I’m sitting in my garden typing this. The birds are chirping away, the sun is shining and I’m about as chilled as some of the people I saw in Amsterdam. Without any herbal help.

However. If you had seen me yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that, you would have wondered if I should perhaps be locked away in a room. On my own. For your safety.

I’m talking PMT people.

Not the “oh my wife has PMT, I better offer her chocolate” kind of PMT (although, for future reference husband of mine, that will always be welcome) but the kind where I start to question my own sanity. If you’re female, you know what I’m talking about. That red mist that descends for no actual reason. Someone could cut you up in a car park, or they could cough quietly behind you in a queue and you are literally squeezing your fists together in case you punch them. Some bloke had the audacity to drive out of the entrance to the car park yesterday. It bugged me for FOUR HOURS.

I mean, that’s not normal is it!

And don’t even get me started on the people that live with me. I am positive that they actively try to irritate me during bitch week. Rubbish left laying around, clothes on the floor, wanting me to feed them, talking to me and expecting a coherent reply which means I have to pretend to listen and make sure my sighs are silent. It’s relentless.

swears

I think it’s got worse the older I’ve got. I’m not on the pill anymore (because that made me mental for the whole month, not just one week of it, so kind of defeated the object of being birth control as the bloke didn’t want to be anywhere near me…) so when my hormone levels drop, they drop big time.

Apparently, there are two types of PMT. One where you’re sad and weepy and one where you’re irritable and bloated. Hands up if you can guess which one I have….

This morning I felt normal again, and it’s once I’m feeling me again that I can see just how batshit crazy I was the day before. After an inward cringe and a general apology to, well, anyone who came into contact with me that I need to speak to again, I decided it was time to tackle this bastard.

Hello Google.

So, Agnus Castus (not Angus Cactus if you’re interested, don’t ask for that) lets see if you’re all you claim to be. 3 months of these little pills and I should be magically cured of all PMT ails.
Or, alternatively, I may be looking for a little box room to move into for one week each month, because I quite like my marriage so it would be fun to keep it, ya know?

 

 

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Yeah. That’s an attention seeking title huh?

I am, at this moment in time, classed as a kept woman. I know, how 21st century of me. My husband (the bloke) goes out to work every weekday, and I stay at home doing homely things, like looking after our kids, keeping the house tidy(ish) and tapping away on my little piece of the internet. I had to fill in a form the other week and needed to tick a box that said I was ‘supported’ by the man of the house. How rude, I reckon we support each other thanks and shit.

I don’t have an actual job no. I’m not studying anymore & I don’t plan to go to uni next year either. So what exactly am I doing with my time? Why haven’t I found a job yet? How can I be satisfied as a kept woman not earning her own money? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN? DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND FEMINISM??

I hear ya.

But you know what? I’m ignoring you. Because, right now, this works for us. Ok, I’m not bringing in hundreds or thousands of pounds each month, but I’m also not spending it on childcare either. I’m here when the kids get in, I’ll be here in the half term and the summer holidays instead of paying someone to be there for them, and, here’s the best bit, I get to lay in with them for 6 whole weeks. So, up yours.

Not really.
Well, a little bit up yours.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t plan to do this forever, I would be SO bored after a while. But I do have things to do during the day, and believe it or not, this blog does actually keep me busy AND provides a teeny tiny bit of money occasionally, so if I’m happy, the bloke is happy and the kids are happy (well, the teenager isn’t always happy but that’s another story) then, in the nicest sense, what the f*ck has it got to do with you? This is what works for us, and we’re going to carry on doing it for as long as we like.

I am lucky that the bloke is able to ‘support’ me & also gets that I don’t want to farm our kids off somewhere so I earn just enough to pay for childcare. But he’s also lucky because he can flit around and do all his work stuff without even a second glance at the calendar or kid activities because I’m here. Plus, hello? Have you seen his wife? Hot as…..

It’s a win win situation.

Life isn’t about ticking boxes and fitting into the norm. It’s about making memories and being happy. However that happens. We have chances to make memories every day, like watching my sons face as the plane took off on his first ever flight, or seeing my teenager dancing in the kitchen when she thinks I’m not watching (then hitting me when she realises I am and oh how we laugh…) seeing the bloke look at me like I’m the only woman in the world while we sneak a weekend away together.

They are the moments that count. Living a life to create memories, find adventure, take risks and be happy, that’s what it’s all about.

If you don’t agree with me, then you’re wrong. Soz and that.

Peace out.

London

 

 

 

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travel essentials charger

I’m writing this post because, you know, seasoned traveller and all that.

This year we’ve made a serious effort to travel as much as we can. We’ve already been to Amsterdam, we have a trip next week to Switzerland, and Spain is booked for August. There are a few other little ideas in the pipeline, but I don’t want to jinx them yet!

So, naturally, my expertise on the essentials for hand luggage is through the roof. *cough*.

Amsterdam was my first flight, with kids, without kids. If that makes sense. So I got to pack everything I wanted to take and it was all about me bitches!! Usually, it’s a case of squishing as much in there that can entertain the kids and who needs that make up bag really.

I really wish I had bigger hand luggage to be honest. Like long haul style. But when flying with Easy Jet I’m stuffed if I’m going to pay for my case so I can take a giant handbag. Nuh huh. Ya know, in an ideal world I’d have all my little essentials lined up, ready to use before, during and after the flight. But in reality, looking out of the window and playing Candy Crush usually wins.

So anyway, these are my essential items.

Diary & Pen. Naturally, I am in charge of all schedules and dates. No one else in my house is aware of who is doing what on what day, because, that’s clearly my job (!?) so my little paperchase mate comes everywhere with me. Yes, I have an iPhone, and yes, we share calendars on there but it still doesn’t beat writing things down.

Carmex LipBalm. Only one I use. A friend in college got me hooked last year when my lips were practically falling off my face with stress, so now I have one in each handbag, the car, the living room and my bedroom. Just in case.

Coin Purse. Ain’t nobody got time to be mixing up Euros and pounds. No siree. Anything foreign goes in this little cutie from Accessorize.

Passport. Natch. And usually times four, being the responsible adult that I am. Also, throw in boarding passes and other paper crap. But for the purposes of this blog post, we wanted the pictures to look good.

SAMSUNG CSC

Portable Charger. Now, until I get to have words with the people of Apple about the absolute stupidness of their battery lives, a portable charger is pretty much *the* most essential piece of equipment when leaving the house to go anywhere. Once you’ve text everyone that you’re on your way, Snapchatted & Instagrammed a few pics, checked Facebook and answered emails, you’re looking at around 49%. Throw in some Candycrush cos you’re delayed and then that’s it. Game over. When you have small people who seem to breathe via their iPads, this is a disaster. When you’re an adult addicted to your phone, it’s a disaster. This gorgeous, sexy, gold lips portable charger from QVC is my new BFF. Just look at it!? Who doesn’t want their charger to look like that? Exactly.

Face Mist. Caudalie. French. Love it. Nuff said. Also, 7 year old quite likes a spray now and then, to freshen him up you know?

Mini Hand Cream. Dry skin/hands are a no no. Travel size, UVB in case there’s actual sunshine. Boosh.

Sunglasses. My botox has worn off, I frown a lot, need I say more?

Travel Guide. Oooh I love me a travel guide. Even if I know (or the bloke knows) where we’re going, there’s always something hidden that you wouldn’t have otherwise seen. This Amsterdam one from Insight Guides (WH Smiths FYI) was brilliant.

SAMSUNG CSC

And that’s it. Oh, maybe some headphones which will just get a free trip because I never get to use them when the kids are around, some headache tablets because, again, kids. Mints & water. Now, when we fly to Switzerland next week I need to get all of that in my case and make it easy to access because I can only take one piece of luggage on the flight. That’ll be interesting.

 

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T2a

I am the ultimate party animal, every night, right before bed, without fail, you will find me with a hot cup of decaf tea in my hand. Oh yes, I am *that* rock and roll. I swear it helps me sleep, whether it’s all in the mind, or whether the lovely milky warmness helps me on my way to the land of nod I’ll never know, but anything that helps me sleep through the night is a keeper in my eyes.

Because, you know, beauty sleep and all that.

I’m also often found sitting at my mac, typing away with a hot beverage or another for most of the day. My diet coke break usually kicks in around 5pm, up til then it’s tea, coffee or water. I know, it’s too much fun.

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T2, an international tea retail brand sent me the most exquisite tea cup and saucer with some very fancy French Earl Grey loose tea, they must have heard how much I love the British tradition. Established 20 years ago in Oz, T2 is a tea specialist with a contemporary edge and top quality. They sold enough tea in 2015 to make over 186 million cups of tea.

All the sleeps!

There are so many different teas available, I have to admit I’m a bit of a wimp when it comes to trying something different, I’m a proper builders tea girl. I would love to love the herbals and flavoured teas but they always leave me disappointed. However, after a browse round the T2 store in Bluewater the other day, I am seriously temped by their Citrus Punch loose tea. They also have one named Turkish Apple, which I always get bought back for me from Turkey (surprisingly) when my parents visit. So, any excuse to visit Bluewater…. They also have a selection that are suitable to be served cold, so when we get some actual summer, that will be nice!

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In the meantime, and probably forever more because I’m an old granny secretly, I will be continuing to have my cuppa before bed, only now I’ll be doing it in a sexy cup and saucer set that could almost have me believing I’m drinking it in my boudoir in Paris. Well, bedtime is all about dreaming is it not?

PR Sample.

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If you read part one the other day (thanks for reading and stuff!) then, tah dah! Here is part 2!

Friday was another day of walking and sightseeing. We went to the flower market and grabbed some black tulips, and discussed the possibility of Kate moving to Amsterdam and opening a flower shop herself. We then quashed that discussion pretty quickly, cos, well, real life.

flowers

We wandered and wandered and wandered. Top tip? Don’t wear trainers in 30 degrees heat when you’re going to walk around 90 miles in a weekend. Hot, sweaty, swollen feet will never be attractive. Ever.

We had a canal cruise booked for the evening, so we grabbed some lunch (and more alcohol) but the bloke got more than he bargained for when a Dutch pigeon took a fancy to him and pooped on him and his phone several times. My god, I laughed……! He actually made us move tables in the end, with me following behind (carrying alcohol obviously) laughing my head off. *loving wife alert*.

food

After a brief siesta in the hotel, we made our way back into town, grabbed some more booze (I’m worrying myself here….) and some snacks, watched the people of Amsterdam finish work and meet up with their loved ones – Europe always does down time so much better than London, the kids all join in with everything, people look relaxed and happy and everything just feels, nicer. It’s probably because I’m on holiday but I always want to move where I visit…..!

aperole

The canal cruise was brilliant! An hour floating around the canals of Amsterdam, soaking up the last of the sun and some of the history. Loved it. I am turning into a bit of a history freak if I’m honest, old buildings, stories from the past, I’d rather do that than go to a club and get smashed. Look at me, all grown up at last!

canal2

Sky

pirate

canal1

canal2

Then, more food, more booze and more walking. Round the Red Light District. Had to be done! It sort of came from nowhere (pardon the pun) shops, shops, shops, naked women doing bizarre dances in windows. Obviously the red lights round the window should have given it away, I dunno, I blame the booze?

RLD2

RLD1

It’s quite odd actually. You find yourself thinking, should I look, should I not look? Should I be giving the bloke a dig for looking…..? To be honest, they all looked quite plastic and robotic, it was far from sexy.

Saturday was our last day *sad face* so we checkout of the hotel, grabbed breakfast and coffee, then did a little bit of shopping and sat in one of the huge parks sunbathing and napping. I say sunbathing, I mean sun-hiding and moving with the shade of the trees, but that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

love

river

tree

mojito

blossom

Our flight was at 6.40pm so we hit the airport at 4ish, had some Chinese, then checked in. The flight was delayed so we may have made use of the massage chairs in the lounge, at this point my feet were literally on fire (trainer issue) and I was dreaming of taking them off. Easy Jet had other ideas though, they made us wait in what I can only call a greenhouse for an hour and a half, only to tell us the plane had broken down (falangees??) and could we make our way to another gate where we could board another plane. Of course there was a giant bundle (love that word) with people flying to the gate (hello husband who made it to first in the queue!) where we then had to wait for the crew to grab a coffee and water and saunter over to the plane, then they had to prepare, then lost some passengers.

Then…. we got on, seat belts on please, ready to fly, clap clap, oh look at that, we’ve got no fuel….. What!? So we then sat on the plane for another hour waiting for someone to find some fuel in the Schiphol. (Uh huh, I learned me some Dutch while I was waiting). But to be fair, they did offer us a complimentary plastic cup of water, so can’t complain…..!

Three hours later than planned we were on Gatwick turf, the trainers were off and we were almost home to the babies. Travel bug reignited, Amsterdam love increased and marriage refreshed. I reckon it was a bloody good trip.

flying

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