem (and I encountered lots) by throwing money at it, then that’s what I’d do. There was just so much to think about, to do, make, assemble, decide upon, get sorted, delegate, make work, make fit etc  etc  etc, that for a few things, I just gave up trying to find cheaper solutions and just paid for it simply to get it off my list and out of my headspace.

Now I’m not saying it was wrong, or that I could have made/found better for less money, what I’m saying is that did we even need most of it?

On the same day I was asked about what I would have foregone, I was also asked what flavour cake I had. And do you know what…

I couldn’t remember.

This upset me on a number of levels:

1)      I spent months I tell thee, months, perfecting that cake. It was to be the next biggest “personality” item after The Dress. I researched every option to within an inch of my life (and Nick’s sanity). I sampled more cake in a few weeks than I would normally eat in a year, and I eat a LOT of cake. So I put a LOT of effort in to that cake. I got special cake insurance for crying out loud. I was never just going to head to Waitrose to buy off the shelf wedding cake(like the Duchess of Cambridge)*… not that there’s a problem with that… I just wanted something “different”.

2)      It reminded me that, after all of the hard work and stress in point 1) I didn’t actually get to eat any of the cake itself. All that work and I didn’t even get a slice. Not even a crumb. The girls in the office tell me it was yum – all the different flavours were, apparently. I wish I knew! In fact I wish I knew what they were, let alone what they tasted like.

3)      It finally dawned on me that I really would start to forget these things. Who’d have thunk it? It really is true. Those things start to fade, and not just because of the amount of alcohol I consumed.

But after this evening’s little meet and greet, my heart was warmed again.

I might not remember what cake flavours we had, and I might not remember how many tables we had and I might not remember what hymn we sang first or what the veggie option was – but I will NEVER forget the feelings I had before I walked in to the church, and that scene from the end of the aisle. I will never forget the morning I spent with my girls and my mum getting ready. I will never forget the nervous japes my daddy and I shared in the car en route to the church, the feeling in my tummy as I walked in, the moment I saw my future husbug at the end of the aisle, the way I got my left and right mixed up (a lifelong problem!) with the rings, the problematic word in the reading – in fact all the words of the readings, the little ones happily chitter-chattering away in the church, the quiver in my voice during the vows, the sound of sniffles from the pews (bleurgh!), the speeches, the laughter and the tears (you know who you are!!), I will never forget the feeling of the squeeze of my hand and I will NEVER forget the overwhelming feeling of happiness, love, friendship and togetherness I felt for the whole day. The way that every single person there wished us nothing but happiness and I will NEVER in a million years forget how I humbled I felt by everyone’s wonderful wishes, overwhelming generosity and the support they gave us.

So it just goes to show, I’m not always right (shock horror indeed). The ganache in the cake, the ink on the menus, the hand cream in the loos and the ribbon on the napkins didn’t really matter after all…

In fact, did we even have ribbons on our napkins?

Hmmmm

I’m a complete stresshead and I’ll always be a planner, a stresser, a worrier, a control freak and an over-thinker. That will never change. But I did learn a valuable lesson – it wasn't about "letting go" of the details and trying to stress less. That'll never happen. It’s was finally realising that it's not the wedding that matters, but the marriage. Awwwwwww.

And on that very uncharacteristically soppy note I’m going to sign off and find Mr G for a cuddle and a cuppa and make him look through our wedding album and gush at our happy faces… and then debate over what flavour that middle tier really was. I’m placing my bets on lemon drizzle…

Happy days

Mrs G

x

* Just to point out, again, that I chose Fiona Cairns for my engagement cakes looooong before K-Middy did! I’m just saying…



Doo yoou YooMoo? I doo.

Things that make me smile a little less than last week:

• Personal admin. It sucks. I procrastinate. It gets worse. I procrastinate more. I eat bags and bags of fizzy cola bottles and my tongue bleeds so I have to have a lay down, and then find very interesting things to watch on telly (I used to be fat, World’s strictest parents, Bargain Hunt), and I invent household chores that just must be done instead. Which shows you just how much I hate admin, because I hate chores, muchly!
• Parking fines. Grrrrrr.
• Parking fines, specifically from parking at the gym. As if it wasn’t hard enough to motivate myself already – now if I spend too long in there I get fined £80. Encouraging no?
• Being unable to find the shoes I want to complete my last wedding outfit. I’ve bought five pairs so far this week and returned four…
• One pair of Vivienne Westwood Lady Dragons in pink PVC with peach heart detail on the toe. I just didn’t love them as much as my trusty blue and red ones so they went back. Not before I offered them to our general manager for a sniff. They smell of bubblegum, OBVS!
• A pair of lovely corally-pink almond toe platforms. They had such potential. Turned out to be stripper shoes. Bleurgh.
• Red suede almond toe courts. Red shoes no knickers. That is all.
• Pink suede courts. Identical to my existing Louboutins. Unjustifiable.
• So, come oooooon, SamCam’s nude, suede t-bar sandals from the Royal Wedding. I’m counting on you!
• Nicky Gee working all over the long weekend. Poo bums.
• Geordie Shore*. I know I'm going to get as addicted to this as I am to TOWIE and MIC, but the problem with this one is that I've only just weaned myself off the Cheryl Cole intonation and turn of phrase after the last series of X Factor ended in December. Now, my "head voice" has a Geordie accent.** I can't stop saying my name as "Vic-ee" with Chezza's accent. Damn them!
• Having an office-based job. Hate having to sit inside during sunny afternoons whilst my stalkbook friends post pictures of paddling pools and sun-drenched gardens. (However in the winter I will be mucho grateful for my office-based job so I retain the right to alter this one)
• Generally just not being a millionaire. Being a millionaire would solve all of the above. Almost.

However… in the event of not being a millionaire and needing a means to solve my utter distress at all of the above, I stuffed my face with pomegranate Yoo Moo in all it’s 99% fat-free glory. Smothered in chocolate buttons, mini marshmallows, fudge pieces, brownie bites and gummi bears (yes, proper ones). It’s amazing that something so yummy is just so good for you….

But at the end of the day, it could be worse. Everything I touch could turn in to Skittles.

Night night YooMooers

x

* my thoughts on this coming soon... but to start with "spoonin' turns in ter forkin' dunnit?" Amazeballs!

** Everyone has a "head voice" right?

This week I smiled because

• it’s been exactly 8 years since I stood on the doorstep of The Original Mr and Mrs G and demanded that my Mr G be my boyfriend. It was the only way!
• I got to see Kim’s growing bump wiggle. Keep cooking baby Sones!
• I sang along to Fleetwood Mac week on Glee. Yes, Go your own way indeed.
• I watched Lady Gaga headlining on Radio 1’s Big Weekend
• I squealed at Lady Gaga dedicating a song to Wills and Kate whilst headlining on Radio 1’s Big Weekend. My idol loves my girl crush as much as I do. Excellent.
• me and my buddies, attended a party in colour matched outfits (completely by fluke) and those colours were red, white and blue (my current fave). It’s like we have one mind. We rock. We are cool. Cooooooool Britannia in fact.
• I put the finishing touches to the bedroom. At last.
• I listed and sold my first item on eBay. I knew my degree would come in handy sometime (it was bl**dy complicated!). Bring on more wardrobe clear out!
• the Griffiths went wine tasting… nuff said.
• I got to wear the first of my summer outfits to the Bathhouse for Laura’s birthday.
• I found the three dresses I bought last week for the various weddings and events I’m attending, online with 25% off. Bargaintastic
• I stalked my hairdresser and found him at a new salon (he left my regular one), and got my hair did… and found a new table-wear designer in the process.
• I helped out my lovely friends with their businesses and helping people makes me happy.
• TOWIE won a BAFTA. REEEEEEEEEEEM.
• I caught up with some of my besties... and one of them is coming home from travelling in FIVE DAYS!! So excited!
• PAY DAY!! Thank.The.Lord.

Keep smiling

x

Nobody likes change

Especially not me. Why do they do it? They get you addicted to/completely reliant on/obsessed with something, then they discontinue it and force you in to purchasing the, supposedly, superior product that has replaced it with clever marketing. I work in marketing, I shouldn’t fall for the bullsh*t, but I do.

Everytime.

Also (as a quick aside), I, like many others question the tagline “new and improved”. It can’t be both, can it now? I know it’s not an original statement, but I would like to reiterate the point. IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE… but we all know we get sucked in by it. Why is that? Anyway, back to my point.

Benefit did it with my fave lipstick.

Stella McCartney’s just done it with her perfume.

Office did it with the best, most comfy peep toes in history.

The one that hit me hardest was Wispa being culled from the shelves and being replaced with… Dairy Milk Bubbly. Really?

Fail.

Eventually I get over it (in time for them to re-release them as a "special edition"... see I fall for it everytime!!). But this one, I think I’m going to find it difficult. Why have Haribo messed with the Gold-Bear recipe? WHY? Why on earth would they fiddle with the formula to introduce REAL FRUIT JUICE and more, uh, rubberiser? I liked the e-numbery taste. I liked the firm but slightly gelatinous texture. I crave that hit of chewy, sugary Gold-Beariness.

Are they trying to make them healthy or something? One of your five a day? Who knows. Frankly who cares.

All I know is that I want the old ones back. Pronto. Until then, I’ll be the weirdo in the supermarket holding up bags of Starmix to the light to see what the ratio of Gold-Bears and jelly rings is to fried eggs and foam strawberries.

Hmph.

Don’t get me started on the fizzy cola bottle saga… that’s just too painful. I’m saving that for therapy.

We decorated...

.... six years after moving in, and probably about six months before moving out. But better late than never eh? Well, I say "we", I mean "I". Mr G made the tea and bought the paint. Still valuable contributions though.

Not much I can really say about it, to be honest. One of my friends said it looked "like a seaside B&B", which made my day, and can only be a good thing. Who doesn't want to wake up feeling like you're on holibobs every day? The only problem is actually then realising I'm not on holiday and then having to get up and go to work. Boo.

I also decorated in the midst of Royal Wedding fever and in my "nautical" obsession phase, meaning that the room is a bit of a mish-mash of extreme patriotism and nautical styling. It works for me for now. Call me in six months when we're trying to sell and ask me how much I like it then....

Then again, it could be worse. Ask my parents about my "under the sea" phase. Those of you that have visited Chez Hale will have witnessed the remnants of that phase... hmmmmm

In Gaga We Trust

The new album arrives next week.

This makes me happy. In fact, this makes me ECSTATIC!

Her first album, The Fame, rocked my world. I listened to it non-stop for weeks. It was the soundtrack to some of my happiest memories of 2009. For example…

·    Katy and I made up a dance to Poker Face on a beach in Brisbane. We found a way around the “no music” rule by both listening to it on our iPods at the same time. Basically a silent disco for two. Yeah… we got some strange looks. But mainly they were from my mum. So there’s nothing different there.

·    Jumping around like loonies at V festival (after a slight tantrum when Oasis ruined everyone’s fun and my finely tuned plans) as she flung her shoes about and did nasty things to a piano.

·    My gorgeous friends and family dressed me up as Lady G on my hen weekend and they dressed up as my Pink-arazzi.  Some glorious rows with the doormen of Edinburgh ensued (“what do you mean I can’t come in with a wig on… what if I was bald? That’s discrimination. OOOOR, what if I ACTually was Gaga. You wouldn’t turn her away for wearing a wig would you?”) and some twit of a girl actually thought we were famous. Who were we to burst her bubble…

·    Rocking out with my girls on the dancefloor at my wedding, wearing my Lady Gaga glasses… Brings a tear of happiness to my eye just thinking about it.

·    The list is endless…

And then, when we wondered what she’d do next, she brought out the bonus mini-album, The Fame Monster. She burst on to our screens to promote it, dressed as an armour-plated, slightly unhinged cat in a giant bath and wiped the floor with Cheryl Cole with her live vocals on X Factor. HA!

Bad Romance was WICKED! Against the backdrop of her condemnation by religious bodies across the world, Baby Bro and I spent hours discussing the alleged hidden messages, masonic symbolism and the faintly disturbing imagery in her videos and the intelligence of her lyrics. She stopped being my latest girl crush and became a minor obsession. Actually, a major obsession. She was no longer just a musician and performer. She was a sociological study! Some would have you believe she was a new-gen Illuminatus... Hmmm.

Either way, I hadn’t loved anyone this much since Madonna.

So when she did the video for Alejandro, it was a complete homage to Madge. Heaven. I was no longer cheating on Madonna with Gaga, now they were virtually combined in to one person! Excellent, my hero worship became much simpler and I felt much less guilty!

And then? And THEN she performed on the Royal Variety Show, dressed as an S&M Elizabeth I and curtseyed to the Queen… later telling Jonathan Ross how excited and nervous she was to meet Queenie. Gaga loves Queen Liz I and Queen Liz II, too!

So, I don’t need to tell you that I managed to get my hands on tickets. I wore cat ears and Gaga glasses and sang or screamed at the top of my voice while she performed every live vocal and every energetic dance move with passion. This must have been what it felt like for my friends when they screamed for boybands back in the day. Or, in fact, last year. (Maybe fangirl is going to have to share the love around… Queenie and Gaga!?).

But then she went quiet and it was all about the fashion. Which blows my mind. But the music and performing blows my mind more.

So, when Born This Way dropped, I snaffled it up, another homage to Her Madgesty (anyone else accidentally start singing Express Yourself halfway through?) and me likey. But me likey Judas more (does the video make you think of Like a Prayer, too?) so I snaffled that up as well and I’ve listened to it non-stop since.

Which brings me to present day. She dedicated a song to Wills and Kate, changed the words to Orange Coloured Sky to make it a love story about the Royal Wedding then sat atop a grand piano and sang some old school jazz. Could I be any more excited?

Gaga hearts the Royals as much as me and a new album in less than a week. Happiness is...



Gaga being Queenie... Queenie and Gaga swapping style tips... Queenie being Gaga

God Save Lady Gaga. In Gaga we Trust.

Only 7200 minutes until the album drops......

Pretend anniversary

That's what today is.

Today is 8 years (I think) since that famous scene, so elegantly represented by our best men in a mini roleplay during their wedding speech, took place for real.

For those of you that weren't there for their re-adaptation, it went a little something like this.

Really.


Mrs G (i.e. Me): *knock knock knock*

Door: *opens*

Mr G: Hello

Mrs G: Hello...

Mr G: Hi

Mrs G: So are you going to be my boyfriend then or what?

Mr G: Alright then

Mrs G: Great. See you later then

Mr G: Laters

Door: *shuts*

Car: *starts, vrooms off (I was in my Girl Racer Phase) in the direction of Caroline's house*

...15 minutes later...

Mrs G: I think [Mr G] is now my boyf.

Caroline: THANK THE FREAKING LORD, you were doing my head in.

And people say that romance is dead!

Pah.

Five reasons why MIC needs to bow-ie to TOWIE…

1.   The names
Binky. Caggie. Hugo. Really?

2.   The hair
The big, overly coiffed hair in TOWIE is chav-tasticly over the top, granted. The big, overly coiffed hair in MIC is ON DUDES… come on!

3.   Fred
“I just got back from Damascus for this date with Millie… I’ve got a sick entrance planned”. WHO IS THIS GUY? He needs new shoes, new lines and a haircut.

4.   Stupidity
Stupidity from Essex dipsticks is acceptable. They’re reverting to type and they’re playing tongue in cheek characters. I’ll let it go because they’re lovable dopes (except Mark – he’s a complete pr!ck!) and they stay away from business and politics and occupy themselves with glamour modelling and club promoting. Stupidity and complete ignorance from privately educated posh twats in Chelsea isn’t. These people end up in charge of the country/big banks/hedge funds or marrying royalty. If they can’t even get their childhood authors correct (“Charles Dickens wrote Winnie the Pooh. No, Pride and Prejudice. Dickens wrote Victorian books like Pride and Prejudice…”) then I’m not sure they should be trusted with complicated machinery like eyelash curlers.

5.   Blindness…
…or denial? How is it that Gabby doesn’t know that her boyfriend is gay? I quote:

·         “Can you tan through fake tan?”

·         (about a guy) “Look there’s a hottie over there...”

·         “Have you got my eyelash curlers?”

And the final reason I don’t like it….

"I think fake tan is the most offensive thing in the world"

Uh, actually, I would say that position was occupied by your face. Totes.

We Essex-ites might be orange, a bit chav-tastic and say stupid things, but at least we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

Essex rules… innit.

P.S. Totes still going to watch though… am like totes hooked, though yah.

Do you have a girl crush?

Because I do. Lots.

Not just on famous people, but on a few “real life” people too. I’ll keep those to myself though, otherwise it could get a bit, uh, weird. I do get confused though, is it a girl crush if you want to BE the girl or if you want to be friends WITH her? Sometimes I want to do both, sometimes one or t’other.  Urban Dictionary provides no assistance, with definitions for both the former and the latter.

So here’s the list, in no particular order. It’s also interchangeable. Tomorrow it could look completely different. Except for the obvious… you know who I mean!

1.       P-Middy

That dress? What more do you need from me?

2.       Lady Gaga

Because she was born that wa-hey

3.       Fearne Cotton

I heart her nostrils (and her hair and her clothes and her face and her job…)

4.       Davina McCall

I want her to be my Big Sister

5.       Helena Bonham-Carter

Just exquisite, but the original bonkers bird.

6.       Emma Watson

Mainly so I can copy her homework, but I'd also borrow her Burberry mac and steal her Lancome lippie and get her to introduce me to her best buds...

7.       Lily Allen

Cos she’s just a normal girl, innit

8.       The Duchess of Cambridge
You need an explanation?

9.       Victoria Beckham
...the wardrobe, the career, those cute kiddies… Mr Beckham…

10.   Dianna Agron
She just fills me with Glee

Who's yours?

x

 

My wardrobe looks like a fruit salad

Recent additions to my ever-expanding collection of summery clothes include items covered in juicy cherries, bitten apples and zingy lemons. Which means that I'm bang on trend according to Grazia magazine and Wacey Style! I'm probably being a bit optimistic that the British weather will be suitably summery enough to wear all these new fruity acquisitions, so it's lucky I have lots of holibobs planned over the coming months. Yay me!

Looking at these I've realised I only need two more and I'm done for my five-a-day...

I've just eaten carrot cake and I'm wearing strawberry lipbalm - does that count?

Feelin' fruity

Vx

I finally found my inner fan girl

I never screamed for boy bands, didn't cry when they split up. I didn't really do the fan club scene or buy magazines because they promised to spill the innermost secrets of the latest boy crush. I did posters (Sugar, Mizz and Seventeen were the best) but mainly because I was in my black lipstick phase and had a bit of an issue with my pink flowery walls. I dabbled in a few signed pictures but I was never loyal to one heartthrob. I was more in to fashion and beauty magazines than gossip ones (and I still am). My room was covered in pictures of real people that I knew and loved, plus a few crushes, as I took my camera to school most days and on most nights out (and again - I still do!). In fact I found seven rolls of undeveloped film from my school days the other day whilst clearing out our bedroom (more on this coming soon). I wonder what's on them...  the mystery! Remember those days of film and imperfect pictures? I miss those days. The days when you took a picture and a few days later you got to see it. It told a story, a true reflection of the moment. Now, we take a picture, we check it out, we scrutinise every face, every pose, we judge how we look in comparison to others and we debate whether to keep it and then if all captured photographees concur, we keep it.  Unless you know my friend Katy… she’s a stealth deleter. She’ll snaffle your camera away and edit your photos. Sneaky. But then, I don’t have a single bad picture of her. So, clearly effective. 
 
I miss those imperfect pictures and the laughs they give you years later. Then again, is it so bad that years in the future only decent pictures of me can be found? Probably not.
 
Anyway, I digress. I was talking about my lack of obsessive fangirling as a teen.
 
Over the last few years I've discovered that I have an inner fangirl desperate to escape. And guess what, at Royal Ascot last year she got loose in a big way. I got butterflies whilst we were waiting to see The Queen come round in her open-topped coach. I got excited and flustered and struggled to contain my emotions, and then I saw her… In. The. Flesh. Ok it was from about 50 metres away, but she was there. And so was I. And I cried. Fangirl was well and truly released!
 
Since then I have befriended the British Monarchy on Stalkbook, I follow them on Twitter, I read every story published in the daily news and devour every detail of their daily lives. Basically I'm turning in to my Nan. But I'm not ashamed. I LOVE THE QUEEN!
 
Back at the time of the Golden Jubilee everybody wondered why I got so excited and dressed like a slightly unhinged pearly queen for work, but they took it that I was just embracing the spirit and patriotism of the day. Now that Royal Fangirl has escaped, we know what actually happened is that I'm obsessed with Queenie!
 
When she came to Canary Wharf (my home from 9.30-5.30, Mon-Fri) to open a new building I dashed up the road in minus temperatures in just my cardy to be there waiting and clapping when she daintily slipped out of the Rolls. Half the office thought I was crazy.... They're probably not far short of the mark to be fair.
 

Queenie, Kate and Wills popped in for a beer...

And then, the best thing since, well, EVER happened. Wills proposed to Kate. There was to be a Royal Wedding. Can you imagine my excitement? Royals on the telly, in magazines, newspapers and newsfeeds ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, and a whole new HRH to adore. I was in heaven! I planned a party (my second fave thing to do after loving the royals), bought royal family masks, covered my parents’ house in Union Flag (not Union Jack, as Baby Bro informed me the other day) bunting, commissioned trays and trays of patriotic cupcakes and giant scones, issued all the guests with a flag to wave during the national anthem and bought every Victoria Sandwich in a five mile radius. In fact I still am in royal wedding heaven. There’s still a new story every day, and there’s Zara’s wedding coming up in a few months. I literally cannot wait for more glossy pages of royal news. I might even throw another party. Now there’s an idea……
 
Fangirl isn't fussy. If there's a whiff of HRH in the title they're on my list! I just can't get enough. It's not the "princes are hot" aspect. Nor the "I want to marry a prince and be a real-life princess" gene that most girls are born with (me included - though mine mutated in to the "become a real-life princess and then one day become Queen and boss everyone about ‘Off With Their Heads’ styley" gene). I could probably recite the list of heirs-to-the-throne to you up to about 50^th in line.
 
The question is why? Maybe it’s because I'm in love with history, but have grown up in a society that is obsessed with celebrity. Aren't the royals the ultimate celebs? Well they are to me!
 
I mean, it's not just the present-day royals I'm in love with, but all royals. I watch David Starkey's documentaries with the attention I reserve for things like Glee, Lost and Friends. I read books about the Wars of the Roses and about Marie Antoinette's childhood. I got upset when HBO cast Johnny Lee Miller as Henry VIII and fabricated a soap opera-style porn series about one of his wives. I buy the Hello magazine specials when minor European Royalty tie the knot. I wander around castles, palaces, tombs and monuments on days out and trips abroad, imagining the feet that trod those floors before mine, poring over the family trees and royal lineage that links them across the continent....
 
So there you go. Fangirl well and truly released, and coming to a town near you, complete with flag, plastic tiara and national anthem song sheet. Now that Kate and Wills wedding is over, what am I going to do with all my stuff?

I have two words for you - DIAMOND JUBILEE. It's gonna be massive!

Patriotic party-ness. Are you ready for the Diamond Jubilee? Because I am....

Yours royally
 

HRH, Princess Victoria of Danbury, Duchess of Chelmer Village

x

What's in a name?

 

In case i forget to whom I belong...

So, who am I? I'm me.... I go by various aliases (depending which dating site you're looking at - joke. I'm super-happily married) and I'll outline a few for you here, mainly for your entertainment than for any specific information...

• Victoria: the basic name, screeched regularly by the Mothership (you'll meet her later) written on my school reports and on my pay slips. It does the job. It was my great grandmother's middle name. She let me borrow it and I'm looking after it like a good girl, so I might be allowed to keep it.... 
• Slipper: my main alias and now my nom de plume. I was named this shortly after conception, and Daddy Bear (you'll also be introduced to him later) has called me this ever since. There is a cute story about why that is my name. Let's meet up for a cosmo and I'll tell you all about it. He refers to me as such when talking about me (regardless of whom he is addressing), to me, when asking the switchboard at work to be put through to me, when handing me over to be married and when telling me off. The day he calls me "Victoria" I'll know he's been abducted by aliens...
• Victoria Francesca Jablonska: the extended form, it speaks of my Italian and Polish heritage and is regularly written and pronounced incorrectly. I've learned to deal with it. Interesting fact: Jablon means "appletree" in Polish. So there you go!
• Viki: the first diminutive. It's been spelled various ways over the years but it's been this way since year 10 physics when I got bored of velocity and distance and switched it from Vici to Vikki and then dropped a "K" so I only had to buy four beads for the necklace I was making. Those that have been there since the beginning still use the C. I'm like a tree - you can date my friendships by the way they spell my name!
• Viki Fanny J: the "mickey take" nickname. For those that found the pronunciation of my actual name difficult. i.e. My husband! But really the joke's on him... isn't it?
• Aunty Toria: the second diminutive and a recent addition to the list. My beautiful god daughter already has an Aunty Vicky (you're bound to meet both on these here pages at some point) so her clever Mummy (someone else you'll defo be meeting) distinguished between us by splitting the name in two. And I love it! In the same way that no one else calls me Slipper but Daddy Bear, no one else calls me Toria but Issy and that makes it special!
• Sticky: affectionate pi55 take #1. With my name there were two ways for the primary school kids to go. Hale the Whale or Sticky Viki. Seeing as I was Twiglet-thin, laughably gangly and ridiculously underweight as a child (sadly the latter isn't an affliction I've taken with me in to adulthood), certain kids chose the more appropriate name and for those it's kind of stuck. It's much less relevant now though, but thankfully they haven't reverted to the other option.... Yet!
• Hale Wench: affectionate pi55 take #2. No rhyme or reason for this, other than the fact that myself and a friend (another one for the introductions) were the only girls in the Business Studies 'A' Level class and so we were given horrid names to fit in with all their well-meaning teenage boy name calling. At least I assume that was the case, as I certainly wasn't wench-like and she certainly wasn't Dirty.
• Vikihalo: my Powerpuff Girl name! Whoopah - I'll get you with my halo slinging skills, Odd Job styley! It's now my email address and user name for everything. Boring!
• RIA: the misheard name that was used by Baby Bro (you'll DEFO get to hear all about him asap!) for the first few years of his life. He had problems with his hearing, and I had problems with my behaviour. Shout the name Victoria with the emphasis on the last two syllables, much like The Mothership did. All. The. Time. Poor Baby Bro only ever heard "victo-RIA" and so assumed Ria was my name. Bless him.
• Victoria Plum: the obvious childhood nick name, but one I liked. She was cute, she was brunette (unlike most characters in those days), she was naughty and messy and mischievous, she wore dresses made of petals and she found moonbeams in the woods and I wanted to be her. My parents bought a plum tree for the garden as a nod to the name. And then planted it in honour of my brother... "Why?" you might ask. Well, planting the the plum tree for me was too obvious and they like to be different. So they planted a pear tree for me instead. You have to question the sobriety of the parents that bought a plum tree for their son and a pear (pair?) tree for their daughter........ Think about it. There you go.
• Princess VH: I have absolutely no idea why I would ever deserve this nickname ( ;-) ), first coined by the lovely CT, but it's a goodun so I'm keeping it!
• Mrs G: a recent acquisition to my alias list. On 19.09.09 I married Mr G (a.k.a Griff, Gruff, Grifter The Boy, The Husbug, Number One Son, Golden Boy and Sarge) and so I became Mrs G. We had a big party to celebrate the name change, I had a special dress and we all ate a big cake and drank bubbly and there were speeches and everything... but I got so drunk I forgot to actually do it. Whoopsie.
• Griffette: the newest name on the block and coined by a friend of Mr G (also a Mr G). Seeing as my Mr G has two sisters (Mini Griff and Baby Griff) there were no other Griff titles left for me. And so, in honour of Smurfette, Griffette got added to the list and I love it.
• ...and the rest: VH, VickStar, Victorious, Victor, Krum, Vic1, Hale... and i'm sure there'll be more to come!

So that's me. Pick a name, any name and I'll be sure to answer. Unless you call me Vic. Then, unless you're Caroline, it's unlikely to get you on my Christmas card list!

Peas and love

.... all of the above...

x

The first post...

Always going to be a toughie. So what am I going to do? Be witty and fabulous and wow you with my linguistic abilities?

Nope!

I'm going to bottle it and move on to the second post. Ha!

See you there....