Eyes on the Leprachaun to get the pot of gold

Our black recycle bin (bottles, plastic and aluminum) is already full to the brim. It never has been before. Mostly bottles of beer and Prosecco with some cans of Draught Guinness in too. We had a party on St Patrick’s night. And spent the days in the run up shopping, cleaning, baking and cooking. So now I’m living the post party slump. Later today I’ll probably deflate the leprechaun balloon with a straw and give the kids a giggle as I squeak out the helium. I’d better take down the tinsel shamrock chains too. The party was a big success – the Paddy-o-meter quiz was a good ice-breaker. All of our guests – bar one – got the bonus point for answering in the affirmative to ‘Do leprechaun’s really exist’. The chocolate Guinness cake did resemble a pint of Stout and had the subtle kick from the 250 mls of the black stuff. Offering the bowl of button badges upon entry was an inspired move too! A pastiche of the risqué couples game from the 70’s – but this time, the most daring outcome was a lapel badge with ‘Kiss me quick – I’m Irish’.

It’s been raining favours

My last hair cut was a Groupon offer but even that levy now seems a little steep with no obvious income stream in place – yet. Though I have had it in mind that I needed a trim. Last week as I popped to the high street on a mission to get my daughter some good story books having come to the end of the diary entries from a fictional passenger on the Titanic (great events retold through fictional diaries) I was approached by a young guy on the street corner.  He asked if I’d like a free blow-dry. He’d picked a good pitch close to the charity shops and a needy model in me. But I had this message to do, then dash to school for pick-up so I declined.  But just as I did with the amethyst ring, I made a u-turn. I offered my locks on another day that would suit him and went one better, asking if he needed to practice his cutting skills too. And he did! What a gift!

That’s just one obvious favour that has fallen in to my lap.  At my volunteer post today, the boss insisted I dip in to petty cash for expenses.  I’d regretted not taking her up on the offer when I started so here was my chance again.

I’ve been doing some work on my entrenched (negative) beliefs about money.  And I think the universe is taking heed to my shift and has put me on it’s payroll.

Even lesser likely to get drunk

A few posts back I mentioned how I ‘acquired’ an Amethyst heart ring. That sounds dodgy. It wasn’t. I purchased it but for only a fiver – so it’s a steal! Though of course I hope it’s not. It did come from the back of a lorry but most of the lots at the antique fair in the racegrounds are sold from trucks. It sat in a bowl with a lot of other less worthy rings – this one clearly stood out. And it fit my ring finger perfectly. I only wear a wedding band so I have a bare hand to dress. At no one elses expense I hope. Years ago, a pal arrived home to find her flat broken in to. Properly plundered. And the dearest items of all were the jewellery and keepsakes belonging to her mother. She’d lost her to cancer when she was 24 and it was like losing her all over again. For months she trawled the high streets looking in jewellery shops and antique markets in case the ring had been sold on. Her own marriage floundered. I think it died that day too. At some level she blamed him for not keeping her precious memories safe.

A year or so later she hawked her own ring to fund a scuba diving holiday. Spectacular as her ring was, I wouldn’t want to be the next sweetheart wearing an engagement ring that had (and pardon the pun in advance) first-hand experience of the sad events that led to ring and wearer separating.

Today I was assured by a crystal healer with clairvoyant inklings (alot more on that in another post – sooo much to share) that the ring wasn’t stolen. Though she instructed me in a cleansing ritual which would make the ring truly mine. After washing it in flowing water, submerge in sea salt, leave for a few hours and then reclaim. It’s already seen me through a root canal procedure. It’s my talisman. My amulet. A gift to myself (though I stung my DH for it – £5 note from his wallet to cover my zumba class that need not be reimbursed). The amethyst was said to offer protection from drunkenness. While I haven’t felt like hitting the bottle while I’m trying to sort out my head, it’s nicely reassuring.

And it is one pretty ring, don’t you think.

Still reading zero on the smellometer


I’ve self diagnosed and I appear to be suffering from anosmia (can’t smell) which is making hypogeusia (can’t taste) kick in. I’m guessing brought on by my Hayfever or I might actually have sinus bother. Either way, freddo the chocolate frog I had for breakast could just as well have been a slab of butter. The ‘home cooked’ risotto pie I ate out for lunch on Friday was totally wasted on me. As was the polenta cake I baked on Sunday. Blindfolded I’d have been hard pushed to tell them from each other.

And the real test – I bought a ‘vintage’ slip at Sunbury antiques market last Tuesday. It had the mothball smell that is impossible to shift – though I did try. A couple of washes will render it bearable for indoor wear. Well, I buried my nose in it and couldn’t smell a thing. Sniffing my four-year old son’s trousers after a day’s rough play is no different to breathing in the scent from my washing machine drum. Peeps, it’s so disconcerting. I feel a detachment from my life as I live it. You know how it is when you are flying and your ears haven’t popped yet but all around you everyone else’s has.

When I bought that slip, I also bought an even smellier but rather divine gold threaded scarf/tablecloth. It hasn’t got close to soap and water yet and I’m using that cloth as my control. And still not a whiff.

concrete bungle


Well the concrete brick that was on my head when I wrote the last post is gone.  It must have lodged itself there when I took the anti-histamine for my hay-fever. Give me sniffles and bloated eyes any day. I took to my bed as soon as could be and stayed there as long as I could – over thirteen hours under the duvet.  So when I got up I wasn’t walking through treacle anymore.  The kids stayed in their pajamas until 4 but couldn’t be persuaded to make it to bedtime.  Though there was no need to dress and we didn’t stick our noses out the door.  I can not remember when I’ve had a day like that.  I was retreating, taking a pit stop. I can hear my motor humming again. 

low score

 If this post carried an emoticon, it would look like this (:-  Colour would be black and score would be 1. 

Dragged myself to zumba class today and it was a trial. Hayfever meds make me drowsy and I’m thinking that might be why I feel so lethargic. Want to crawl back under my duvet but have some motions to go through til the kids curfew,  Then I can bomb.