Top Image

Top Image

A quickie - oo err, Matron.

Posted on: Sunday, 5 August 2012

Just a quickie as we're a complete pair of penises (peni?) who leave all the washing, ironing and packing until the night before we're due to go on holiday. Why, why, why?! 

The Brussels apartment is beautiful. Actually beautiful. I thought I might be being a bit biased but Adam's colleague Katie has verified that it is, indeed, a lovely apartment. She came around today to translate our inventory from our caricature of a capitalist European landlord. He has the kind of tan it's only possible to achieve when skiing in Aspen and a very expensive watch. I had a day of Sorting Stuff Out on Friday which included a trip to the post office to pick up my (entirely-too-expensive-but-stuff-it-you-only-move-to-Brussels-once) DONNA WILSON BLANKET. It looks a ruddy TREAT on the sofa. Even Bedders conceded that it is, in fact, stunning. 

So. I shall do some proper pictures when all is up and running but suffice to say I'm turning into an interiors BORE. The low-point came when we started pinteresting before we could decide how to hang the pictures on the front room. 

BORE OFF, MCDONAGH. So this is what we've been up to. 

Humming and hawing about where to put pictures (pinterest assistance required)

Worshipping at the altar of iMac.

Bedders MADE me paper flowers for our first wedding anniversary. Using a YouTube tutorial. If he was a wrestler he'd be The Ultimate Husband. They're really deserving of their own post, but time is pressing. I've been rearranging them and resisting the temptation to pick them apart to see how he did it. 

Rediscovering my I'd-save-you-from-a-burning-building possessions (like this Alan Stones print).

Today we had a mooch around a market at Place de Jeu de Baile which was Right Up Our Collective Street. Reproduction Eames easy chairs everywhere. And then we built a barbecue on the decking. Then we fell out, then we drank some beer, then all was right with the world. 

The only blot on my otherwise pretty peachy existence at the minute is my ever-growing collection of mozzie bites, including one beauty which has turned my wrist into a big fat swollen mess. However, I'm prepared for Spain with a supply of Avon's Skin So Soft body oil, which Jeremy Vine claims the SAS use as a repellant (incidentally, this is the only useful bit of information I've ever garnered from Jeremy Vine).

So. Barcelona and Valencia tomorrow. I've only been to Barcelona once and stayed in a depressingly shabby youth hostel with a group of girls. A dirty old man followed us down onto the beach and in my 'I'm abroad! I'm 22! This man is scary!' panic I could only shout, 'Non! Non!' at him in a curious half-French, half-Geordie accent. Nevertheless, it was a grand few days and I warmed to its edginess and its culture.

In other news, the baby name saga rumbles on. Now we're down to Rufus, Rohan/Rowan, Rupert or Ralph. So we're on 'R' now, it would seem. Hopefully there'll be a resolution before Christmas. I'll keep you posted. 

Bon vacances! 


Post a Comment

Thoughts/comments/craic? Go for your life, as my father would say.

Soz about the word verification. The spammers are driving me nuts.

Parliament Of Owls All rights reserved © Blog Milk Powered by Blogger