Five photos

When the lovely Gemma tagged me in her "Five photos that make me smile" post, I ran my battery down to zero trying to work out how to select five photos from what must be the thousands I've uploaded over the last eight years. Eight years? How is that possible?

What was easy though, was what I wanted to represent. I know exactly what makes me smile...

Family
Nuclear, extended, blood, those I've acquired through marriage, those I've lost over the years and my god family - they all count. They all matter.
My wonderful, amazing family make me smile.
Even the crazies.
Especially the crazies!

Mr G
I found a goodun. I snared him. I'm keeping him. I'm not smiling because I'm married to him. I'm married to him because he always knows when and how to make me smile.
Always.

My friends
I wrote a long smushy post about this a while ago. Wow, how things have changed. Some of the faces have gone, new ones have arrived (hello WAGs, Dirty Thirties, Pineapple Club, work roomies old and new), but the sentiment still stands... that I am lucky beyond my wildest dreams to have the love, support and companionship of so many lovely people that are here, beside me because they want to be, not because they have to be (through marriage, blood or shared office space!)
My friends make me smile.
I hope I make them smile in return...

Opportunity
The world is my oyster.
I can go where I want. I can be who and what I want. I can believe what I want. I'm so lucky that I have choice, means, direction and support.
This photo represents two things - travel and work (yup, these days, my work makes me smile - check it here).  Traveling broadens horizons, I get to see, feel, experience new things. My job affords me the means to do that, but often presents opportunities (in this photo I was en route to Paris to start my secondment . One of the best things, ever. Ever!). Having a job that challenges me and surrounds me with inspiring people means I also have a reason to get up in the morning and take on the day. Having opportunities make me smile.

A place to call home
Opportunity, travel, the world is my oyster. But I have a place to call "home". I know I will always have somewhere to go. I know where home is. I know where I belong. I know where I'm safe. Somewhere to be still, calm, secure. I know that no matter what. No. Matter. What. I can go "home" and be welcomed, loved, nurtured and healed. It's not a place per se (though my family home and the home I bought and made great with Mr G make me very happy indeed), it's a feeling. A feeling not everyone is lucky enough to have and so I cherish it.
It makes me smile on the inside.

I suppose in the literal sense the effort I've put in to making our actual house full of fun, love, pretty, and parties also makes me smile.

Who was it that said "They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for"?

Don't say "Instagram"...! Whomever it was, I'm minded to agree.

So there we go - five pictures (yes I know I bent interpreted the rules slightly) that make me smile.

Thanks Gemma. YOU make me smile!

As an aside, this post has been a bit like therapy for me. I haven't blogged for a while as I lost a bit of my spark. I lost some people that I thought my spark depended on and I found it hard to articulate those feelings of hurt, loss and bewilderment without reference to that loss.

However, I've always tried to be grateful for what I do have rather than dwelling on what I don't (cough, Chanel handbag, cough), and I've just realised that this situation is no different.

So in writing this status-update-that-grew-in-to-a-blog-post post I managed to get it off my chest and get back in the game.

I've also been bonkers-mad-busy. Double busy.

So, now I'm back in the game* look out for a "catch up" post!

There'll be pictures. Lots. And they'll all make me smile.

Ciao 

*too many Micky Flanagan references? :-)

The Magic Chair: predicting the future (Eat, sleep, rave, repeat)

My parents are going through a bit of a house rejuvenation and renovation project. Must be all the spring air.

My Baby Bro and I have been summoned to collect artefacts from our old rooms or to authorise the binning of boxes of all of our treasured childhood memories toot as they gut them and re-decorate. We seem to be in a constant state of negotiation, and application, for Childhood Memory Storage Plans.

It was against this backdrop of change that my mum sent me a scan of my much-dicussed, but never seen, childhood story, The Magic Chair.

I wrote it when I was about seven and my dad had it typed up for me to illustrate and then had it bound as a keepsake. It was at that point that I got shy about it, and hid it.

For all eternity.

Or until 2014 when they started ripping out bookshelves.

Have a quick read.

See if there's anything that grabs you from my infant imagination, or stands out in my prowess in illustration and storytelling:

Well, to start with, I'm no Quentin Blake or A.A. Milne, am I? NO!! Not. At. All.

I tell you what I can do though?

I can tell the bl**dy future!!!

I, sorry, a little girl called "Emma" sat on a chair, a lot. No walking or running for me/Emma. I'm a sitter through and through. The more I can sit, the happier I am. My magic chair carries me all over the world, even underground, to where I need to be.

Oh, and look, in between all the sitting down and whizzing around, I seem to be very focussed on planning. Making plans that involve a heavy emphasis on food and travel and a lot of hanging out, drinking and eating with new, colourful friends all over the world.

"... ate, slept, went on a trip, ate some food whilst I was there, came back and went to sleep, got up, went on some more trips, ate some more food, then went to sleep..."

So basically: Eat. Sleep. Rave. Repeat.

Oh, and you know, just hanging out, maxing, relaxing all cool with my main man God*.

No biggie.

Apparently I was pretty amazing at rocking a possesive apostrophe in plural as well...

Magical indeed.

* I reckon I probably wrote this around the time of my first Holy Communion or Confession. You know, when you're discovering that God is omnipotent and important (and not impotent)...

Ciao Bella Twenty Thirteen

Woooooooah! All of a sudden it's NYE. I haven't posted in an aaaaaaage. I've just been so busy... living the last days of 2013, it seems.

It's been a year of spectacular highs and some rather upsetting lows. Ultimately though, the happy faces have outweighed the tears, and I can hand on heart say I've had a great year full of amazing opportunities, self discovery and life lessons... oh, and a LOT of fun with my loved ones. Even, a little on my own.

I shan't go in to it all. I shan't get all mushy and wordy about it. I shan't do a month-by-month analysis. I have NYE cocktails to plan and glitter to apply...

Instead, I shall reminisce in the way I know best - with pictures! Click play, or on the link below, and turn up the sound...

http://flipagram.com/f/Or2pnpUdYK
 

Ahhhh, memories.

Right now, at the same time as reliving my 2013 highlights, I'm mega excited about the funtimes and new experiences 2014 has to offer and putting a fresh start in to action. Oh, and the fact that Sherlock is finally back... tomorrow! *squeeeeee*

See you next year, peas and love!
x

Magical childhood memories

I saw this post about Dinovember (a month-long imagination invasion) on Facebook today. I thought it was BRILLIANT.

Picture of Dinovember from here - go check it out! 

The parents sound like fun, creative, imaginative people. The kind of people who probably enjoy setting up the scenes (after a few glasses of vino?) as much as their kids enjoy discovering them.

 

I love it. 

 

For two reasons:

1) these adults sound like me - still a big kid inside
2) it reminded me of my own similar magical childhood experiences...

*cue wiggly lines across screen to nostalgic flashback*

When I was small my Nanny used to do something similar to Dinovember with my colouring books. An early recogniser of my OCD tendencies, she would see me getting frustrated with myself when I would go over the lines in my colouring books. I'd only ever use pencil so I could rub it out, and I was fastidious about sticking to the correct colours - especially with Disney characters! 

 

Sometimes I'd get up in the morning and whilst eating my breakfast (porridge with lots of crunchy brown sugar and "children's tea") I would discover that one of the pictures would have been beautifully shaded in, facial contouring, light and shade and even patterns on the clothing.  Nanny would always say the fairies did it!

 

After a while I realised it was her, but I kept it up for a long time afterwards. Even though I knew it wasn't magic, it felt magical anyway!

I also remember when my Granddad used to paint big pictures on canvasses (apparently I have an arty family!) of a field or the beach or a garden, and even just the view from their front window on to the cul-de-sac (which is now in my baby bro's old bedroom at home). Sometimes we'd go to stay and a new character would have appeared in the picture. There'd be people eating a picnic on a blanket, or playing with a ball or sitting in deck chairs soaking up the sunshine. That was fun. To run in and spot any differences. Then in the morning I'd wake up and it'd be raining and cloudy and all the people would be gone. 

 

Again, I got older and eventually worked it out, but even then it was still fun to see the characters he came up with. 

 

Other magical things happened at Nanny and Granddad's house too - the family in my dolls house (handmade by Granddad and furnished by Nanny) or the workers in my brother's petrol station (again painstakingly designed, made and decorated with their own fair hands) would go about their daily business - food would appear on the tables, cars on the garage forecourt and one day even a baby arrived.

Ahhh, magic!

Baby moi!

*cue wiggly lines across screen to bring me back to present day*

Ahhh, imagination and magic. You can't do that shizz on an iPod. I'm off out to buy a colouring book.

Obsession: Instagram and Inkifi

Anyone that follows me on Instagram will know that I am obsessed with it. I have nearly 1000 photos on there. I just can't get enough of the snapping and treating and posting and liking and hashtagging...

Not a day goes past, really, without an Instagram opportunity. In fact, at the bottom of this post is an Instagram, of - wait for it - a collection of Instagrams. Oh yes.

Anyway, for Mr G's birthday I got a montage print made of our California road trip using Inkifi, which I found via a January Joy post on Florence Finds. It was also one of my New Year resolutions to get a bit more organised with my photos, so I feel very smug on three accounts:

1. Instagram makes me look like a much better photographer than I am. Hurrah!
2. Mr G loved it. Present Win!
3. I completed a resolution. Yay!

So here we go:  

Funky, right?

And such a great representation of our memories.

I went for the framed option and I think we'll put it in the hallway. One wall is full of people and the other full of travel... and seeing as the floor is full of shoes, the hallway will now be full of my favourite things. All I need is a cocktail bar and I'm all set.

Now that I've seen how cool these look, I'm itching to get some more made...

Out and About: Spice Girl Saturday

There's been a running theme of history over the last month or so in my posts. I started January with some sofa-based time travel through my childhood using the medium of old school TV and film, I did some Walking with Dinosaurs, made a trip to the Titanic exhibition in Belfast and wrote about my visit to the Cabinet War Rooms on Florence Finds.

The last three were all a bit grown up and serious, so I needed something a) a bit more upbeat and b)some slightly more recent history - step up The Spice Girls and Viva Forever!

I loved the Spice Girls. Correction, I LOVE the Spice Girls. I've loved them since they first mimed Wannabe on breakfast TV. They provided a soundtrack to my teenage years. They inspired us to dress like divs, dance like mad girls, perform their hits in the school talent shows (prompting rows with rival groups in the playground) and shout "GIRL POWER" as a response to anything and everything. For example:

P.E. Teacher: "Go outside and run cross country"
Me: "NO - and you can't make me, because, well, GIRL POWER!"

Exam board letter: "Dear Ms Hale, You achieved an A in your French GCSE exam... blah... accepted on the A level course... blah"
Me: "Brilliant. GIRL POWER!"

McDonalds drive through operative: "Drive round to the next window please"
Me: "Ok. GIRL POWER!"

They had attitude but weren't bitches. They inspired outfits/hairstyles but weren't fashionable. They were naughty but they weren't bad girls. They wore skimpy outfits but they weren't slutty. They weren't the best singers, the best dancers, the best actresses or the best looking, but in my humble (musically uneducated) opinion they were the original and BEST girl group. They worked hard, put the time and effort in, took control and responsibility, they gave it their all and seemed to have so much fun whilst they were doing it, and most importantly, they did it for the girls, not for the boys. For me they were inspirational role models, and, really, when I look at them as Spice Women, they still are. Oh, and they reformed for London2012 and used black cabs as skateboards. Awesome!
Anyway, I digress. Enough gushing about my love for the Spices, let me tell you how we played homage to them this weekend.

We started out with tickets to the show Viva Forever! purchased by Katy and Claire (the Disney Princesses) as Christmas presents for me and their big sisters (the 2-4-1s) and then we all got over excited when we discovered that Harvey Nichols was serving a Spice Girls-themed afternoon tea in their Season restaurant and Spice Girls-themed champagne cocktails in their Fifth Floor Bar. So we booked in, last minute, to sample both before the theatre.

The afternoon tea started off with mini savoury bites: a cured beef and chutney bagel, an egg and cress roll, smoked salmon on pumpernickel and chicken and chutney roulade in fresh white bread, which we all wolfed down in our excitement to get to the sweet treats: the Sporty Spice cake pop, the Baby Spice mouse (served in a bottle), the Ginger Spice Union Flag lemon and ginger mille feuille, the Scary Spice chilli and chocolate roll (complete with white chocolate leopard print, ahem, decoration) and the Posh Spice Harvey Nics-branded marzipan and Victoria (of course) sponge handbag. There were also the usual scones with jam and clotted cream on the menu too.

You all know how I love a theme, and you all know how I love an afternoon tea, so add in the Spices and I was virtually fizzing with excitement. And then it got better... with cocktails!

We started off with some standard cocktails from the menu (with which we are already familiar, following our cocktail masterclass, back in the summer) and then we worked our way through the themed cocktails, which were delicious. It was difficult to select, but in the end I was happy with my choice of the Scary (Fresh chilli, lychee liqueur topped with Champagne). We spent most of our time talking about our favourite Spice (mine's Victoria - obvs), our favourite songs (mine being Who Do You Think You Are) dance routines (Spice Up Your Life) and generally making a spectacle of ourselves singing, laughing and pinning the bows from our cocktail glasses in our hair (I was grateful for the splash of leopard print against my all-black outfit)!

A few pictures as a group (sadly, no one took Katy's instructions to dress according to the Spice we had been allocated, except for me in black) then we piled in to a cab and made our way to the Piccadilly Theatre.

They clearly saw us (as in a gaggle of giggly, slightly intoxicated girls) coming at the door as we were immediately offered the opportunity to be "upgraded" to the Ambassador Lounge, a small private room with a dedicated waiter to bring us drinks and nibbles before the show and during the interval "for only a small fee". Hmmm. Of course we accepted and it was all pretty exciting as it was the room the Spices themselves had used on visiting the theatre to watch the show. Naturally we acted like complete geeks, singing and dancing around the room, posing for cheesy photos and generally not playing it in the slightest bit cool.

We needn't have worried, about playing it cool because the minute we walked out in to the theatre itself and saw the audience we fitted right in! 98% female, and 100% tipsy the audience, like us, was raring to get stuck in to some Spice Girls singalongs...

We weren't disappointed.

I won't ruin the story, but I will say that it won't be winning any Olivier awards. In the same vein as Mamma Mia and We Will Rock You, the story is just a vehicle for the songs to be introduced and you can see them coming a mile off. But, as a Spice Girls fan, guessing what's coming is one of the best bits!

I'm not a theatre critic so I won't analyse the staging, casting (although there were two stand outs!) or scripting but it has Jennifer Saunders written all over it, which is a good thing in my book. There's more than a hint of Eddie, Patsy and Bubble in amongst the main characters and I swear I heard one of Patsy's Ab Fab lines crop up. If you loved Ab Fab, Ugly Betty, Glee and The Catherine Tate Show you'll love the characters. If you follow(ed) shows like X Factor and Pop Idol you'll recognise parodies of some very prominent characters from  Saturday night TV and you've read Ben Elton's Chart Throb then you'll get the underlying message. Basically, if you read this list and know what I'm wittering on about, then we're on the same wavelength and you'll really enjoy it! I chose not to read the reviews, but I heard that the critics panned it. Clearly they were boring, a bit too serious, old, and male.

Come on. It's not Les Mis, but if you don't expect it to be, you can just appreciate it for what it is, and have fun. Also, when else can you go to the theatre and, during a touching romance scene, put your arms in the air and sing along to 2 Become 1 at the top of your voice or stand up and do the original dance moves along with with cast (and the rest of the audience) to Stop or Spice Up Your Life?

My suggestion? If you don't take yourself or your theatre choices too seriously, and, of course, if you are a Spice Girls fan then get your glittery platforms on, round up your best girls for a some pre-drinks and go see it!

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE!

Read more about the Viva Forever Champagne Cocktails here and the Viva Forever Afternoon Tea here.

Book tickets and find out more about Viva Forever, the show, here.

31



Birthday cakes!

Last year I turned thirty. It was a big fat birthday. One I'd been looking forward to, genuinely, since I turned 26. 

26 is the end of your mid-twenties. All you have ahead is your late-twenties, your thirties (apparently "The New Twenties"), middle age and then a slide in to retirement while you save for a bio-degradable coffin and a sandwich buffet. Smashing.

My late twenties were a time I spent arguing with Mother Nature, Mr G, and myself. It was a "nothing" era. Well, ok, not nothing, beautiful babies were born (not to me), weddings were had (one by me), mortgages were issued (kind of to me), life plans were made (ish), amazing trips were booked and travelled (LOTS) and careers were defined (sort of), but still, I was itching to get to thirty. I couldn't wait for the cool stuff to start happening, you know – all that really cool stuff that happens to you after thirty... hmmm?



Cake for breakfast

For me, with the exception of a few killer highlights (that would be the weddings, trips of a life time, the arrival of some amazing kids, of course), I felt like I was living the second book in a trilogy: 

• First book/first 25 years: scene setting, intros and back story.
• Middle book (or in the case of the Harry Potter series: Order of the Phoenix)/25 – 30 years: filler stuff and a time to get impatient before the good shizzle gets started.
• Last book/30+: the climax and the happily ever after.  

**Let me remind you here, I've always been massively impatient (I want it all and I want it NOW), have always believed that "something amazing" is on its way (it's not – what it is, is amazing now and I should learn to appreciate the now a bit more) and I never learn that the grass really isn't greener (my grass is pretty green)**

Looking back it was all pretty good actually. I do love a bit of hindsight. I should have paid more attention.

But anyway, turning thirty was ACE! So ace it's ok to use the word "ace". I'm so cool. It's because I'm over thirty. Cool doesn't just happen to you, after thirty, you become it. Fact.

So I did a little "life review", it got mushy. I did a lot of celebrating, it got messy. I did a lot of planning for growing up, it got, uh, waylaid.

But from that point on, basically everything felt ok. Everything was going to be ok. Everything was a-ok. I chilled out a bit more about stuff, stopped being so stress-heady and got a bit more settled. Felt more comfortable about who I was, what I did and with whom I did it. We sold our flat and bought a grown up house, I started saying "no" a bit more, I stopped whinging about everything I didn't have/own/look like and realised it's not really that important anyway (Chanel handbag, anyone?), started appreciating what I do have and my FOMO started to dissipate. It's like my birthday and new year all merged in to one and I made life resolutions, not just new year resolutions.

Group phone chat with our buddies in Oz

30 was the new 21 in my mind. There's so much build up to 21 but really, like new year's eve, there's no big deal after all the fuss. 30 was where it was at. Apart from the car insurance reduction (nowadays not so much though - sorry younguns), 21 was merely symbolic. 18 contains the only actual life defining moment - legal adulthood.  Drinking without lies. That's what 18 is, really.  

So if 30 was the new 21 - symbolic - it was all about the party, the life story, the thank yous and the "Oscar" speech.  The “So far…” list, and the future plans. Excellent.

What does that make 31?

31 is the realisation that you're a proper adult now.

OLD.

Grown up.

A grooooown up.

But it was actually pretty good.





It’s been ten years since my 21st birthday. What was I doing ten years ago? I was working on my internship year and trying not to think about returning to university for my final year (I hated uni). I was avoiding responsibility at all costs. My biggest, most stressful decisions involved Miss Sixty jeans or Guess jeans with my birthday money, I was celebrating my 21st birthday in Paris (in a way more civilised manner than I celebrated my 31st let me tell you!), and drinking Apple Sourz at least four nights a week. I was planning holidays, parties and experiences with my friends and family. I was having fun being single having come out of a rather unpleasant five year relationship...

I was meeting ensnaring my future husband and making plans to explore our the world together, one luxury hotel at a time...



Birthday outfit



Although my birth and wedding certificates say that I’m a proper grown up now, you can forgive me for not really feeling it. When you describe my life ten years ago it like that, it's really not that different!

 

So, back to the present, what did I get up to on my 31st birthday weekend? Well, with a busy year full of big expenditure ahead, I planned very little. Unlike the last ten years. I didn't feel the need or the want. I just wanted to go with the flow.



Birthday bellini at lunch



Oh good lord – did you hear that? "Go. With. The. Flow"

 

You see... I really did change. I like it. 



Anyway, I purchased cocktail ingredients, reserved a table, planned the top half of an outfit (with the bottom half rushed together in the hours before going out) and booked a taxi. That was it. It felt good.

Pre-birthday celebrations on Friday included cake for breakfast at my desk, some birthday bellinis and bresaola salad with one of my besties (all the Bs) and then back at the office: champagne, chocolates and a cheese buffet with my colleagues (all the Cs). Followed by haggis, neeps and tatties, cranachan  (made by moi - check me out all grown up and making stuff for guests!) and whisky-based cocktails with some friends to celebrate Burns Night and a long distance group catch up with some buddies Down Under, oh, and lots of cocktails!

All very grown up and (mostly) civilised.



Presents in bed!

Then, B-day hit on Saturday which involved presents and cards in bed, a mild-hangover brunch, a full body and scalp massage, my girls coming over for some pre-party bubbly then in to town for drinks and dancing… and ended the day crashing in to bed in full make up. Not grown up, nor civilised.

Sunday we spent the morning recovering, sending apology texts, laughing at some utterly disgusting and hideous, but equally hilarious photos, wallowing on the sofa and eating left over cold sausages straight from the fridge. We then made ourselves look presentable (ish) and headed to my parents' for tea and lemon drizzle cake, more pressies, a game of Trivial Pursuit: Bet You Know It (a birthday gift) jammy lamb and sticky toffee pud (my Birthday Dinner 2013 choice) and mini birthday cakes, before chilling on the sofa and watching Call the Midwife. 

Big fat birthday win!!!

Trivial Pursuit: Bet You Know It!

Nativity nightmares

I was Mary.

I didn't want to be Mary.

I didn't want to be Mary because everyone kept teasing me about Mary's Husband Joseph: "ha ha ha, you've been making babies with XXX XXX (boy that played Mary's Husband Joseph) behind the Clown Wall*"

Gah!

Children are stoooopid because, had they been accurate with their teasing, it should have been "ha ha ha, you've been making babies with the Lord Creator, God Almighty, behind the Clown Wall" – I still wouldn't have been happy, but it would have been a hell of a lot less yucky. Bleurgh.

Anyway, I digress. I wasn't happy about being Mary because I wanted to be The Angel Gabriel.

Fulfilling a long-standing dream to be the Angel Gabriel

My friend Lucy got to be The Angel Gabriel.

The Angel Gabriel had a whole gaggle (chorus? what is the collective noun for seraphim?) of angels, of which she was the leader, that stood around her (i.e. hiding her from view). She got to stand in the gallery, upstairs at the back of the church, where the bell ringers normally hang out, and only had to stand there, in a white robe (a.k.a. a bed sheet with a hole in the middle) and a tinsel halo, hold her arms aloft and be "radiant".

I wanted to do that.

I didn't want to walk with The Donkey ("Little donkey, little donkey, on the dusty roooooooad"), and the Yucky Boy down the road to Bethlehem (a.k.a. the aisle, the aisle which, incidentally, I walked down on my wedding day) or knock on The Inn Door ("get lost, there's no room"), or cradle the Son of God (Tiny Tears) before placing him (actually a her - I checked) gently (dangling by the ankle) in to The Manger (a cradle from the reception class filled with straw from George the Guinea Pig's bedding stash) and welcoming the Three Kings (one in a taxi, one in a car, one on a scooter, beeping his hooter) with their gifts or the Shepherd (washing his socks by night) and his cuddly sheep toy.

I wanted to Shine Resplendent from the gallery at the opportune moment and then disappear again, away from the eyes of the audience.

So, I thought, I'll show them, they'll never make me Mary, Mother of God, again. When the time came for The Angel Gabriel to Shine Resplendent I marched down the aisle, sorry, Dusty Road, and fully hammed up my "arrrgh, the light blinds me" acting.

The direction I received was "shield your eyes from the aura beaming from God's messenger, be over-awed by the glowing light". Instead I adopted the pose of a person in the unhappy event of seeing a nuclear bomb drop: my torso surged backwards by the blast and my arms flung in front of my face to protect my retinas from being burned by the searing white light, my mouth prised open by the silent cry of "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH".

My mother, seated half way down the aisle, thoroughly unimpressed by my usual over-acting muttered from the side of her mouth: "not that over-awed Victoria"...

At that I stomped back to my stool, mouthed my way through "The Virgin Mary Had a Baby Boy" and "We Saw Three Ships" and snarled at the recorder players in the front pew. I wish I'd learned to play the recorder.

I never played Mary again.

Or The Angel Gabriel.

Funny that.

Angel with a bag bomb...

*a random concrete monstrosity in the playground against which we played may violent games of dodge ball, around which we played Blind-dah-Date, and upon which we were safe from being Tagged or Caught in games of KCT (Kiss, Cuddle Or Torture for those not in the know)

Turning thirty

So I mentioned that I have a birthday coming up. A big one. 

Tomorrow I turn thirty.

Yay me!

And then I thought no, not yay me, but oh my I turn thirty in a matter of hours and I have so much left to do before then…

And I’m not talking about party admin or outfit planning, I’m talking about life!

I have so much more to do with my life before I turn thirty… I started to panic about the fact that I don’t have a bucket list.

I never learned Japanese – is there time? Can I do that overnight with one of those audio CDs?

I haven’t bungee jumped – and now never will, after that unfortunate incident with the crocs.

I haven’t run the marathon – thank god – it sounds and looks like hell!

I haven’t started my own business – I just haven’t had the time… but who does?

I haven’t seen the Northern Lights – if I spend a fortune flying there, who can guarantee I’ll see them?

I haven’t… erm…

Oh!

Well, I thought about it and there aren’t really any proper goals I set out to achieve before turning 30, just two pretty standard ones.

The first was to visit every inhabited continent. I achieved that in March. Go me.

The second, was to earn a six figure salary. Well, I set that goal in my first year of sixth form. I then interned in the marketing department at an automotive OEM in my third year of university and realised that it was an entirely unrealistic goal with my chosen career path, and one that would leave me sorely disappointed. I revised that goal to read “I shall double my starting salary (i.e. the salary from my first full time job after leaving uni) by the time I reach 30”. And again, I scraped in by the skin of my teeth this year. Also, go me!

I cut it fine with both of them. But so what. I set a goal and a time limit and I did it.

If I’m honest, I could have achieved them long ago had I made different choices over the past ten years. Had I taken a year out to go travelling, had I stayed in financial services, or been a bit more ambitious cut-throat about my career decisions.

But I didn’t and I wasn’t.

I made those decisions and I look back and I’m comfortable with everything I did. In hindsight would I have changed anything? Errrrrrrrrrrm….

Nope.

And do you know why?

Because I wasn’t living my life on the basis of a list of things I wrote down and ticking them off. I’m normally a list maker – party planning, holiday packing, outfit construction, new year resolutions. But I made those two goals as a loose life plan (i.e. see the world and earn enough money, to do so in some level of comfort) and until a few months ago I hadn’t really given them much thought – they kind of just happened.

Now I’m questioning myself. Why didn’t I bother with a bucket list? Should I have been a bit more organised about my life plan?

I suppose I don’t have a bucket list because, despite planning everything else IN my life to the letter, I left the direction of my life in general, to take its own course. I think I’ve just always been satisfied, no, actually, I think the word is happy, with who I am, where I’m going, why I’m going there and with whom I am travelling! If I want to do/buy/have/experience something, I just get on with it and do it, or at least attempt to. If I don’t want to do it, there’s usually some reason why and I move on.  If I can’t do it, I may have a little tantrum and then get over it and on with something else. I didn’t say “I want to be married before I’m thirty” I said “I feel like we’re ready to get married – let’s get the hell on with it”. Yes I set him a deadline, yes I planned that wedding. To. The. Letter.  But it wasn’t because it was on a list. It was because I just wanted to do it. I haven’t ticked a load of items off a list because I don’t feel like I’ve needed to. Obviously I have down days where I covet someone else’s life/belongings/bank balance (you know, like a Chanel handbag or something), but essentially, I’m happy floating (and sometimes plodding) along in Victoria World!

I’ve seen a lot of the (actual) world, and I will spend the rest of my life exploring more of it.

I own a lovely home and we’re about to buy a new one.

I have a good job in a great company.

I am surrounded by wonderful people – my husband, my family, my friends…

I drive a nice car, I have a pretty cool wardrobe, I had an amazeballs wedding, I have a great collection of shoes, we own more DVDs that your average Blockbuster. I’ve eaten high quality caviar and drunk f**k off expensive champagne. I’ve watched the sun set over seven continents and stayed up to watch it rise more times than I can count (in the usual places like an Ibizan beach and the more unusual like a hill in Sheffield). I’ve had a “lock in” with the Beefeaters at the Tower of London, partied with celebrities and been “papped” leaving a London club (they wanted the celeb – not me!). I’ve danced my heart out under the open sky in the rain and the sun. I’ve been proposed to in a snow-drifted Central Park. I’ve spoken to my friends as they felt their contractions and held a baby that’s only hours old. I’ve saved an almost-drowning child (when I was only a child myself) and I’ve stepped in to fights I’ve seen on the streets (and on a train) to protect those less able to protect themselves. I’ve been swimming with dolphins, hyperventilated whilst scuba diving and discovered a talent for windsurfing. I’ve eaten an oyster and hated it. I’ve eaten foie gras and (sorry) I liked it. I’ve donated blood and been very close to donating my bone marrow. I’ve been a bridesmaid three times, and still managed to be a bride. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve had it fixed. I’ve been to the biggest party on Earth, and survived! I’ve been disappointed, I’ve been proud and I’ve been humbled. I’ve chosen not to dabble with Ouija boards, but have tried my luck with tarot. I’ve always been honest, and it’s often gotten me in to trouble. I learned to dance professionally, just for fun. I’ve swum a mile for the sake of a badge. I’ve turned up to the wrong exam, having done no prep, and managed to ace it, with a borrowed book and an hour of cramming on the floor in the corridor. I’ve bunked off school, I got a tattoo and (whilst plucking up the courage) got my belly button and ears pierced an unnecessary number of times! I’ve embarrassed myself more times than I care to remember.  I got drunk when I was far too young to understand what my hangover was from stolen dregs as a grown up party. I’ve learned a new language, and I’ve never used it. I’ve flunked a subject at uni (bringing my average down so I didn’t get the First I was predicted) so I could see Girls Aloud mime on a stage in Great Yarmouth. I’ve been in very serious trouble and learned from my mistake. I’ve fallen asleep under the stars, and in a toilet cubicle. I’ve partied all night, showered and gone straight to work. I’ve partied all night and I’ve slept so long that I’ve missed almost a whole weekend. I’ve never touched a cigarette nor an illegal drug, but I have broken in to the medicine cabinet, worked out the child lock and eaten a while bottle of Hariborange. I’ve fallen off a (very big) horse, and gotten straight back on. I’ve worked for some of the most well-known companies in the world, and I’ve worked as a shot girl in the grottiest clubs you’ll ever see. I have seen a dead body and I was strong. I have thrown a coin in the Trevi fountain and I will one day return.

What haven’t I done?

Looooooooooads.

What do I want to do?

Looooooooooads.

But I don’t need a list.

So I'll see you on the other side… It’s all downhill  still uphill to 40, or so I’ve heard!

Looking back, and forward (Part 1)

As I mentioned in my little post about Time, I had a LOT going on in 2011. Back on NYE 2010/11 I went through my iPhone diary and every month had something so exciting to look forward to, and I do love a little Year in Review on New Year’s Eve. So here you go…

 

2011 in brief

• I had some exciting guest post opportunities with some lovely wedding and lifestyle blogs. I was rather proud of myself. I only hope I get to do more and more as time goes on! Check out my self promotion here

I was rather pleased with some of my summer outfits and winter ones

I did some serious stamp collecting in my passport. A trip to Rio for carnival kicked off the year, completing my goal of visiting every continent before turning 30, followed by a grand tour of Europe over the rest of the year with trips to Paris, Lake Como, Budapest, Istanbul, Athens and Santorini, not forgetting some trips in the UK with weekend breaks to Bath, the Cotswolds and Knebworth.

An abundance of special birthdays - 18ths, 21sts, 30ths, 60ths... and there are more to come. Hooray!

January (a particularly Australian-themed month)

 

•  My birthday! Australia gets particularly excited about it and gives the whole country the day off on the anniversary of my birth…
• Also about eight other birthdays, so this was a month full of parties. One particular birthday was my baby sister-in-law turning 18. Special indeed!
• Oh, and Katie Jane popped in, from Australia, to celebrate Lucy’s big day
• Our family friends also popped in, again from Australia, so we could meet their baby boy Oscar. He’s too cute!

February (some detox downtime)

• Engagement parties and Valentine's Day. Love is truly in the air!

March (the biggest party on Earth)

• Carnival in RIO baby! IT.ROCKED.MY.WORLD (but broke my body)
• Murder mystery birthday parties (themed on a wedding...heaven)
• A gorgeous baby girl got christened.
• Essex Fashion Week - totally chavtastic but I loved it! My first taste of the TOWIE world!

April (more party time)

• Easter - celebrating Jesus' the ever living with chocolate and lay ins! Go organised religion.
• A zillion bank holidays and birthdays (just like lambing season!)
• THE ROYAL WEDDING!!!! www.mademyyear.com. We had a big old party at my parents’… afternoon tea, vintage china, big hats, flags and bunting. So much fun!

May (getting started)

• Family wine tasting at Vinopolis
• More bank holidays
• And more special birthday parties
• One of my besties came home from travelling. Yayness
• I started my blog. My very own little blog. A lovely little project that, so far, I’m rather chuffed with.

June (my tour of Europe commences)

• Trashing the Dress/Rocking the Frock/Getting Down in the Gown in London Town (check it out here) Thank you Jasmine Jade Photography!
• The Mother Ship turned 60 and en masse the Hale-Griffith-Harveys whizzed off to Paris pour le Weekend. Mais oui mais oui. Ladauree Macaroon anyone?
• A gorgeous London hen day with afternoon tea, treasure hunts, rooftop champagne and bistro dinner. Lovely. I dedicated this post to the very special Bride.

July (wedding season starts)

• Take That made a million girls/mums/grans cry. But I was not one of them.
• A wedding in the Cotswolds, however, made me sob buckets. For days! A great day Liz and Tom. I heart your style.
• The Duke of Essex Polo – I got my fake tan and legs out to re-acquaint myself with the TOWIE crew. (I was also secretly hoping some MIC crew would slum it and show up so I could meet them too, and so I overcame my aversion and fell in love with TOWIE's reality/unreality TV competitor)
• I said some emotional goodbyes to Harry, Hermione and Ron. Totes emosh.
• But most importantly, this month - Blue Baby Sones arrived (aka Luke Thomas Sones). He's my god daughter's Baby Bro, my bestie's second child, he was much awaited and longed-for. He's such a little dude! (also, he almost shares a birthday with Ollie, my other little mate - good timing Kim and Caroline!)

August (even more party time)

• No carbs before Como - the Matthanach Nuptials. A gorgeous weekend in the Italian lakes with great food, great friends and great scenery. Great Times. Except for the Limoncello. That was less great...
• The Hale-Davis clan take over Knebworth for Robert and Em's wedding. More great times (aside from the riots causing a disappointing lack of sleep). Also the last of my wedding outfits went on show!
• Chelmsford chucks a massive party - V Fest. Named after me! Fanks. This year however, we didn’t bother attending. All of a sudden I felt too old.
• Lots of east London Goodtimes for more birthdays and another bestie flew home from travelling. Girls re-united. So happy!

September (more stamp collecting)

• The Hale-Griffith-Harvey tribe made like the Romans and invaded Istanbul, Athens and Santorini (may require fact checking with Baby Bro). A fortnight full of antiquities, cocktails, sunshine, amazing sunsets and my family (minus a few faces that had to stay home)
• 24 months since the joining of me and the mister... we're doing well! 
• Kim turned 30 – we celebrated in style, with LOTS of cake!

October (crazy-good weather)

• Fancy dress central with more 30th birthdays, a 21^st birthday and a Bug-tastic hen do in Bath
• AUTUMN TELLY SCHEDULE! Staying in is the new going out, although, the weather was so lovely there was lots of going out as well.

November (or should I say Mo-vember)

• More afternoon tea with the girls, a bit of Burlesque at Proud Cabaret with my work girlies (amonst other nights out) and some grown up, coupley dinners and speakeasy cocktails.
• Mr G grew a Mo for Movember. hmmmmm
• And then let the X Factor/Strictly live show parties/pyjama nights in begin...

December (let the festivities begin)

• A reunion with the Como Chicas got me thinking about holidays again...
• ...so it was lucky I had a foggy, but festive trip to Budapest with the girls planned.
• Of course there was the usual Christmas countdown and Christmas celebrations (during which I received some outstandingly lovely gifts)
• Mr G and I get to spend our first NYE together for years
• Planning began for mine and Lucy’s 30th BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!

And so what does 2012 have in store?

• The 30^th birthday party year continues – including my own celebration and Mr G’s.
• The Mr and I will move house. We will we will we will.
• A two week road trip on the west coast of the USA is almost finalised. Schweeeeeeeet!
• Four weddings, and counting, in some fabulous places – Ireland, Blenheim Palace and a some great memories will be re-lived as I return to the setting of mine and Kim’s big days. Fingers crossed for no funerals.
• The Diamond Jubilee – cause for a party and some red white and blue theming?
• The Olympics – well, it’d be rude not to re-use all the red, white and blue flags and bunting…
• I’m hoping for another girlie weekend break and possibly a weekend away with the Mr after a hard summer of Olympic overtime.
• 
  
  More special cocktails with special people!

And then who knows… watch this space!

Happy New Year everyone, I hope you enjoyed 2011 as much as I did and that you also have some wonderful things to look forward to over the coming months.

Wishing you all health, wealth and happiness for 2012

xoxo