Back in the house

Time to get back to home improvement!

Geth and I have had a nice Easter break visiting the in-laws in Lancashire.  We’re now back home and ready for another visit from my parents, who will be arriving tomorrow to help with putting up shelves and taking the messy remains of my bloody wardrobe cull to the dump/charity shop.  Exciting!

Easter!

Happy Easter!  I’ve had a great day, and am now in possession of so much chocolate that I’ll be eating it for weeks (got to eke out those Syns carefully).  I’ve also had some lovely ciders this weekend, so there’ll be a couple more cider posts in the next couple of days!

Spring?

I did parkrun this morning, for the first time in a couple of months.  Between the move and the weather, I’ve just not been feeling like running at all since late January, so it was nice to get back to it.  Lovely day too, and it was perfect running conditions.

I’m hoping that we’ve seen the end of the bad winter weather now, though there are a lot of ominous rumours about a white Easter next weekend.  I sincerely hope it’s not, as Geth and I are visiting the in-laws and the last thing we need is Christmas-style travel disruption.

With the clocks going forward tonight, it would be nice if it could just be spring weather from now on.  Fingers crossed!

Groundhog Day

So, I was all set for the world’s worst timed tattoo appointment!  I had plenty of water to drink and some chocolate to make sure my blood sugar levels were good.  I got all my stuff done (housework, work emails, TV catchup, watching the Groundhog Day live feed from Punxutawney – six more weeks of winter, apparently, though I’m not 100% sure how accurate these predictions are for Punxutawney, let alone the rest of the Northern Hemisphere).  I had my idea for the tattoo addition all ready in my head, and then I paced up and down for the last twenty minutes before I had to leave the house, and then I bumped into Geth on the way out to the tattoo parlour and was able to catch up about his morning at work for a minute, and then I went to the cash machine and got cash out to pay for the tattoo.

And then I went to the tattoo parlour, and my tattooist realised she’d put the wrong date on my appointment slip.  It’s actually next Tuesday.

At least I was able to start Non-Dry February a few hours earlier than planned.  New cider posts coming soon!

Burns Night

It’s Burns Night…and I’m not eating haggis.  I know, I’m a bad Scot.  But getting the stuff in England tends to be a right faff, which means acquiring a Burns Supper has become a lot more ‘interesting’ since I moved away from Scotland in 2011.

A brief history of my Burns Supper eating:

  • 1985-2002: Burns Supper at home, cooked by parents, complete with horrible off-key chanter playing by my dad (who is a good musician but not a regular chanter player) as we ‘piped in the haggis’ and people reading the Selkirk Grace off a teatowel
  • 2002-2011: as above, except that I no longer lived at home so went round to my parents’ specially; my dad had given up on the chanter playing by this point as well
  • 2012: our first Burns Night living in Southampton – Geth bought extortionately-priced veggie haggis from a butcher and made a decent if not entirely presentable job of cooking it, but I felt SO HOMESICK
  • 2013: went to eat at a cafe in Southampton where they were serving ‘haggis’ made out of tomatoes and had people onstage reciting really patronising attempts at ‘Scots’ poetry – had to leave before table flipping occurred
  • 2014: still in Southampton; had friends round for Burns Supper, which was slightly ruined by Geth buying the wrong veg due to English supermarkets’ insistence on calling neeps by the wrong name (they call it ‘swede’ instead of ‘turnip’ for some reason, so he ended up getting something completely different that did not mash well at all)
  • 2015: we were preparing for a stressful move from Southampton to Newcastle, so Burns Night, along with various other late winter celebrations like Valentine’s Day and Shrove Tuesday, fell by the wayside that year
  • 2016-2017: took advantage of only living a 90-minute train journey away from Edinburgh to go land on my parents for Burns Night again, just like old times
  • 2018: did vaguely plan to go up to Edinburgh…but house moving has struck again, and we’ve been too busy/tired to get organised

Dry January also means no toasts with whisky or Thistly Cross cider.  I couldn’t even find any Diet Irn-Bru at the supermarket today.  Living in England strikes again.

To make up for the lack of the haggis picture that would obviously accompany this post had I cooked any, have a link to Tam O’Shanter, my all-time favourite Burns poem.

Thirty-three

It’s my thirty-third birthday today.  I have celebrated reaching matching digits again (only happens once every eleven years!) with birthday cheesecake, prosecco, filthy Dominos takeaway and a resolve not to care what the scales say at Slimming World weigh-in tomorrow (back on plan from tomorrow afternoon!).