Exciting yet stressy.

Pen Do.

So the weekend saw the advent of Pen Do. And, by Christ, Sunday saw the advent of New Lent. I will be alcohol-free for forty days and forty nights.

It's fine to start Lent a week in. Chris Evans said so. He did - on Monday's breakfast show (for the record, he's cutting out beer and bread. I swear, a significant part of my carb-related paranoia is down to Mr Evans.) No, I don't know what the Pope's official line on it is. But if the Big Man himself did 40 days in the desert, so if that's good enough for him, it's good enough for me.

But I digress. The reason for enforced sobriety? PEN DO WAS STONKING, MAN.

Although that combination of gin, red wine and apple sours (why?) was not. Gaaaaah.

Sunday was a Day of Twos. two hot cross buns. Two naps. Two Panadols. Two lime and sodas. One of anything just wasn't doing the job.

Anyway, so PenDo. Penny has written about it. Anna K has written about it. And now I shall write about it. Oh yes I shall.

I will put links in to their witty write-ups when I'm not on the iPad - oh yes, DID I MENTION I BOUGHT AN IPAD?! And years of being scathing about Apple have come to an abrupt end? - mainly so that you can read and internally vomit about 'intimate pink' being used as a colour description for any kind of branding purposes and for Anna's rather lovely sum-up of everyone. Aw, shucks. It's all true.

If this was Guide camp, we'd be hugging right now.

First of all, let it be known that it was like a massive blind date. Oh god. I haven't been in the back of a taxi wearing a pretty dress and trying to ignore sweaty palms for Quite Some Time. I didn't enjoy that bit. Wasn't dating exhausting? Cilla lied to us. Our Graham and his quick recap lied. Dating isn't exciting. It's overrated and stressful and leads to whiny existential conversations with female friends.

Secondly, let it be known that they are all REAL PEOPLE. I know, I was surprised, too. But they are. And they live up to their personas. Because, let's face it, prior to Saturday, they were all personas. Rebecca was the epitome of swan-like elegance. Anna was a Quip Machine with incredible pouting abilities. Penny was an edgy rock goddess. And so on. But on Saturday they came to life from the moment I found Amy, Anna, Gemma, Kirsty, Bex and Lucy at the bar and uttered the immortal words, 'Pen Dooooo?'

There was a pause that in reality was about four nanoseconds. At that moment it felt like aeons. Then Amy said, 'Yes!'

Halle-flipping-luiah.

So Rebecca and Penny appeared. And Neon Cactus fed and watered us. And we sang karaoke. And Daniel by Elton John was on the machine. Ah, me. And someone took lots of photos (apparently. I was doing too much Elton-loving to really notice, it seems.)

And do you know, it was bloody marvellous? Completely and utterly out of my comfort zone if I'm totally honest - all gob, no trousers, me - but actually ace. I was reminded of Baz Luhrmann and that 90s hit Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen) - 'Do something each day that scares you.'

Although I think what scared me, on reflection, wasn't actually the meeting up, but the measuring up. I don't think I've ever hung out with such a gang of Ridiculous Over-Achievers. Errr, girls, I think it would do you some good to, like, FAIL AN EXAM or NOT BE SO DEVASTATINGLY STYLISH or HAVE A BAD HAIR DAY. You're showing the rest of us up.

Thanksbye.

Indeed he does.

Sometimes somebody at work comes across a truly brilliant window sticker and just, like, gives it to you.

Pen Do

The count down to Pen Do is on.

Have you met Penny? She is the original badass bride. She wore a feathery dress to her wedding. She fronts a band. Like, an actual real-life band. She performed at her own reception. And there were definitely some turquoise shoes in there somewhere. And a mental cake.

Some time ago, she came up with the idea for Pen Do. A do organised by Pen. Ny. I don't think I know her well enough to call her Pen. Not yet, anyway.

So, this Saturday, in Leeds, a load of women-what-write-and-read-stuff-on-t'interweb-about-life-and-that will be let loose in a karaoke bar for one glorious night only. There will be alcohol. And singing. Crikey O'Reilly.

Meanwhile, I'm having mild outfit panic.

I kind of wish I had ordered this.

NW3, £159

Or this.

NW3, £159

Bur definitely not this. Yikes.

Don't think you need to know how much it is because ONLY MAD WOMEN would buy this bodycon horrowshow.

All pickletures ASOS.

What are folk wearing?

I feel like the shy girl who will only go to the loo at the school disco if her friend comes with her. Argh.

Epic Fail

"I've found the best Valentine's card EVER. It's perfect. You will LOVE it. Guaranteed."

Thus spake Bedders. Thus spake Bedders, in fact, for a good two weeks. He was proud of himself, man. In fact, he was a little smug. It started to grate a bit, if I'm honest.

I was my usual disorganised self. My work/life balance (pah, work/life? More like work, more fecking work, oooo hello worky work WORK WOOOOOORK) has been ree-dic-u-larse of late and etsy-perusing has become a luxury I can ill afford.

So I purchased a card that I liked and that reminded me of that belter of a Frank Wilson tune #do I love you? Indeed I do, sweet darling, indeed I do....#

Owing to the paraphrasing on the front, y'see. Cute. Nowt spesh.

Smug Bedders had one up on me. Or so I thought.

BECAUSE HE LEFT IN HIS BLOODY DESK DRAWER AT WORK.

Like my card to Bedders?

Like Bedders' card to me?

He was right though, wasn't he? It IS rather lovely.

Yes, that is Fitzwilliam Darcy's declaration of love.

Cue some serious Regency-style swooning.

Shelvetastic

So we may be moving house.

Mebbes.

But more on that later.

The thought of moving brings thoughts of packing. The thought of packing brings thoughts of hot sweats and rashes.

I hate moving. Strike that. I despise moving.

But anyhoo. I got to thinking the other day about non-negotiables as far as a house was concerned. You see, we may need to move to a house that's rented. One where we can't paint the walls or mess around with wallpaper. Or we could, I suppose, but there would be little point.

So what could I do to make it my house? What would I absolutely have to have?

I think the answer is shelves. Shelves, man. They're a massive deal in wor hoose.

More practising with the camera....more faffing about with the iPad!

Beer mats as a Save The Date? Good, eh?

"Though lovers be lost, love shall not."

That's a Dylan quotation right there. Dylan Thomas, that is. Yes sirree, I have been in the land of one of the greatest Masters of the Simile of all time - unconvinced? "Smiling like a razor blade." Wowzers - as well as the land of Charlotte Church and her cheeky Vimto shots. The land of sheep and mining choirs. The land of Mr Tom Jones.

And we had a lovely pre-Valentine's/thank-God-above-it's-half-term break.

We walked and talked and made some plans and put the world to rights.

We spent a full hour on Sunday morning in bed with a coffee and the Saturday papers. That was a little bit glorious.

And I played with the camera.

We stayed at Pennant, near Llangollen. There was freezing fog when we arrived. It felt like we were on top of the world, although not in a euphoric way. More like a 'can't-actually-see-if-this-road-is-tarmac-or-a-dirt-path' kind of way. Look at that ice formation, I told Bedders. A theist would use that as part of a teleological argument for the existence of God.

Mmm, said Bedders.

There were woodland pigs at Chirk Castle. They were utterly monstrous.

They were definitely representative of the colour palette of the weekend, though.

We saw a sliver of blue sky in the gardens at Chirk.

But was it enough to make a pair of sailor's trousers? Bedders wanted to know.

Thank you, Paul and Claire for our National Trust membership-as-a-wedding-present. The perfect gift for a pair of utter nerds. You know us well. 

The animals on the farm had pretty Welsh names. This chap's girlfriend was called Beti.

We did a bit of hiking in between all the wine-drinking and blue-cheese-eating (obvs), for which we needed a map. I once again marvelled at how studiously Adam consults maps. I'm happy to wander*; he, alas, is not. 

My new walking boots are wicked. Merrell, don't you know. And I bought them with a wedding voucher**. Gerrin! Free boots!***

And then I did something very reckless.

On the way back, we stopped in Manchesterrrrr, land of the nasal twang. The land of the Gallagher brothers. Land of-OK, ENOUGH ALREADY!

And I purchased one of them ol' iPads. And I am clearly destined to be completely obsessed by it. Cue a lot of laborious faffing about with my photos from the weekend.

But I'm fulfilling my promise to work out how to make photos look prettier (I did actually vow that. Here)! Surely that must be worth a 69p app and a hell of a lot of fiddling?!

* OK, so I mean dither.
** Thank you, English department colleagues.
*** Well, significantly subsidised.

Be My Valentine

//find me here//

It is one of the finest Valentine's cards I've come across this year.

It almost made the cut for Bedford. Almost.

Unfortunately, I figured I'd probably appreciate it more than him and I was doing that annoying thing of buying something because I really liked it. Rather than because my husband would adore it similarly.

Today I am mainly procrastinating. Next week I will mainly be trying very, very hard to concentrate on work and not be completely and utterly distracted by going here on Friday:

Capel Pennant, NE Wales

Yes, in time-honoured Mr and Mrs Bedford tradition, we will be holing up in a country spot for a few days in half-term. Eeeeeeek. Oh, how we love a damp UK hideyhole!

Err, have you ever been on Under The Thatch? It's pretty amezzin'. Seriously. Want to stay in a renovated 1920s tin bungalow? Or a gypsy caravan by the sea? Or indulge your inner Cher and set up camp in the wagon from a travelling circus show?

Although I'm convinced they photoshop the skies in all of the pictures - the Welsh heavens have never, ever been that blue. But I'll let them off.

Weddingsday

I have been thinking about the wedding of late.

Bit sad. I know. January is the most depressing month of the year, I s'pose.

(...although I have had the most readers on this darn thing EVER this month. HELLO. People are reading. That's pretty grand, ain't it? You must sense there's an announcement coming. And your spidey sense is tingling for a reason!)

Do you know what? It was marvellous. The wedding, I mean.

I'd do it all again tomorrow.

I must get better at putting pickletures together in nice segments and making them look pretty.

I shall write something more...cohesive?...soon.