Destroy it Yourself: Pack it up, pack it in

When my aunt and uncle renovated their house, they moved their stuff into the basement. When my dad and step mom worked on their place, they hadn't moved in yet. And when my friend's rental place was redone, she moved into another unit. Clothes, kitchen goods, electronics, books, furniture, all must be packed away for the duration of the project. So what do you do in a flat?

 

1) Sort through your stuff. Now is a good time to donate clothes you don't wear, books you're not going to reread, and any extra stuff you don't use. Go through papers for filing or destroying, and be honest when deciding which things stay. I asked myself the following questions:

• Do I need it? Or, do I need three of it? While I have never had an emergency requiring more three ladles, I can't be sure how I would react, but I only kept one anyway. I like to live on the wild side...
• Do I use it? Have I used it (worn it) in the last year? For clothes, I also make sure they fit and I'd be happy wearing them in public. It's amazing how much the "public" part of that helps make decisions. We said goodbye to a heap of Tall Guy's (old and sad) t-shirts and also ditched a bunch of (really sad) socks.
• Does it have sentimental value? My mom gave me a good tip for this one - take a picture and move on. A case in point - stuffed animals. Unless you vacuum pack them, which means you're definitely not using them or even looking at them, they take up a lot of space. Keep a snapshot and memories as a souvenir and pass on the toys so someone else can play.

2) Pack in suitcases and boxes of the same size. Our off-season clothes are being stored in suitcases at Spanish Aunt's place. Easy to move and easy to pop into a closet or under a bed. Clothes we're using are in suitcases under our bed at our in-laws, where we are staying until the renovation is done. Boxes that are the same size are easier to stack and store (keep reading).



3) Use the space you have. We wiggled and jiggled and jammed and piled, but our dining room set and appliances now all fit on the terrace. They're wrapped up and will be just fine. Our building has a small amount of shared basement storage, which is where we've put larger items we're trying to get rid of (anyone want an coat rack exercise bike?). If you're using shared storage space, make sure you label your things and organize them safely so no one has to scale a mountain of boxes to get to their own things. Finally, we have two built-in closets that are staying as they are. They are filled with boxes and sealed off with plastic.


4) Make a list and check it twice. This way you'll know where everything is. It's not the most thrilling task, but listing and labeling is a lot better than having a panic attack and dumping out eight boxes before realizing your passport was in your desk drawer all along...

Destroy it Yourself: The Homer Simpson Revelation

Tall Guy and I have spent every free moment taking down walls, removing doors, ripping up floors, and cleaning up all those bits and pieces to get ready for our big renovation. They're coming on Monday, and everything needed to be out so the construction can begin.



straight from the can

We're worn out and our hair is so dusty it's grey, and now I understand the allure of beer and doughnuts.


homemade strawberry doughnuts

I enjoy the occasional beer, especially on a hot day with a  nice salty Spanish tapa, but I didn't really get beer until now. When you're doing (de)construction, you need beer. And doughnuts. It's the only meal that will satisfy after a long day spent ripping up a floor or smashing down a wall.


Homer Simpson, I've misjudged you.
 

i get it now

Destroy it Yourself: Stop. Sign.

We were both ready to rip this place up from the day we moved in, starting with the bathroom:

Drainage problems, no storage, a painted bathtub (little bits stick to your feet when the water is really hot, so we didn't even try sitting down in there), humidity in the closet in the next room...

And then the old-school kitchen, built in a time when live-in maids did all your cooking and you did all your eating at a fancy dining room table. We don't have a live-in maid and we are more kitchen-eaters than formal-diners. The layout was just not practical, and while the oven still worked, I was keen on one that had more temperatures than hot and super-hot and that did not leave cakes and bread crisp on the outside and gooey on the inside. Yum.

So we started saving, collecting ideas, pinning pictures, reading home magazines, and making an awful lot of trips to Ikea and the hardware depot. We also started gathering professional opinions and quotes.

As we started our research, we were alerted to two issues. Firstly, this was going to be a major job: Electric and plumbing needed to be replaced throughout the flat. Yikes! Secondly, we hadn't lived there yet, so we couldn't really say exactly what we needed and wanted. Time to pick out a contractor.

I knew our guy was "the one" from the moment I laid eyes on his office door. The handles were letters, an H and a C. Could it be any more obvious? Apparently it could be, because I had to explain it to Tall Guy,

"Those are the initials of our surnames!" I cried, "We have to hire him!"

Tall Guy, ever practical, thought we should hear what he had to say first, check up on his reputation, visit some of his job sites, and see if the price was right. I wasn't worried, I knew it would work out, and it did - HC start construction in a few days!

Our advice for finding a contractor (in Madrid or anywhere, I guess!) is, firstly, unless you're doing the whole project by yourself, use a contractor! Trying to coordinate everyone is extremely difficult, especially in Spain. Oh, Spain, the land of vague appointment times, where "soon" can mean anything from actually "soon" to "six days later" to "when I get around to it". USE A CONTRACTOR. It does not have to be more expensive. We are in fact saving money and cutting down on time.

Second, use someone who is licenced to do the work. Especially if you're in a flat, you'll probably need permission to move walls or add bathrooms, etc. I for one do not plan to waste hours or possibly days of my life shuffling around the town hall trying to get paperwork signed. Been there, done that, not going back. It would also really not be good to put in a toilet only to find that it's leaking into your downstairs neighbour's living room, because you read your house plan wrong and connected it to the wrong drainage tube.

Third, try to know what you're talking about. Tall Guy did a lot of research, for which I am especially grateful. I have no interest in what type of cable the stove needs to function properly and safely, and maybe Tall Guy doesn't either, but he found out and it pays to know these things. There's a Spanish saying, lo barato sale caro - cheap things get expensive. One guy suggested cutting costs by using cables not thick enough according to the building code. Adios, amigo - we don't want electrical problems!

Fourth, check references, but go with your gut. Signs, instincts, these feelings happen for a reason. If someone feels right or wrong, take that into consideration. Check into them, of course - visit places they've worked on, check up on finishing times and budgets, but don't feel bad for not hiring someone because they looked good on paper but you still had a bad feeling. Better spend more time meeting contractors than worrying about the work they're doing in your home.

Fifth, personality. Our guy is very friendly and hard-working. He's up on design and building trends, and while sometimes his ideas are a little too modern for our tastes, it's good to know he's in the loop. He tells us when he thinks our ideas won't work and suggests ways to improve them. 

Destroy it Yourself: In the Beginning

In the beginning there was a house, and the house was in Madrid. The Groom to Be was in Madrid, and the Bride to Be was in London. The Groom to Be called the Bride to Be and said,

"I have boughtest us a flat in Madrid".

And the Bride to Be said, "I'm sorry, I must have heardest thee wrong, I thoughtest I heard you boughtest us a flat in Madrid."

And the Groom to Be said, "Correctamundo, I have boughtest us a flat in Madrid."

The Bride to Be reflected upon this news and while she was astonished at his words, she trusted the Groom to Be completely and did not much freakest out.

After thirty days, the Bride to Be arrived at the flat, which was old and filled with the previous owner's unwanted belongings, but is was in a wonderful neighbourhood and had a good amount of square metres, and she saw that it had potential.

One Month

One month ago, Tall Guy and I got married! 

photo credit: Freedom Photography

It was the best wedding ever. You´ll soon tire of hearing about how great it was. Or will you? I myself will never tire of hearing (myself or other people talk) about it. 

Since then, we´ve been in Japan, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand on our honeymoon, and to round things off, we spent a couple days in Hinojosa del Duque, where Tall Guy´s parents have a farm, recuperating from our adventures. 

Now, we´re back in Madrid, suitcases and boxes unpacked (unpacked is very different from organized...), and we have even painted our bedroom. It´s supposedly "medium brown". Ahem. I think "almost peachy" is a better description.  

And that, my friends, is a summary of the last 30 days in the life of the Talls.

Got it?

I'll wear my grandmother's old pearls. Something to remind me of where I came from: a great family and close friends, a small town childhood, maple syrup in litre jugs.

 

I'll wear a new Spanish comb, and hairpins. Something to remind me of where I'm going. A new country, a new name, new friends, another language, not to mention a husband!

 

I'll wear a borrowed diamond bracelet. Something to remind me that when I need something, it's ok, I can just ask.

 

I'll wear blue underwear. Something to remind me I am a Superwoman.

 

And I've got a piece of silver on my shoe. Because it looks good, and every bride should have a little bling.



In the Eye of the Beholder

The one where Tall Girl trashes or treasures things that came with her flat.



Tall Guy: Well, it's no Vermeer. Tall Girl: Agreed.

At the top of my list of things to do to get our new home ready for married life was, obviously, unpacking. Little did I know that the first things I would unpack would not be my own...

Tall Guy had told me that the flat was "pretty filled up with old lady things". I took this to mean furniture. And it's true. We are not lacking in the chintzy chair department. Little did I know that, apart from half a dozen gilt-framed mirrors, I had also gained boxes and closets overflowing with elderly goodies. A flat AND a giant glass fish? What a bargain!


You won't find that at Laura Ashley...

It's a little bit weird - the old lady lived here years ago, and until we bought it, it had been rented out. I don't understand where those people stored their things. Although who needs one's own things when one has a giant double-Jesus statue?


Jesus: Past and Present

Or these coffee cups? So bad they're good. And there are twelve more where those came from! At least I'll be prepared for when a troupe of Oompa-Loompas come over for dessert.


Sextagonal coffee cups: Spills guaranteed.

Or this red glowy lamp? Maybe I could use it for Christmas and Valentine's Day.


Bad mood lighting or bad-mood lighting?

It hasn't been a total trash trip though, and fortunately, we've come across some pretty useful things: We've got two sets of mismatched china to use until ours comes out of storage. We have enough cutlery to last until our third anniversary without washing any. The linen closet was filled with brand new towels, the washing machine is fairly new, and of course we're keeping this scraggly Christmas tree. Score!

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.

The third time's a charm...

You know you’re going British when… part three: you make hats. In the Tower of London.

(In case you missed them, the other two signs of me going British are here and here.)

Last Saturday, I went to a millinery workshop. I thought it would be fun, and also slightly ironic, to make a hat in the Tower of London. Because, you know, a lot of people lost the one thing you kind of need to wear a hat in there…

After tea and biscuits (because everything in England starts with tea and biscuits), eleven other women and I met with milliner extraordinaire, Ani Townsend. She told us about her latest project – making headpieces for a production of the Lion King in Wales. Amazing! I googled her before the course to have a peek at her portfolio (because I’m North American, and that’s what we do before everything), and while she specializes in period hats, she has also made some spectacular modern pieces. I like this one:

One of Ani's creations (photo from her website)

Before we started on our hats, we checked out the crown jewels for inspiration. And before I went, I watched this to get my creative juices flowing - I was determined to make something really cool to wear to my rehearsal dinner, and needed all the inspiration I could get! After the tour, Ani demonstrated techniques for creating accents and for repurposing bits and bobs for accents, for shaping, for securely attaching things. Then it was time to get down to business, and three hours later, I had made a hat! 

Actually, it’s more of a fascinator.

Potato, potaahto?

NO WAY!

A hat is, obviously, a hat. It covers your head and often has a brim. Hats can be utilitarian, religious or decorative.

A fascinator is a hat alternative that is more substantial than a barrette. It’s decorative. It attaches to the hair with a comb or a hairband.Fascinators are small to medium. Anything larger is called a substantial fascinator.

So what did I actually make?

Well, it has a small base and is attached to a comb. A fascinator.

It has a large bow. Substantial fascinator.

It has a veil. Is it encroaching on hat territory?

Let’s just call it....

a hatinator.

Actually, British people would never say hatinator - Canuck through and through...

Royal-tea (yep, I went there)

Cupcake and Tall Girl, where have you been?
We've been to London to visit the Queen!
For real.

Taste
Cupcake:  The most indulgent chocolate mousse brownie, stamped with a gold crown on top.

TG: fruitcake! You can’t go to a garden party at Buckingham Palace without eating a slice of fruitcake.

Hear

Cupcake: Queeny's commanding voice when asking a family what kind of business they run and will their daughters take over when they retire.

TG: A military band playing unexpected songs (Puttin’ on the Ritz, Indiana Jones theme song, and Mamma Mia – Her Maj’s top three?).


Touch

Cupcake: The carpet inside the red/pink drawing room on our way to the back garden. So soft and cushy under our feet :)

TG: The Queen’s hem with my shoe. Not really, but I could have.

                                                       

See

Cupcake:  Hats in every colour, shape and size and Kate Middleton's tiny waist.  

TG: The Queen’s impeccable makeup. Yes, we were that close. It’s ok to feel jealous.




Overall feeling

Cupcake:  Like I was on a movie set. It's almost as if the Royal Fam were actors and I was an extra on the set. I just couldn't believe they were a meter away from us. SO exciting!

TG: Highly strung with excitement and anticipation; it was all very surreal.

Top 10 Jubilee Weekend

Whether she's your queen or not, whether you are a monarchist or not, you've got to admit, at 86 years old, 60 years on the job, basically without any time off ever, and no signs of slowing down, this woman is pretty impressive. Here are the highlights of my looooong weekend:




10. Five days off, because my work was closed on Friday!

9.  These coats. And patriotic dressing in general. (My current nail varnish is Loyalty to Royalty. That's a shade of blue, obviously.)

8. Eating twice at Byron Burgers. Mmmm.

7. The general good mood of the crowds.

6. The Jubilee Sales. There are some seriously impressive deals out there!

5. All the free stuff Kanga and I did/got - hairdos, massages, champagne, baklava, facials...

4. The bunting. Why hasn't this caught on in more countires???

3. Seeing Her Maj (again!) at the river pageant.

2. The River Pageant. VERY impressive.

1. Tall Guy was here to enjoy it with me! And he bought me the offical programme!

You know you're going British when...

you dream about the Queen!
Yes folks, Her Royal Majesty appeared in my dream last night. I don’t know if it’s my upcoming workshops at Kensington Palace and the Tower of London, or reading her speech, the fact that I stalk take frequent walks past the palace, or my invitation to tea (for real!), but last night, there she was, in this splendid white dress and of course the blue sash (solid proof that she does wear things more than once).

This picture is from here

The Queen was in my mom’s house, and we were sitting on the couch together. She put her stocking feet onto the coffee table. And of course no one mentioned her feet on the table.

As I sat beside her, I was thinking not, “Why is the Queen in my mother’s house and why are her feet on the table?” but, “Hmm, my grandmother and the Queen look very much alike”.

My aunt fumbled with the camera - I think the batteries were weak - and before we could take a picture, the Queen had moved from the couch to the arm chair and alas, our cosy moment was not caught on film.

Oh well, there’s still a chance we’ll get a shot of the two of us sitting on a bench in the palace gardens, dipping biscuits into our tea.

The one on the last night

Last Friday, Tall Guy and I packed up the house, and Tall Guy moved back to Madrid!

Actually, that’s not quite accurate: Tall Guy packed the house. Before Friday. With inventories of everything that is in each box. He’s good. I'm not.

So really, he should have seen this coming… (check out the first minute or so).

A month ago, Tall Guy started asking me questions.

• Tall Guy: “Have you packed?”
• Me: “No, but don't worry worry, I’ll take care of it.”
• Tall Guy: infamous eyebrow raise.
• Me: “I will….”
• Tall Guy, eyebrow still raised: “Ok…”

Ten days ago, a reprise:

• Tall Guy: “Have you packed?”
• Me: “Well, my books are packed… the rest can wait. Don’t worry, it will get done.”
• Tall Guy: infamous eyebrow raise.
• Me: “It will…. Don’t nag me!”
• Tall Guy, eyebrow still raised: “Ok…”

The night before the movers came, on our way out for dinner:

• Me: “Hey, can you grab my coat? It’s in the right side of my closet”

• Tall Guy: “YOU. HAVEN’T. PACKED. Not a SINGLE thing! All of the boxes I made you are empty! ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then he fainted. Not really, but it wouldn’t have surprised me one tiny bit if he had a mild stroke.

• Me: "Um, surprise? You're such a good packer..."
• Tall Guy: Eyebrow raise.
• Me: "I'll do it tonight..."

Hairy Birthday!

It was my birthday last month, and it was pretty fabulous. It started with a lovely breakfast at home with Tall Guy, complete with champagne and orange juice, and even a birthday card full of cash.

Happy Birthday to me!

Then I went for a peas-full lunch at Hummus Bros (hardy-har-har) with my lovely work friends, where we had free dessert (woohoo!), a post-work birthday cocktail with Chippy, after which I went to meet Tall Guy at the Ritz for the last sitting of afternoon tea. Yum! We sat next to the gold fountain, which is behind the palm tree and my giant hair. 

Somewhere in there I managed to get a birthday hair do. Tall Guy’s reaction when we found each other at the Ritz? “You look like the past!” I did. And it was awesome.

The Day of Food was followed by Friday night on the town, complete with cupcakes (courtesy of Cupcake, of course,  who is the best cupcake maker* in the world), a massage, a parade of sparklers, a VIP lounge and a novelty saxophonist, fab hair still intact at 3a.m, thank you very much.

Contrary to popular belief, Tall Girl does sometimes let her hair down (although in this case, it was up, and thus only down metaphorically).

Thanks, Tall Guy and Ladies, for making the turning of the year an unforgettable one!

*If you're in the London area and need/want cupcakes, check out Cuppidy Cakes on Facebook, or click here. YUM!!!

We might need that...

Tall Guy and I went to the Curve Gallery at the Barbican Centre yesterday. Cupcake (my Canadian friend from work) alerted me to an installation by Song Dong, which she had seen a few years ago in Vancouver.

"It's neat", she said, "there's a lot of stuff... a whole life in a gallery."

The things belonged to Song Dong's mother, who lived through the cultural revolution in China. In Mao's China, wu jin qui yong - waste not, want not, was the way of life. We're talking triple R to the max - reuse, reuse and reuse. Broken shoelace? Keep it. Shoe box? Keep it. Old toothbrush? Keep it. You never know what might come in handy one day.

"Oh no," said Tall Guy once we had finally found the entrance (the Barbican is a bit of a maze), "this is one of your artsy-nerd places, isn't it... every time you take me someplace, it's weirder than the last..."


"Yep", I said. "It's gonna be weird - let's go in! You'll like it!"

Tall Guy went in first, and stopped dead in his tracks. "It's, um.... garbage..." he said, staring.

"No, it's a lifetime of things in a room"...

As we wandered through the stuff, Tall Guy became more enthusiastic.


He's not a hoarder, but he does keep things - who doesn't? He's got clothes that don't fit, parts of hardware, cables for things we no longer have.... because, well, you never know...

"Look at all those bottles!" he marvelled.

"Not more than we go through in a couple of years", I said.

"200 pairs of shoes!" he exclaimed.

"I bet we've already close to that many. Each" I said.

We looked at empty toothpaste tubes, mismatched crockery, and a collection of nails. We saw row upon row of carrier bags, stacks of birdcages, and an empty pharmacy of pill boxes.

"Wow," I kept saying whilst examining the multitude of items in the gallery, "we have a lot of stuff!".

"Yeah", whispered Tall Guy, "look - we've got a mug like that. Now let's go - I need to clean out the closet".

We left, but the installation will be on our minds and in our conversation for some time to come.
Waste Not will be at the Curve Gallery until 12 June, and I just might go back. Tiptoeing around the gallery, snooping through the collection, was a disturbingly engrossing way of getting to know Song Dong's mother, and a disturbing reminder of exaclty how much stuff we have.

It was more than, as a sign explained, "a staging of the individual against the homogenisation of society brought about by the state." For us, it provoked thoughts of consumerism and waste. We have loads of posessions. We generate SO much garbage. We reuse the odd jar, donate our old clothes, and keep gadget-less cables on hand, but, for the most part, the things we use just end up in the trash. 

If you go, you might enjoy snooping through someone's things, quite shamelessly. You might end up inspired to clear out your flat. At the very least, you'll think twice before you toss the exhibition guide away - who knows? You might need that scrap of paper some day...

Tragicomedy

Tall Guy and I went to the movies the cinema on the weekend. We went twice. Here’s why:

A few weeks ago when we went to see War Horse (SO good, by the way, AND they passed out vouchers for a discount on the book!), we saw a preview for Coriolanus, a film-adaptation of Shakespeare’s good-ole mama’s boy political tragedy, complete with full-blown betrayal and incestuous undertones. 

“That looks good” Tall Guy said, just as I was saying, “Hmm, we should see that!”

(The trailer opens with a close-up of Ralph Fiennes’ face covered in blood and quickly flashes around to scenes of bombed-out Rome, tanks rolling down the highway, and Gerard Butler leading a band of machine-gun wielding men, also all a bit bloody. Why did I think we should see it? I like Shakespeare set in modern times, I like Vanessa Redgrave and I currently love Jessica Chastain.)

I was surprised that Tall Guy was interested. 

“It’s a film adaptation of Shakespeare…” I said.

“Look at all that blood!” he said. Or something like that.

And so, without further comment, we went to see it last Saturday.

“YOU TRICKED ME”, Tall Guy hissed, not five minutes in, “this is not even in ENGLISH”.

(Flashbacks to Billy Elliot, which Spanish Sistah thought was in French - we watched it in Canada.)

“I told you it was an adaptation, and you saw the trailer…” I started to say, then realized that while the trailer featured a lot of blood, it did not feature much talking. Ooops. Tall Guy watched wistfully as a dozen people left the cinema during the next 15 minutes. I guess the gore had dazzled more than one movie-goer. To remedy the situation (it was a good movie, but not exactly entertaining…), we saw Underworld 3D on Sunday night. The exact opposite of Coriolanus. Definitely not a good movie, but it did entertain.

All's well that ends well...

The Zillas

Or how to plan a wedding in 10 days

I’m back in London, baby! By this point in time, it should be obvious that I love (really, actually LOVE) London. It’s great. But, of course, I love Canada more. And that’s where I spent my Christmas holiday. Actually, it’s where I spent my Christmas holiday in a wedding-planning frenzy.

I did see family and friends. I did make merry and carol my heart out, wrap a bunch of presents with heaps of tape, stuff myself with goodies, and generally enjoy the season. But I also planned.  A lot.  Every. Single. Day.  And heading back to work, to a routine, is kind of relaxing… 

Day one: arrive home at 1am. Try on wedding dresses at 4pm.
Day two: wake up at 5 (time change, remember). Buy first wedding dress tried on yesterday at 9:15 am (I was there when the shop opened).
Days three, four and five: Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day. Lots of family time, and wedding chat. And, thanks to two wonderful, thoughtful and beautiful friends, a wedding organizer to help me from going completely insane!
Day six: Drive across the border to the Hobby Lobby. Arrive at 10am. Purchase invitation material at 10:06.
Day seven: Drive across the border once again, with three lovely ladies in tow, to choose bridesmaid dresses. Phew!

Tall Guy finally arrived, and dove headfirst into the planning. We checked out our reception venue and met with our coordinator. We went over cocktail platters and drink lists, looked at room configurations and chair covers. We met with the minister and picked out scripture for the ceremony. We asked a dear friend to sing a solo. We chose music. We made save the dates. We were given a photographer. We investigated hotels for our Spanish guests. We ogled limos. We checked out morning suits. We had an engagement party, with a lovely champagne toast from my brother. We chose a cake. We made lists. We checked things off.

Our nearest and dearest were thrilled to hear about our engagement, and have been so free with offers of help that, other than Tall Guy suggesting he would wear a bright red tie and rent a white hummer-limo, I have been without stress. If we had to get married next weekend, we could do it. Of course we argued a little and felt overwhelmed by decisions. Naturally, there were some tears (I may be a fiancée now, but I’m still me). And obviously, we’re knackered. But that’s ok.

A wedding is a celebration of love, and we have been so loved during the past few weeks it’s indescribable. 

So the Zillas, both Bride and Groom, who slept the whole way home, and who feel very organized and very, very loved, just want to say thanks to everyone who made our time in Canada so wonderful.

We love you, too.

place me like a seal over your heart

Pioneer Day

It’s cold. 10 degrees. I’m wearing a toque, woolly socks and a few layers of hard-core thermal hiking gear. 

Oh, and did I mention I am INSIDE???

Yes folks, for our first “real” cold days of the year, our boiler stopped working. We called our landlord right away, and he arranged for a “boiler engineer” (these Brits really love their engineers) to come fix it. He came yesterday, but he couldn’t find a parking space, so he left. (This was despite Tall Guy pointing out several very good parking spaces up the street, and trying to flag him into one as if he were guiding an airplane down a runway.) 

“Sorry, we’ll have to reschedule”. 

Fine. We rescheduled. For this morning, at 7! And, wouldn’t you know, he called at 6:15, to let us know he was on his way…

Who wouldn’t call two chilly customers, who had been left in the lurch yesterday, before the crack of dawn to let them know the appointment was still on, after having confirmed the appointment at 10 the night before? 

Anyway, he came. He saw. He pottered about. And somehow, as if by magic… he made it worse.

No heat, no hot water. At all.

Zip.

            ZERO.

                         ZILCH! 

And that is how it came to pass that Tall Guy and I are playing pioneers (well, modern pioneers – I’m holed up in the bedroom with an electric heater and my laptop, but I am wearing a quilt as a cape). This morning it was almost funny making breakfast with gloves on and heating water on the stove so Tall Guy could shave.

Almost.

But as Tall Guy says, “A cold water shower in the morning is a little bit too much refreshing for winter time”.

Agreed!

He said, she said

He said, "Will you marry me?"

                  She said, "YES!"

Monster Match

or, Happy Halloween from the FrankenTalls!

On Saturday we went to a Halloween party. I was pretty excited – our first house party in London, AND a costume party to boot! AND on my favourite night of the year to go out – the night we put the clocks back an hour! Of course this depends on what country we happen to be in… Anyway, we were home around two, which was actually one again. Hooray!

My costume inspiration came from a Bride of Frankenstein picture I saw at work last week. I created my own version of this classic monster with draping black clothes (I knew that crazy old shirt would come in handy one day!) and a whole lot of mousse and hairspray. I searched online for ways to create BoF hair and rejected the following ideas:a professional wig; plain gelatine; hair extensions. I finally came across something useful – the original hairdo was created by sticking her hair over a chicken wire frame. Genius! I didn’t have any chicken wire (nor the desire to think about removing said wire from my hair after the party), but I did have a lot of Velcro hair rollers. Hmmm… Hello, volume!

Tall Guy was not so sure about the costume part... Costumes were optional, so at first he wasn’t going to wear one. But then he saw my fabulous hair and lovely fake stitches, and decided maybe a costume would be fun after all. He decided this about 20 minutes before we were due to leave for the par-tay. (Men.)

Anyway, I was so thrilled about not being Jilted Bride of Frankenstein that I dove straight into the closet to look for a costume.

“Not too weird” he made me promise (I promised - he hates leaving the house with messy hair, and it was his first official Halloween, after all…). A dark shirt, a grey suit coat, a few eyeliner stitches and a dash of silver eye makeup was all I needed to create my modern FrankenTall.

We took the tube to the party, and to Tall Guy’s amazement (and relief), there were other people in costume en route to parties. And of course we were not the only ones at the party who had come in costume: The hostess with the most-est was Meryl Streep from Death Becomes Her. Chippy came as a vampire. A Black Swan ballerina (complete with creepy red eye lenses), a ghost ship, witches, cats and numerous zombies also came out for the fun.

A terror-iffic par-tay!

What is in Chinese hairspray?

Here it is, a picture of the back of my head, as per Tall Mom’s request. 

This was my do for the latest wedding. My hairdresser (who is Chinese, hence the question) went in a completely different direction from October, when the focus was on big hair. This time the focus was on the feathery fascinator (“We will make hair a bird would love to fly into”). 

It held up well – this pic was taken 12 hours later, post- afternoon in 35C, reception in blowing AC and hours of dancing!