Yes. A rare and wondrous treat.
Huhuhuhuhu : Freedom is miiiiine !
I cannot get over it.
The Do – Despair, hangover & ecstasy :
I wrote this post exactly two years ago : Mister Nice and I were on a break, but on the verge of giving things another go.
This is when I met a certain Mr Xmas.
(Slight nod, raised eyebrows, big sigh: )
Yup, here we go again: Men.
Lady E has succumbed to the latest episode of her very own, personal soap opera, starring Mr Nice, and Mr Xmas, who like the proverbial busses could not come one after the other at the appointed time, because that just would not be fun, would it?
Lady E (forlorn and pouting): So here I am, trying to see through a fog of baggage, and fear what may be the reality of two potential relationships (I am spoilt, really).
Enter Mr Nice, my stomach somersaults all the way through my skull, before crashing back into place, leaving me drooling and lobotomised. Sounds attractive, doesn’t it ? Let’s say that it doesn’t quite capture how attracted I feel to Mr Nice…
But – what did you think, of course there is a but – Mr Nice still has commitment issues – now, that’s a f***ing surprise !!
Enter, Mr Xmas, who is lovely, has no commitment issues, and whose heart is wide open for me. I haven’t known him for that long, but long enough to know that we get along, and are on the path to becoming great friends. However, for as long as Mr Nice is around, there is no room for more as it were…
Voice of reason: Ok, so easy, then. Mr Nice must go. Give Mr Xmas a chance.
Lady E (bangs head on nearest wall): Ow, it actually hurts. Bastard.
Of course, I ignored the voice of reason… And of course you know the end of this particular story…
(Slight nod, raised eyebrows, eye roll)
Tove Lo – Habits (to be blasted really, really loud and danced to, preferably in a kitchen, with a dear friend)
Have you ever known that something was probably a very bad idea, yet been unable to resist it ?
Well, despite the fact that I will be 39 in a month, and should really know better, I have. Well done me.
Luckily, I now have a week off to clear my head, and get back to reality…
Want to feel French and a bit wild ? Listen to this :
M – Le Mojo
…And happened to be anywhere near the French Alps this weekend, then you almost certainly were at the Musilac festival in Aix-les bains.
Being a single mum of two, and research project manager is almost certainly not cool by a long shot, but I was there anyway, as a sort of under-cover agent for the un-cool, having the best fun in a long -actually make that very long- time.
Now, for my observations of the cool crowds:
My highlights included:
Anyway, today, I woke up at midday and had a breakfast of cold churros and squashed left-overs crisps. Now, if that isn’t rock’n roll, I don’t know what is.
Ok, so remember how if all the advice you’ve been given to cope with heartbreak fails, there’s always chocolate?
Here’s something to get you started:
Traditional French chocolate mousse (makes enough for 6)
The secret to this mousse is to use the best chocolate you can find, and by best, I don’t mean most expensive, or with a sky-high cocoa content, but one which contains only cocoa, cocoa butter, sugar and lecithin. I generally use Nestlé dessert or Meunier cooking choc, which you can find in most UK supermarkets.
You might also want to use really fresh eggs to avoid making Mousse à la Campylobacter/Salmonella. Unless of course, you are cooking for people you deeply dislike, your ex for example… Just saying.
Preparation time: 10 minutes + a couple of hours in the fridge
How to make it:
Note that because the eggs are raw, the mousse doesn’t keep for more than 24h, unless you are serving it to people you deeply dislike (see above). In my experience though, the mousse rarely survives its first serving.
There. Really easy, and when you feel comfortable with the basic recipe, you can start experimenting, adding candied citrus peels, Bailey’s, or nuts. Let me know how it turns out!
Right, once you’ve downed the whole bowl of mousse, you may also want to reflect on life, and the universe. Seriously, all the people who got over heartbreak fast have one thing in common: They took a long, honest look at themselves
Long, honest look at oneself (makes enough for one)
Preparation time: Anything from weeks to years. Yes, I know, how remarkably unhelpful isn’t it? Don’t thank me.
How to make it:
Things that bring a smile to your face (makes enough for a bus-full of people, a double-decker, if you’re feeling generous)
Preparation time: Five minutes each day to plan + a few seconds, minutes, hours to enjoy the results
How to do it:
PS. If you are scaring yourself, or feeling like topping yourself off a lot, then firstly don’t do it, it’s totally last season. Secondly, seek professional help. Not kidding. A lot of us know just how despite being invisible, the pain of heartbreak can be absolutely unbearable. Don’t try to bear it alone. Pretty please.
Right, I don’t know what you are doing tonight, but I’ve got both my smurfs back under one roof (mine), a fridge full of left-overs, and a big week of work ahead after a fairly up and down weekend. I am listening to Rover.
Rover – Tonight:
My little girl has been refusing to touch her veg for the last 15 minutes, and now bored, is climbing down from the same bench backwards.
The big boy is making farting noises, and wants to get down from the table, while my big boy is nowhere to be seen…
I find him sprawled on the sofa, and yell at him to get back to the table at once. He whines something about needing to rest because his calf muscles are stiff, and I start counting to five in my most menacing tone.
He gets back to the table, where my friend is yelling at her girl, who smeared food all over herself .
My friend and I roll our eyes across the table, and mumble something about selling our kids on ebay. It is lunchtime on Wednesday, and we are officially having a Bad Muvvas’ day.
Don’t get me wrong, we both love our children, and I dare say our lives would just not make sense without them. But on days like these, we just wish for some peace, a bit of adult conversation, and not having to watch out for sandwich content ending up in our hair.
I wistfully dream about being careless, carefree, and generally able to go wild.
For now, my friend and I sit in the sun, and share a rebellious cigarette.
PS. For all of you wanting to go wild, or just in need of a good R&R fix, here’s Skip the use and their perfect Give me your life. Enjoy!
The sun is on my neck, and I feel incredibly drowsy.
After ten days apart, Mr Nice and I have been errr … catching up this week, and seeing each other every spare minute that work, kids and life left us, which means very few daytime minutes and world-class bags under our eyes.
I am also feeling curiously torn between two diametrically opposed aspects of my personality.
On the one hand, in case you had any doubts, I am a highly
dull, anxious and responsible adult, holding down a demanding job and caring for two little kids day-in, day-out. All my life I have pretty much been a good, sensible girl, indulging in only the rarest bouts of pure lunacy mild extravagance.
However, the demented teenager in me got let loose about a year ago, and has been rattling the cage ever since. At times, my responsibilities still feel way too heavy for one person, and I feel a compelling urge to abdicate, go mad and have mindless, selfish fun.
Where it gets even funnier, is that the demented teenager has to co-habitate with the anxious, responsible adult who is currently preoccupied with finding a zillion good reasons to not under-any-circumstances-fall-for Mr-Nice-however-nice-he-is-ha.
I tell you what, there’s a fair bit of door slamming and I-hate-yous going on in my mind at the moment…
Still, you will be pleased to know that so far, the anxious, responsible adult is still winning, and that my children have been spared the embarrassment of a mum wearing inch thick eye liner, getting loaded and clubbing every night…
Though on reflection, I may still have to wear some glittery eye shadow and dance like a maniac while I cook dinner tonight.
This is my current demented teenager dance anthem, to be listened to loud and with a LOT of bass:
The potbelleez – From the music