So, what a weekend!

This is a flattering photo of neither of us, but I fancy I look a tad better

James’ friend, Devan, came over Friday night, which was also James’ birthday, and we went up to Linda’s (J’s mum) house for steak (awesome!) and James was basically a total ass the WHOLE time.. I don’t know if he was acting up because his friend was there (he’s not a toddler, I swear), or was just excited for snowboarding the next day, but either way, I was absolutely dreading the rest of the night. When we got home, the boys had gone and bought 3 bottles each of this super strong cider, and James hadn’t packed anything. He whined loads, but eventually we all settled down on the sofa (it’s a big sofa….)


and ended up having a really freaking fun evening! See, Devan does photography stuff, and product design at Uni, so he has awesome gadgets (I have a desperate need for an iPad Pro…) and so we got on really well having geeky chats about photography. The boys got more and more drunk, and as I wasn’t drinking, I laughed my head off. Plus, hilarious snapchats. Overall, it was really not as bad as I thought it might have been, and now I’ve learned that I should be a bit less uptight over stuff like that and relax first.


We were in bed by half midnight, and they were up at 4:30…out the door by 4:50! Off to France for a week of snowboarding, alcohol, and pizza (and apparently Danish girls doing the splits…. o.O)

He really is such a dick…

I, on the other hand, had something to attend to. I had to meet my dad’s girlfriend. Long story short, my dad had a midlife crisis, cheated on my mum with a 28yr old (I was 22 at the time, I think) and contrary to what everyone said would happen, is still with her. My parents’ divorce was finalised over Christmas, and by happy accident, my dad’s gf (her name is Helen, which is unhelpfully also the name of my aunt (my dad’s sister, who he lives with)) was here this weekend. And I somehow ended up agreeing to meet her.


I thought this might be a bad idea for a few reasons, not least being that if James wasn’t here then I couldn’t depend on his particular brand of humour to cheer me up, and also that he couldn’t be there too to drive me home when I got myself drunk in order to cope. This therefore meant that I a) couldn’t drink, and b) had to make sure that I was mentally capable of coping on my own. So, I made preparations.


See above. This is my plan. I don’t know about everyone else, but I feel infinitely better when I have my “warpaint” on. Rightly or wrongly, I feel better in makeup, and when my hair is done, and I have my nails sorted. I feel prepared, and I feel like me. If I haven’t got my nails painted, I feel weird. It has been (as you can see) some time since I did my roots, but I wanted to have my lilac hair back, so I did that in the morning on Saturday. It had been a weird bluey-yellow-grey which was…well, weird.


I painted my nails (well, I painted a false set and stuck them on), and I made sure I did my makeup with an old Lancome palette that I know always goes on well. I used my new MAC foundation that seems to go on amazingly, match perfectly, and stay put (I have yet to try it under testing conditions, but for now I’m in love), and made sure my eyelashes were ready to kill. I wore my new Jo Malone perfume that fills me with happiness and calm everytime I breathe it in, and my H&M jumper that I was so happy to be able to wear in a size S. In short, I put on my armour, pulled up my big girl panties, swore under my breath that I was an adult and that this would need to happen eventually, and drove to dinner.

Long story short, she’s exactly what I expected, and I’m still creeped out by her age (more specifically, the age difference between me and her, and the fact she should be my SISTER not my potential step mother), but I feel I managed perfectly reasonable conversation, I chatted and smiled, and tried not to pretend that she wasn’t there. I painted my aunt’s nails, grumbled that James was on holiday and I wasn’t, and then left at about 22:30 because that’s a reasonable time to be in bed.


When I got home (had to totally defrost the inside and outside of the car, and had to pop into Tesco for loo roll) I made my bed (after discovering that the white, 100% Egyptian cotton fitted bedsheet delivered from Amazon was in fact a white, polycotton double duvet set, and subsequently contacting them to have them sort this out), lit the candle, removed all makeup, got into clean (Harry Potter) pyjamas, and laid there ignoring everything and just focusing on my breathing.


I managed a whole 8 hours of sleep, and then transferred myself to the sofa for a duvet day of wrestling with Photoshop (it won the battle, but I will not let it win the war), and then watching film after film, and ordering Dominos because I wanted it.


Weekend rating overall: 5/10, do not recommend. Also, I do NOT like sleeping on my own. James needs to get his butt back home.


Happy New Year!

I had a whole post planned about Christmas, which is somewhere in my drafts I suppose?

Anywhere, as New Years go…this was a bit chaotic.

James and I went to my colleague’s house party, where there were meant to be quite a few people, but it ended up being just 8 of us, which was a bit odd (very quiet for a house party!). Her husband was already super drunk, and just got more and more so throughout the night! It was all chaotic, but all in all, a good night. They had 3 of those sky lanterns, but the only one that was successfully launched was the one that I did… The other two, well, 1 got a hole in, the other was set on fire…and nearly burned someone’s hair off! I kicked someone in the face (they were pulling on my heel and I just reacted instinctively!) and made their nose bleed super badly, and James got touched up and had a proper moment with our host’s husband! It was hilarious, and I’m glad we went.

There ends the amusement.

We got home at 1:30 (pretty light for a night out!) and went straight to bed. I’d noticed that one of our friends, Morgan, had removed himself from our Cartagena Reunion Facebook group, but I assumed it was an accident, and didn’t think anything of it. Then, I woke up this morning and on my timeline is a post from Morgan saying…well…saying he’s had enough really. That his life has been so awful over the past year (it genuinely has) and that he can’t cope anymore. This was at about midnight, and then he disappeared off the face of the earth. Everyone is trying to find him, loads of posts about it, and long story short, he was eventually found at about 13:15 today. He was fine, not in a good mental state, but good enough that he was checked over at the hospital and now two of his friends have brought him home. We’re all going to back off so he’s not inundated (I bet his phone will be blowing up when he eventually turns it on), but it’s really made me think about life.

I know it’s a total cliché, but stuff like that really does make you think. We’re all meant to be going to Manchester this weekend to go out for the night and then do go-karting on the Sunday. It’s a meet-up for Garage 5 from the Cartagena track day. We all became so close over those 3 days, and I’ll be forever grateful we met.

Life has a funny way of kicking you up the butt. I never used to do anything; I never went out, I would sit at home on my laptop, or my phone, or reading, and I would never do anything sociable. I’d occasionally meet a close friend, or go out with family, but not often. Since meeting James, all of that has changed. I have a wider friendship group, I’ve made friends with these people on my own! I’m in a job I enjoy, and I chose to go out with them instead of sitting around doing nothing. I go with James to trackdays and make friends with the people there.

All this with Morgan this morning? It’s made me realise how important it is for me to live my life, to see my friends, and to tell people how much they mean to me. I don’t want to be sat there again thinking “But I was just going to say how much I was looking forward to seeing them”. It’s all well and good all these people turning round and saying how much Morgan means to them now, but it would have been even better if we had all been paying better attention to the signs he gave that things weren’t right, and then offered help or support.

Go out, tell your friends they matter to you. Sure, you might get a few funny looks, or someone saying you’re being soppy, but for one of the people you talk to, that may have just been the difference between them giving up, or reaching out.


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