boarding and bored...

Well, I am so chuffed with myself for being able to post pictures - how sad is that?!! Sometimes i am such a luddite, completely useless with computers, although it doesn’t help that I have a habit of sharing my tea with them. (My school laptop consumes more cups of tea than I do – I’m so clumsy that I’ve started to have to lie to the IT guy at work and say that i think my computer’s developed a fault rather than admit that i’m constantly batting raspberry and cranberry herbal tea all over the keyboard.)
I’ve not managed to work out though if the video clips I’ve posted actually work though. I can get them to work on my mum’s laptop which is where the clips came from but i’ve not yet worked out the mystical finer details of managing to play them from any other computer so let me know if I’ve managed it – probably accidentally posted them on someone else’s blog and now there’ll be some poor political journalist or bemused cookery expert wondering why there’s a drunken woman in a pink dress singing Abba’s greatest hits in the middle of their posting.

Anyway, I’m currently skiving at work. I’m meant to be preparing a staff meeting on the progression through children’s understanding of division (yes, i retain my rock and roll crown!) but I’m rather lacking in both motivation and inspiration so I thought I’d take a little break and post instead.

I’m also shattered as Tom got up for a meeting in London at 5am this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep again as I was having some weird dream about being naked on a pair of scales that had wheels on being dragged through a shopping centre – very odd. I am also sporting a rather interesting new look that resembles a cross between an extra from the “Donald where’s your troosers” video from a few years back and posh spice. It’s an unusual combo of fitted grey tartan pencil dress with purple stilletoes and purple opaque tights. At 5am with very little sleep it seemed like a good idea; in the cold strip light of my office I am beginning to rethink my early morning confidence. (I think it’s the huge ruffle down the front of the dress and the patent mini belt that go with it that has tipped it over the edge into the realms of fashion madness.) Tom likes it though so I guess that’s all that matters.
He’s been a complete diamond again all weekend. He paid for me and my best friend to go for afternoon champagne tea at a stately home near us on Saturday so we spent the afternoon quaffing strawberry infused champagne and almost bursting from eating so many cakes. I was one éclair away from casualty.
We followed my high tea with an odd little evening but a fab one nevertheless. Tom retained his title of “campest boyfriend ever” by suggesting we stay in, drink Veuve and watch “Dancing on ice”. However, my brother had a much better idea which meant I found myself, at half 9 on Saturday night, in the middle of Nottingham ice rink skating (badly) to Basshunter’s greatest hits with all of Nottingham’s finest teenage chavs! It was an odd change of scene from cake stands and waiters to slush puppies and sweaty hired boots. We had a great time and I actually managed to work out how to go backwards (not bad after a bottle of champagne at lunchtime). Tom looked like a cross between Frank Spencer and Bambi as he had decided that in order to skate quickly you needed to do a sort of running action. Error!
My brother was really good at it and ended up doing all sorts of spins and things but his fiancée fell over and ended up grabbing some poor unsuspecting 15 year old chav’s bum to try and steady herself. There is nothing more uncool for a bleached, spiky haired, baggy jeaned, ear-ringed king chav to have a demented and out of control 30 something woman on ice skates drag him over onto the ice in front of all of his mates and then to have me skate up half cut and attempt to pick them both up but end up body slamming them both until we have to be rescued by the marshalls. Tom would have rescued me but he had had an unfortunate collision with the rink sides after attempting one of my brother’s turns. He says his groin may never recover.
On Sunday we went snowboarding again. I lost my confidence last time we went as a very portly teenage girl decided to use me as a crash barrier and she dented my bottle as well as my body. It was awful last time actually – I had my first full blown panic attack in ages but Tom was utterly delightful and was so kind and nice that I ended up bawling even more just because he was being so kind. This Sunday was excellent though. Tom just boarded whilst I repeated the final lesson. The instructor was lovely and could see I was really nervous so told me he would batter anyone and kick them off the slope if they hit me and Tom kind of hung around in the background waving from time to time so my confidence flooded back. I found myself boarding right from the top of the main slope and doing loads of turns so, with Tom and the instructor’s help, I found my snowboarding mojo that the teenage girl had squished last time. Tom and I ended up boarding together for hours which is something we really regretted last night as now neither of us can move after our “Winter Olympics training - skating and boarding boot camp” that we’ve been on. I must say though ladies, if you ever go snowboarding, do not arrange to go anywhere afterwards, a sweaty hired helmet is never conducive to a glamorously coiffeured barnet and I looked like I had had my hair cut by the council parks department. Icy temperatures, headgear that clamps your hair down and your jaw together and a chin strap that makes you look like a hamster – why on earth does Tom fancy me?!!
We haven’t got any plans for this weekend at the moment thank goodness – I reckon I’d be exhausted if we had. I’m actually looking forward to a weekend of putting my feet up and doing nothing. Not only did I go boarding, skating and high tea-ing this weekend but I also managed to fit in dinner at my parents’ with Tom, loads of schoolwork and getting my house ready again for another viewing. It’s no wonder I feel wrung out like a wet rag sometimes!
Anyway, I’d better go and get some work done now so I’ll sign off for the moment. Thanks again for keeping in touch.

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P.S Does anyone else’s mother think that the way to impress a new boyfriend is to heap his plate with a tonne of sauerkraut, force feed him Estonian liquors and then get drunk and start placing bets on the price of things on the antiques roadshow or is it just mine?