Stop trying to make fetch happen - it's not going to happen!
14.02.14, 3:20 pm
James is off skiing next weekend with his dad, so I�m being abandoned for a week. This would be kind�ve OK if it were mid-summer, but because we�re currently stuck in an endless winter storm it means that I�m stuck indoors trying not to obsess about burglars. I�m also being made to watch a lot of Winter Olympics, especially as I�m woefully ignorant of all snow sports and James loves explaining things. Like, it�s one of his hobbies. Anyway, I�m not much looking forward to temporary solo living, but I guess it does mean I get to watch things like Ice Age and Mean Girls whenever I want. See, I think James would actually love Mean Girls, as he has a strange love of chick flicks, but he refuses to watch it because Lindsey Lohan is in it. And I see his point � she is basically accepted as being an awful person � but the film is BRILLIANT.
Speaking of burglars, I went to see my gran last weekend to celebrate her 85th birthday and check how she was doing. She seems OK now, but has predictably decided not to move to Sheffield, mostly because she thinks she�s too old and because she doesn�t want to consequently make me feel obliged to stay in Sheffield and look after her. I don�t agree with her reasoning, as she could never be a burden and I will always want to care for her, but I can see her point of view. Therefore, we�ve reached a compromise, which is that if she gets broken in again then we will look at her moving. Anyway, she was in good spirits for her birthday meal, despite my uncle being there and being his standard self, i.e. a bit boring. I was forced to eat so much food I gave myself heart palpitations, which wasn�t great, but then my palpitations love to dick with me both at the best and the worst of times, just to keep it fresh.
Burns Night party went well, despite the haggis exploding in the oven a bit and spraying bits of minced up offal everywhere. We played drunken Rapidough and some dreadful other game that I can�t remember the name of, and then I did the washing up whilst everyone else got pissed because I�m Martha Stewart, and was also on my no-booze month. Think we�ll be having a Shrove Tuesday party next, and hopefully this will not be featuring at my house. Cleaning the whole place to guest-visiting standard is actually bloody knackering.
Oh, it�s raining again. Brilliant. Anyway, don�t think there�s much else left to report. This is the problem with starting to blog again � you very quickly realise that not a lot happens in your life. Sometimes I wish I was back at university again, but then I remember how generally poor, hungover and cold I was, and how I spent most of my time watching Murder, She Wrote and pining after Paddy. So I probably shouldn�t go back to those times.
Mel ambushed me by phone last night when I was walking home from the pub, and because I was quite drunk I found myself promising to find her the perfect County Durham cottage for her hen do. Argghh, I hate hen dos! I know that they�re generally seen as fun and good things, but for some reason they just fill me with cold dread. It�s probably because my first hen do involved careering around Manchester city centre dressed as a B-list Disney character, and those scars take a long time to heal. When (IF,I MEAN IF, DON�T HAVE A STRESS ANEURSYM IF YOU�RE READING THIS, JAMES) I get married, I think I might just not have a hen do. Is that allowed? I hope it�s allowed.
Mild hangover from last night has just this second cleared. Sound the weekend klaxon. And get well soon, Zoe!
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