Dress hunting and picnic eating
13.05.08, 7:56 pm

I have been woefully neglectful of this place of late, owing to various angsty issues cropping up � memorial trees and the like. With regards to the tree, I�ve taken the route of just not thinking about it, which, as someone has already pointed out to me, is highly predictable and typically me. Unfortunately I really do not enjoy experiencing personal turmoil, and so the memorial tree and associated issues have been sacked off for the time being.

Anyway, I don�t want to write about angsty stuff � I have enough of that with the boy wanting to discuss things at various unwelcome times, such as during breakfast. This weekend was gloriously sunny, and on Saturday we went off to Graves Park and had a PICNIC. I haven�t had a picnic since Uni and it was amazing. We picked the most remote, maximum-distance-from-children spot we could find and proceeded to ram food in like we were a couple of famine victims. God, I love eating so much, and I especially love eating humous after a four-hour fast. We then went for a romantic walk through the woods, which were full of bluebells, until we hit a patch of wild garlic and James started sneezing like crazy, and then I realised that I really needed a wee, and we decided to knob off home.

A lot of the weekend was also spent looking for a dress, as one of my friends from work is getting married on Friday and we�re all going to the reception in the evening. I was just going to wear a skirt, but then all my friends abandoned me and decided to wear dresses, so I trawled the entire world looking for a suitable dress and found absolutely bollocks all. Everything suitable was either a size 20 or a size 8, and the dresses actually in a size 12 could only have been worn by whore-bags and Jehovah�s Witnesses. By Day 2 (Sunday morning) James had completely forgotten the dress spec that I�d described on the bus, and kept grabbing pink strapless monstrosities at random and shoving them into my arms with a proud and optimistic smile. He then got grumpy and mooched off to buy a box of tissues because his hay fever has arrived and is generally pissing everyone off.

I went into H&M yesterday, found a dress within five minutes and bought it without even trying it on, because I didn�t want to join the queue of chavvy 14 year-olds by the fitting room. It fits fine, and should be fine for Friday. Now all I need is for it to not rain.

The rest of the weekend was spent sunbathing, washing up, avoiding the Grand Prix and drinking tea. Oh and going to Tesco. James and I had a conversation about which vegetable we most resemble (James: runner bean, me: spring onion), and I read a lot of Oliver Twist. I appear to have gained zero tannage, and my bastarding freckles have come out.

Oh, I forgot to tell the world about my echocardiogram. Well, once again I was the youngest person in the room by about 60 years. There was a medical student observing too, so it was very cosy with the three of us huddled around my monitor looking at my insides. Anyway, it was quite exciting looking at various parts of my heart whumphing in and out, but the gel was FREEZING COLD, and the technician kept telling me off for breathing too slowly. Her pi�ce de r�sistance was then to shove the stick thing right into my diaphragm to �check for holes� and leave it there for a good forever. Anyway, the whole thing was fine and I got a letter through the other day to say that my heart is structurally normal, so yay! Just waiting to have my hideous CT scan thing, but am yet to have an appointment. Good old NHS.

Here are some photos from the weekend. They're a bit pixellated, for reasons unknown:

Right, time to twat about until Waking The Dead comes on.

last - next