Milk & Manolos

I’m so glad January is almost over. Bored with it’s greyness of January, I’ve decided to start planning Spring / Summer 2008.  It’s a safety mechanism - the longer I dwell on the frugality of January, the more likely I am to slip into a post-festive depression.  So fixing my sights firmly on sunny days, I’m collating my online mood card so when the time comes I’m ready, willing and able.

First on my list are Miu Miu’s metallic ballet pumps.  A snippet at just £ 265, but as ever my theory is to aim for the stars and settle with the odd firework or two.  Give it time and they’ll be High Street versions a go-go.  See, it pays to plan … 

It’s inevitable.  There will be a time when we’re caught short.  The Munchkin wants entertaining, and like NOW Mummy.  The hours I’ve spent in restaurants, waiting rooms and on one occasion, a car showroom where Madam has descended into meltdown.  I mean, who can blame her ?  There’s only so long you can sit in a stationary Mini, buffed to within an inch of it’s life, putting dirty hand marks here, there and everywhere and flicking every switch and pushing every button. Happening most frequently at out favourite eateries the Husband and I have coined a term for it … restaurant stagnation.  And be careful, it can happen to adults too. You can imagine my joy, not to mention amusement having stumbled over the Momemergency Kit.   Hardly rocket science, I can’t believe another enterprising individual hasn’t thought of it before now.

Full to the brim of activities for small people ready, willing and able for the moment you need them.   The slight bore is shipping it in from the States and great expense, but a brilliant present, if only to yourself. Failing that, it can inspire you to create your own.

The Husband is trying to get me to go on a camping holiday.  I fear he doesn’t know me very well.This ain’t any old camping holiday, but a week in a Tipi in deepest darkest Cornwall.  I have to admit there is a part of me that’s slightly tempted.  I could take my aromatherapy oils and dream catcher, and be at one with nature while cooking baked beans over a small camping stove. It’s all very Legends of the Fall.

I’ve only camped twice before, neither trips being what I would describe as successful.  The first time I discovered the delights of the outdoors was the summer of 1986.  Sarah Ferguson had just married Prince Andrew and I was on a camping tour of Wales with my father and brother, visiting various closed coal mines along the way.  The dirt and the smell of smoke fumes didn’t mix well with my reversible Mickey Mouse jumper.

The second was in a car park in Wiveliscombe in 1992, in a vein attempt to secure a Duke of Edinburgh Gold medal.  As I patiently waited the 27 minutes it took to heat water for my cup-a-soup I managed to devour the entirety of my Kendal Mint Cake.  Let me tell you, it wasn’t a happy combination.  I emerged from my tent the next morning following what I can only describe as a re-birthing experience, the walls of the tent contracting angrily in the wind in the hope to expel me with gusto.  Needless to say I vowed then and there that I would never camp again.

So am I prepared to give it a go 2008 stylie with Husband, Munchkin and dream catcher in tow ?  I figure enough water has travelled under the bridge for me to extend the hand of friendship again to the great outdoors.  If it happens however, they’ll be one hell of a rider.

I admit I know little about money, apart from the fact I like it.  Interest rates, ISA’s and all that technical jargon flies effortlessly over my head.

Having got myself into the inevitable financial trouble that tempts every early twenties singleton, I began, with the help of some learned friends, to draw up a budget and try everso hard to stick to it.  

When someone suggested signing up to moneysavingexpert.com I was there in a shot and quite frankly haven’t looked back.  From reclaiming bank fees (and there were lots to reclaim) to advice on car insurance, health insurance, credit cards and utlity bills to name but a few, I devour the weekly newsletter with gusto.  This weekly visitor to my inbox has helped save us a fortune … 

Having yet again worn my Ugg Boots throughout the winter (may I say at this juncture, the 4th in a row) many would say I’m horribly unfashionable, needing closure on my fluffy friends and ought to find something a little more AW 07/08. They wouldn’t be wrong, but judging by the many Uggtastical disciples I see simply popping out to get some milk, I know I’m not alone, and that, well, there’s safety in numbers.

I’m now debating weither the Munchkin should be Ugged up also.  They comfy, and would work everso well with the drain pipe jeans she’s currently refusing to wear, but are they suitable for her 27 months ?  I worry about the ankle support aspect. Aren’t they essentially slippers ?  While I debate this small detail I did consider however that it would be down right rude not to forward this special offer I’ve just found to y’all … 

I seem to have an abundance of children’s clothes.  A very fortunate position I know, but considering that at least 87% of the are too small for the Munchkin, or simply not to her rather exacting taste, not quite so fortuitous on closer inspection.

Praise the Lord for Vacuum Storage bags.  Having invested in more than is frankly healthy, I now have the solution to our storage problems.

Divided into age groups the Munchkins clothes have been vacuum packed within an inch of their lives and packed diligently by the Husband in the eves. The only question that remains is will he remember where he put them ? 

This morning I’ve woken with two huge mounds on my face.  Red, angry mounts at that, and more than a little sore.  Resisting the thoroughly natural urge to squeeze, poke and prod I’m rising above it and reminding myself that big girls don’t cry.  

Fortuitously I have my Revlon Skinlights close to hand, my magical foundation. I admit that I’m not the most diligent user of foundation, finding it’s pinky residual on my mobile phone more than a bit annoying, however following a recent article in a glossy confirming that foundation is the basis of any decent looking face, I’ve decided to go back to my old favourite.

More like a tinted moisturiser, this helps to even out the skin tone without looking too heavy a mandatory requirement of any foundation I own. Adding a slight sheen (do not fear, it’s the most flattering kind, I promise) it really does give your visage the glow of the healthy and wealthy.  Better still, at only £ 9.99 and available at all good chemists, there’s not schlepping into town to track it down.

One of the things that attracted me to the Husband was his left-handedness.  I had spent the majority of my childhood wishing I were cackhanded.  It was the special scissors they used to dish out to those more fortunate than I.  They had yellow handles and they rocked.

So when the Husband went to sign the bill at the end of our first date, I was in seventh heaven.  My becoming left-handed by proxy was difficult for us both.  He of course had coped pretty well for the 26 years he hadn’t known me, I on the other hand (no pun intended) had other ideas.

Within a month I had purchased a number of left-hand items I was sure would improve his life.  From can openers, to rulers, scissors to pencil sharpeners, each was met with utter indifference.  He was used to a right handed world and would I please cease and desist with the purchasing of useless twaddle, and by the way, no, he didn’t want to join the Left Handed Club I had found for him.

I of course obliged as any loving girlfriend would.  I still marvel at his left hand but now find more amusement in what the right can’t do. 

As my favourite hobby is spending money, how could I resist the weird and wonderful world of auction houses ?  

Setting up home with the Husband was most enjoyable, on a number of levels, the first admittedly was that we were kindred spirits in more ways than one.  This was the joining of two consumeristic individuals to make a wholly shop happy couple.   Having bought the house of our dreams we set a little extra mortgage money aside to go on the mother of all shopping sprees.  

We of course hit all our usual hot spots but were advised by many a elder to check out the local auction houses for bargains galore.  The rest they say is history.  Not only do you get the enjoyment of a view, finding the weird and the wonderful but you also get the thrill of the chase too.  

There is always the danger that you could get carried away.  A lesson I learnt pretty early on.  Having decided to bid on a Venetian armoire destined to be white washed and shabby chiced, I of course forgot all about our budget, or the charges added on top and secured the piece at well over what it was worth.  It sat in our living room, unpainted, untouched and quite frankly a little unloved, until we decided that ebay was the only answer.  

Making a smidgeon of a profit it was happy days.  It wasn’t until the new owners were carrying it out that I saw the ‘Made in China’ sticker on the back.  Hastily removed, a bullet well dodged. Having now found our groove, Criterion Auctions is our regular haunt when a piece or two is needed.  Rare these days but it’s fun to window shop… 

Smell is important, there’s no doubting that.  I know this from person experience, as anyone who has to squeeze onto the 08.03 to Waterloo will tell you.  I can literally buckle at the knees at first sniff of the great unwashed.  True, it’s a rare occurrence during commuter hours but thereafter we’re all fair game.  These people can come from nowhere, sitting next to you or making like a sardine by your side in the over packed carriage, smelling like something the cat dragged in.  Ugh, particularly bad on hang over days.

Priding myself on smelling sweetly at all moments, I always carry my Kisu perfume with me.  I love it so, I simply don’t want to stop breathing in.  Of course I do, because that would be plain stupid and purple isn’t such a good look in the face department.  My handy handbag size atomiser can also help deodorise those nearest and smelliest with the careful use of spritzing, particularly useful on public transport.  Now EVERYONE smells lovely.