Bunting

The hen do really was super :)

Hen Dos

So I had a hen do.

And it was properly fantastic.

Like, really, really fantastic.

We rented the rooftop bar in the Central in Nyerrcassle (technically Gateshead, actually). T'is a lovely place. Same shape as the Flat Iron building in New York, except mini and in the North East. It's owned by the same folk who own Head of Steam opposite the station in town, but it has two major advantges in that it's infinitely more aesthetically pleasing as a building and it doesn't reek of smelly farts. Always a winner.

We hired the rooftop terrace, which was wonderful. We were up 'midst the rooftops of Gateshead. Every so often a train rattled by. It was hot. We drank shandy up on the roof. I got a Drifters' song stuck in my head.

Myself and bridesmaid Alex had debated what activity to do for some time. You see, I had this inexplicable desire to do some life-drawing. As long as it was a fat, old bloke, you understand. Preferably with a beard. I loved the idea of it.  A bit-tongue in cheek, a bit Benny Hill. Brilliant dress-up opportunity in that we could wear berets and fake moustahces.  

But the fella at the college was a bit slack. And I'm an organisation freak. Not a good combination. So we went back to the drawing board. And Alex came up with contacting the ladies at Made in Newcastle - a super-cool little shop in the toon that specialises in all things crafty and kitsch.

Let me tell you: The Girl Done Good.

We decided on getting the gang to do some felting and make some bunting. You know, felting. To felt (not "to felch" as Katy Tew said. In front of my mum). Basically, stuff a load of candy-floss-type wool into a frame with a barbed needle and make a keyring or brooch. Or a 'Creature', which was what AP managed. And bunting - heck, you're reading a wedding blog,. You know what bunting is, don't you?

I was so ridiculously excited. I saw the mini ironing boards and went into spasms. Then I spied the sewing machines and the button box and nearly died. Then out came the cupcakes and that about finished me off...

We went oot on the toon Newcastle-stylee, i.e. Not Wearing A Coat. I wore a fancy dress and drank raspberry mojitos. Never has more fun been had.

And to think the weekend before I'd had a major "I don't even WANT a hen do!" stampy-foot-temper-tantrum with Bedford. Hen dos? Do 'em. It'll reaffirm your faith in friends and family and their infinite wonderfulness. Honest. And that's not the mojitos talking. Hen don'ts? Don't get stressed. It'll be reet, as they say in Newcastle.

Residentials

Remember those? Residentials? A.K.A. School trips where y'all sleep over?

Dorms. The air heavy with the scent of Impulse bodyspray. Copious amounts of salt-and-vinegar chipsticks. Midnight makeovers with a poor selection of cosmetics pilfered from mums and sisters. Conversations about which boys you fancied the most. Yup. They were ace.

'But I thought they didn't exist any more!' I hear you cry. Didn't they happen back in ye olde happy days before where-there's-blame-there's-a-claim and health and safety went bonkers?

Well, you're wrong. I'm on one. With Year 8. Destination: Ullswater, the Lake District. Objective: tucker those little so-and-sos out.

Yesterday we walked ridiculous numbers of kilometres with heavy packs on. It took 7 hours. Then we camped, cooked some hideous packet food and slept. Woke up in the pissing rain. Got dressed and packed up in the pissing rain. Sang happy birthday to Kirsten (aged 13) in the pissing rain. Walked for 2 hours in the pissing rain. Clamboured up a gorge. It'd stopped raining but I was up to thigh-depth in freezing water so it didn't really matter by that point.

But who am I kidding? I'm loving it. It's ace. It's a bit like Stand By Me up here. The kids are coming-of-age and growing up and going through emotional turmoils and enjoying the outdoors and gaining confidence and learning stuff. Woah. Seriously, I might shed a tear before the week is out. Lying alone in a tent with no mobile signal or light or book (it got soaked through) allows you just to... think. And mebbes get a bit philosophical. I might post more on that later.

Oh yes. School trips are just as good as they were. Even though these days the minibuses have seatbelts - no more cries of 'link arms, kids!'. And the teachers aren't getting blotto on wine like they were back in the day. Well, not completely blotto anyway.

The picture: lo! The view from my tent this morning. Getting a brew on, inniiiiiit.

Mostest-favouritest-thing-ever-of-all-time?

I have a superb idea for table names at the wedding.

And it's SO superb because it's so perfectly 'us' (yes, I have just been a little bit sick in my mouth at the thought of how smug and simpering that sounds. But I'm over it).

'Laura, what's your favourite thing of all time?'

'Oo, I don't know.'

'Come on-if you had to name one thing you loved more than anything else in the world, what would you go for?'

'Umm...well, if you put it that way, probably the cover designs of Faber books.'

Hark. Take a look-see at what I've bought.

Actually repressing the urge is squeal 'eeeeeek'. What is it about weddings that turns everyone into a bit of a nob?!

I had a wedding make-up trial...

...and I love it.

Hello! My name's Laura. I don't look fake. Or orange. Or like a scary woman on a make-up stand in House of Fraser.

I look like me. HOORAH.

This isn't the greatest picture in the world to show it off. But trust me, it's fab.

And Sarah Southwell of purebliss mobile beauty is a supremely-talented superstar.*

*not just saying that because she's a future in-law.

Happy Holidays

Well, what has been happening lately? Hmm. Let me think.

We went to Corner of Eden. Possibly the most beautiful b&b in all of England. It's freakin' stunning, man. Cue a couple of lazy days where Bedford and I managed successfully to unwind.

In  addition to the b&b, they've just finished a self-catering barn conversion next door which sleeps six. Check it out. Anyone fancy a weekend away? I bloody do if I get to sit on that tartan sofa.






We spent a couple of hours and sixty quid in a second-handbookshop in Sedbergh (it's the Hay-on-Wye of the North, don't you know?) We ate lots of chips. We lay in until the ungodly hour of NINE AM.

In short, it was mint.

On the first night we had tea in The Black Swan in Ravenstonedale and the Lambing Live team were in. It could only happen with Bedford, I tell you. We'd joked on the way in, 'Oo, perhaps we'll see Adam Henson! And Kate Humble! And her bouncy hair!' Sure enough we walked in and who was established in the snug? Adam Henson, Kate Humble and her bouncy hair.  

Pffft. What're the chances?

For the Countryfile fans amongst you, Adam was very nice and signed and autograph for a toddler who plainly had no idea who he was but whose mum obviously fancied him. Quite a bit. And had a laddy conversation with a cameraman about a bird he's been seeing. The cameraman, not Adam.

There was lots of loud, braying BBC laughter and outside broadcast in-jokes. "Fnarr fnarr, but did you get a camera on it? Fnarr fnarr...." O....K....

I have also rekindled my love for Home Sense. Yes, there is some rubbish in there. Yes, at the present moment in time you will probably have to struggle past a Royal Wedding Street Party themed display on the way in. However, it's worth it when you can buy Orla Keily pillow cases on the cheap.

And...drumroll...wedding invites have LANDED. Although I will probably save pictures of that for my next RMW post. Oh my. I don't think I've ever been so pleased with anything in my whole life. Other than Bedford, that is. Doh.

Finally, in other news, the price of milk from milkman Gary has gone up by 3 ENGLISH PENCE. I know.

Doesn't he leave us lovely retro glass bottles, though?

I figure he's worth it on that count alone. I'm a sucker, I know.