(Jessica)- "Can brains hurt?", "Yes it's hypochondria hour".

I feel like every time I write a blog post I say, "it's been a while", or "I'm terrible at this". So, whilst still acknowledging these two facts, I relaunch our blog for the umpteenth time and say, happy December 14th! The day everyone knows as the day Adrian II began his reign as the Catholic Pope in 867. Let's give it up for Adrian II! A memorable day it was, the food was amazing, although I wasn't a fan of the punch.

How are you my little (in size, not age) lost sister in the wilderness? How have you manage to sustain yourself without one of my bitter diatribes for you to laugh at?! Well, buckle up. As I am now a student of a particular course, I have to watch what I say and anonymise everything! But there are some things that have to be said, some things that can't be unseen and for that, I must share. May I just say that I never want to see a dead man's gluteal crease or natal cleft ever again (I wonder how many people say that in a lifetime). If you don't already know what those things are, ask a responsible parent or guardian. Oh, and try NOT staring at the box of detached feet in a lecture, that's a fun game.

As I sit here in my uncomfortable chair, I think... What can I say? Typically over the years I have mocked my pitiful attempt at dating or all of my unfortunate interactions with the opposite sex, but now I'm in an official relationship (please pipe down, I can't hear over the stunned silence) I have no material. No people to make fun of, no awkward interactions where I can unleash the chained beast that is my Sass. I kid you not, K (my boyfriend, obviously you know that but I like reminding myself that he is real), little sis and I were in the car on the way home from church and we were talking about sassiness. K said that I wasn't really sassy, just sarcastic. What happened?! Where did Sassy McSasserson go? Am I tamed so easily? Little sis put him right pretty quickly, which made me laugh as she said, "Ummm... that's where I get it from!". So proud. 

I feel like this blog will give me a chance to exorcise McSass, in an attempt to become possessed again. She makes me funny. Hmm.. on another note, I think it's a really great sign that not only am I talking about being possessed by another persona, but I am also making reference to a possible multiple personality situation and she already has a name. Hooray for making strides becoming a more balanced individual. We can all laugh about this later, as we sit in the corner laugh-crying and eating our hair.

Speaking of which, Anxiety group sessions. Can we talk about that? I was sitting in a psychology lecture as my professor sat there on his sit/standing perch (why can't they just get a chair like normal people? They always perch, like a spectacle in the 'Flying Predators' hour at the zoo) telling me how ineffectual group sessions are for people with Anxiety! Well, thank goodness I was sitting down for that shocking little tidbit. Phew, I'm telling you, the revelation was real. Yet, I attended them for a month! You know when someone's looking at you, but you're not arrogant enough to admit to yourself that someone's looking at you? Well, someone was full on staring at me in the last anxiety session. I couldn't decide whether it was because I had something on my face or because I was sitting by the window, but either way, there was a little crazy unblinking thing happening so I decided to leave quickly after we finished because I didn't want to have a picture sent to Mum and Dad of me holding that day's newspaper. Rooms with no windows don't flatter my complexion at all.

I had a dream last night that I was a Vet for animals with emotional and mental health problems. I had a suicidal Turtle, a Giraffe with postnatal depression, her calf with Anorexia and an Autistic Crocodile. Perhaps I shouldn't revise psychology whilst watching the Yorkshire Vet before bed, eh? Wise words. As we are on the subject of wise words... have you given any thought to what you'll have on your headstone? I want some ideas for both yours and mine. I feel like they should be an in-joke of some description.

I feel like as I write my memoirs, the main battle doesn't come from expressing myself (first time for everything, yes I know). The battle lies in re-telling events as they actually happened and then my inner monologue which is usually a near-constant stream of sarcasm. More importantly, the real struggle lies in the grammar between the two, brackets are real. Grammar in general actually, let's be real. Why fight between punctuation flicks, lines and dots. Let the speech flow as free and as muddled as it is in my head, and how it falls, confused, from my face.

With this parting thought, I leave you decrepit and old, as it is now actually December 17th...Time travel eh? Mindblown.

Love you,

Formerly known as, McSass

(Rachel) My life is like the hokey cokey: “…and you shake it all about”

This is what I thought when I was exercising this morning. Now, I am not going to make this post about all the weight that I don’t have because…we all hate THAT guy. But, what I will say, is that I am not the most toned person in the world…no one will be bouncing quarters off of my stomach. As such, I do notice, especially when doing Zumba with Isaac (he’s a real pro, that boy), when my shaking movements of my body are disproportionately vigorous to the efforts I’m putting in, if you know what I mean. Like…you do a little shimmy and your tummy or thighs are still shimmying 10 minutes later, of their own accord. You know?

As I was doing said Zumba, I allowed my mind to wander back to all the dancing we used to do together. I’m no Darcey Bussell but, you know, we could move, right? I’m not imagining that. Well, all of that ability has left me. I was showing my Young Women the music video Jess Carr and I made at university. We looked pretty good. Yet, somehow, having a baby has made me incapable of dancing. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the hokey cokey is all I CAN do.

At this point, I was going to bring in my awesome analogy but perhaps I will wait for another day.

On the subject of exercise, the other week, I went to the church’s annual football and netball competition. Now, I am no netballer. I have recently become friends on facebook with one of my high school PE Teachers, which is great but…when I was playing netball, I couldn’t help but see her in my mind’s eye teaching us how to pivot...brought back A LOT of memories about how awful I was! Anyway. I wish I had a photo to show you of the clothes I wore to this thing. I wore a dusky pink t shirt and my super baggy, navy, mens Washington DC tracksuit bottoms. I actually left the house feeling pretty sporty. I am only 24 years old, but since I was last at a sport event, sport fashion has changed a lot. Upon my arrival, I realised that I had clearly missed the memo about cropped lycra capri things. It seemed like every peer of mine was wearing these things. And all of them looked convincingly athletic and gorgeous. You can imagine how I felt in men’s tracksuit bottoms, can’t you.

When we came home, I said to Ieuan “Did I look hideous in my clothes today?” He said “You could never look hideous. Your tracksuit bottoms were a bit frumpy though.” (poor things) I love my husband because he does not flatter me by telling my falsehoods. He flatters me by understanding my point of view. He knew exactly what I meant! So. Armed with this knowledge, I am determined to get me some of these, So that, next time someone flings me out of my comfort zone and into the shooting zone of the netball court, I can at least look cute.

Another word or two on netball. I was Goal Shooter, because, usually, I am a pretty good shot. My hand-eye coordination is pretty good, you know? Anyway. I was TERRIBLE. At one point, the umpire (who, incidentally, was also sporting these lycra capris) told me to take my time shooting. I thought I had suddenly misunderstood the rules. “Don’t you have 3 seconds to shoot once you have the ball” I asked a team mate. “Yup”, came the reply. TAKE YOUR TIME?? Was she JOKING??

In short. Netball isn’t really my scene. I can do a bit of tennis for fun. I can shoot some hoops for fun. You know, I’m actually pretty good at kicking a rugby ball too. Leigh Halfpenny might even be a teeny bit impressed.  At school, the thing I was best at was softball or rounders. I could hit it and I could catch. But, I have decided that if it’s for anything more serious than fun, move along, cos I ain’t your girl.

I’ve written the following song about my recent sporting endeavours and how I feel about the impeachment of tracksuit bottoms.

“Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,

No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.

It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.

Yeah, it’s pretty clear, Mine aren’t the same as you

But I can pivot pivot, like I’m supposed to do.

I’ve got that netball that all the girls chase, and all wrong clothes in all the wrong places.

You see these pretty girls, working that capris look? We all know that ain’t real, come on now make it stop. If you want sporty sporty, let’s raise it up cos every inch of you is perfect from your trackies to your top.

Yeah, the Umpire, she told me when shooting to “take your time”.

(If three seconds is ages then life is a pantomime)

You know I won’t be no lycra-clad Olympic athlete

But I’d like for my trackies to not be so obsolete.

Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,

No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.

It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.

I’m bringing trackies BACK!

Go ahead and tell those skinny capris that…

Although I’m playing, I am NOT all that,

And I’m here to tell you every skill of yours is perfect from your pivot to your shot.

Yeah, the Umpire, she told me when shooting to “take your time”.

(If three seconds is ages then life is a pantomime)

You know I won’t be no lycra-clad Olympic athlete

But I’d like for my trackies to not be so obsolete.

Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,

No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.

It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.”

(Jessica)- My life is the Hokey Cokey. All in, and all out.

Endless emails from fans and readers all over the world have brought Rachel and I to our knees. We have caved to pressure (which usually is a bad thing, not here though. Kids, the principle still stands. Don't forget, JUST SAY NO.)
...Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, the confusing and nonsensical sister blog has returned.

Dearest Fruity,

Where to even begin? It would seem we are more adult than ever now. You have an actual fruit of your loins, instead of calling me loiny you have a legitimate reason to do that to someone else now. How exciting.
So for all of you people out there that are a little confused about this, Rachel now has a son called Is. I have been away on a mission. No, not top secret...gosh you people. A service mission for my church. I taught people about my belief and faith in God for about 18 months. Crazy right? Wrong. Well, no, you're right. It was crazy brilliant. *sigh* I digress. SO lots has happened since we last typed.


I usually update you with all of my embarrassing experiences... and I have so many. So buckle up love, hold onto your hats and anything else you'd like to secure as we take a grand tour of my life as a returned missionary.
I have had to get back into practice of being normal again, my main problem with this is winking. My wink is a little rusty. I was home for one week, tried it in the mirror and determined that I looked like a horse with a rare corneal disease. So needless to say this has caused for some serious practice, intense drills (one eye open, one eye shut, rapid eye reps etc) and eye-lid massages. I am happy to report on this day, this wonderful April day, that I am ready to unleash the winkwinker. I will use it. Who knows were, who knows when...but BAM! It'll happen. I'll keep you updated.

There comes an age in one's life where she is called up to serious reflection on her marital status, by the general public. The General Public, let's call them GP to make it easier, the GP... feel the need to remind you of the fact that you may become a menace to society if you aren't married, or engaged, or seeing someone... or even dating. Well GP, I have some news...big news. I am dating. YEP! Breathe it in people. Feels good doesn't it? I am dating myself. Wait, wait. Let me explain before the thundering sound of eye-rolls deafen me. People are complicated. I, myself am a sphinx (I'll be honest Rachel I have no idea what that means. I think it's some Egyptian bear statue, but it sounds mysterious so run with me for a minute). I have no clue what I am about so I think I need to take this time to work out who I am, before I put someone else's ingredients into the mix. It'll take a flippin' pro chef to crack this recipe anyway so whomever he is - he needs a few years of warm up stretches before he can break this cookie. Now, having lost myself in my own analogies, I'll attempt to re-group. Ah yes, I was being a menace...so what else is new?

I like hugs as much as the next socially awkward 21 year old, but I  had no idea just how varied hugs can get. But I have experienced it all , so let me report the array of PDosAbuAoitrtA (Public Displays of sometimes Awkward but usually Affectionate or in the realms thereof Affection ).
One Sided Bear- Someone is giving you all they've got... but they have also trapped your arms by your sides. You are either sad because you can't show them any affection back, or grateful because you don't want to. Like Voldemort and Draco.
Mutual Bear- Almost like you are trying to see who can choke-out who first. That, or you're trying not to seem wimpish as you feel most of the bones in your body do a decent impression of Rice Krispies.
Llama- Sometimes you are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Back to back, interlocking arms. Yes, I have experienced this one recently. But I think it's funnier if I don't share the details.
Especially for Youths and Awkward People with parentals present- The infamously lame side hug. I have nothing to say about this other than the fact that it is severely underwhelming. Although, sometimes there is just no hug more appropriate.
Some Up and Some Down- You are sitting on the sofa and someone hugs you before you can get up. Resulting in either a back-breaker or a quick head turn so you don't get a mouth-full of stomach.
Catch and Release- As little body contact as possible for as quick as possible, like shrapnel.
Taken 4- I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. But I will not let you escape, or move, or breathe. Forever a hostage, carried away by a stranger.
Meow and Purr- Sometimes you just have those moments where the inner cat takes over and you have to curl up on someone's lap. Depending on the moment and how well you know the person...this could get a little creepy. Especially, if you actually purr. I'm just saying. (DO NOT MENTION ELLA THE CAT. *sigh*...but now I feel like I have to explain...so I may or may not have spent a short amount of time utterly convinced that I was a cat. It's not uncommon.)
The Slow Cooker- Eventually softening every muscle in your body. Possibilities may include your brain and heart. These should come with a safety warning- "Users may find motor skills impaired and some speech dysfunction for a few minutes after use, especially depending on make and model of slow cooker."
I'm sure there are more, but at this present time I think I'm still recovering from the latter (let's blame my brain deficiencies on that...)

I hope you are having a good day my little Snafficus. Better than mine anyway. The person opposite me trod in a questionable substance and the office is like an oven. We have also missed out on our daily lunch time phone calls, so I failed to update you on the fact that in my shower today I coughed and inhaled water and shampoo, resulting in the near constant taste and smell of L'0real Elvive. Oy.
Buuuut, on the plus side I am obviously having a good day in the real world.

Love you,
your own little Monroe.

(Rachel) "That's a pretty colour! What is it?" "It's called Vicious Trollop"

Such an apt title for a post about mine and Ieuan's makeover/photoshoot experience.

So...Monday morning rolls around and we are excited! It's set to be a VIP day of luxury and excitement. An easy morning, packing a lovely picnic and filling our new MP3 player with exciting songs for our journey. Then, at midday we set off, with all the hope and giddiness of a child going to the zoo for the first time! First stop was the outlet centre- Clarks Village. I was especially excited for this because, as it was Birthday week, I was fully prepared to snag some delightful bargains in the name of Birthday Treats! When we arrived, mizzle was falling. Mizzle is a word which here means 'miserable drizzle'. A phrase coined by my husband, which perfectly describes that feeling when you look out of the car window and desperately hope that you aren't the one who is designated pay and display sorter-outer. You know? Anyway, the Mizzle wasn't a positive start. Our first stop was Starbucks for a warming hot chocolate. It was gross. Ieuan thinks it's because I had gum in my mouth at the time (a habit which I should probably get out of), but I beg to differ. It was un-sugared and un-milked and had that bitter but authentic taste of Mayan cocoa-beans. You know? You know. So...that was that. In the end, Ieuan and I struck a deal. In order to finish our not-very-nice hot choc, for each gulp I had, he would be brave and have 3. Soon, the thick, almost black dregs were sludging around in the bottom of the mug and we left for, hopefully, a more refreshing experience in the shops. Dodging the cold mizzle, we darted into the shop we wanted to spend the most time in. Fatface. After about 5 minutes in fatface, I began to feel like that child who's at the zoo for the first time, who's travelled for ages to get there but, on arrival, discovers the African animals section is closed and she has to content herself with the rabbits and guinea pigs. You know??? Unfortunately, the magic sale fairy forgot to wave the wand over Fatface. Though things were cheaper than in the normal shop, they were not cheap enough for us. We left with our tails between our legs. Ever optimistic me was soon excited for the next shop....and the next shop....and the next shop....we saw odd bits in odd shops but never really anything that made one Oooh and Ahhh.
Things did eventually work out for us. I got a lovely skirt from M&S for £5, a pair of skinny jeans in GAP for £6.99 and a new coat from Next for £17. Bargains! Ieuan got a couple of lovely tops from Next too. Very manly indeed. So, we were satisfied (I was rather pleased) but, on the whole, not entirely as incredible as we've experienceD before at outlet malls.

Next was our journey to our complimentary makeover/photoshoot. We were running about 20 minutes late which wasn't a good start. When we arrived, we hurriedly filled in some forms, and then I was whisked over to make-up. On the form, I had said that I would like to achieve a look somewhere between natural and smokey. The makeup artist was a lovely lady and we talked about all sorts- including church!! (And before you say it, she brought it up, not me. Being married young makes people wonder whether you are religious....) During the makeup experience, I specified that I didn't want to look dramatic- just like normal. "I normally wear creams and browns and not too much of it. I wear a very light, gentle foundation  too." "I'll put you in those same colours again then". Says she. Famous last words.

After shooting the breeze with this woman, she asks me if I am ready to see the new me. I am rather excited by this point! The chair goes up and....BAM!!! I felt like Fran from Asda. A man in drag. It's any wonder I could lift my eyes to the heavens to ask "why" this had happened to me...My eyes looked so heavy, I am surprise my eyelids didn't just refuse to open. "Do you like it?"
"Wow." Says I.
"YES!! My 4th WOW today!" Says she.
Of course, I didn't exactly mean "Wow! You've changed my life- I look incredible. Can I hire you to do my makeup every day" Wow. I meant "Wow. This is new. I look like a man." That kind of Wow. But I couldn't put my finger on what made me look so strange! I looked at the eye-shadow. Heavy, but lovely. The eye-liner was a bit heavier than normal but not so much. The foundation was a bit much and the lips....it was probably the lips. Waaaayyy too pink. I asked her to tone them down, which she did, but I still looked awful. In hindsight, I realise that the dark smudges she'd put under my bottom eye-lashes made me look like I was having withdrawals from something with questionable legality and the darkened eye-brows didn't do me any favours either. But, I didn't think of that at the time and so, I rolled with the punches, as it were. (Or at least, I certainly looked like I had been punched. It wasn't that bad....but seriously...) She explained to me that things had to be dark because of the lighting in the photos etc...So, who was I to argue!!

Then came the next blow. I had already done my hair before I came. My neat little curly bob was very curly and my fringe was straight. It could have been straighter, I suppose but my hair could not have been any curlier. Or so I thought. THEN, she whips out the curling wand. "I'm just going to put a couple of curls in the front like mine". At first, I thought she meant that she was going to give me some fantastic up-do with a couple of curls left in the front. Not so. She re-curled 2 already curly curls, which were now even shorter and, thus, made my hair bigger. Then, she crossed a line. She mussed my curls. In all my life, I have been wary of people touching my hair and this is why. On my head, my volatile little head, the mussed look doesn't work. Mussed look + Rache's hair= Frizz, frizz and more frizz. Thankfully, she stopped the mussing before too much damage was done. She called Ieuan in next and proceeded to work on his hair and give his face a moisturising and a powder. Then, we were ready!

We went down to the studio and had quite a nice time- some fun shots, some glamorous shots, some shots with a big fan!! It was fun and we enjoyed it. It was over quite quickly though and I felt like my makeover had taken much longer. Still, I was pretty jazzed about seeing our photos. We waited for about 20 minutes while they edited the prints (they said it would be 20 mins so after 10, I wasn't especially reassured- not when you take days!) They ushered us into a small room with a huge apple monitor. They darkened the lights and played some music and we watched the slideshow of the images. There were some really lovely ones and already I could feel the pressure to choose just one for our complimentary image. We were fixed in our minds with a determined resolution that we were only going to take our complimentary image. We even bought them a box of Milk Tray to soften the blow!! I'm serious! So as we were looking through the photos, there were some I loved and some I thought "My face is too chubby, I look like a man in drag and the lighting hasn't softened my eyebrows or my lipstick at all." So it was a mixed bag of goods really. But I was excited because we had some photos we loved. Then she sat us down and explained the pricing. £60 for a 5x7, £70 for a 6x9 and £80 for a 8x10. OR, £85 for one image on a disc, including all the copyrights to that image. OR £550 for the lot on a USB. We could definitely rule THAT one out. We decided that we would get one on a disc and pay the £25 on top of our complimentary £60 voucher. In the end, we couldn't choose between a photo of Ieuan and I in green jumpers cuddling, or a one of us lying on our fronts in our Rugby shirts. So, we decided we'd pay a bit extra and get 2 prints. We shook hands with the lady, paid our money and left.

It was only on the journey home as we talked that our optimism about the experience slowly morphed into a dramatic realism that made us realise what had happened and what we'd done. We'd given up our deposit towards a second print. That meant....*imagine a lightbulb slowly coming on*....that meant....we'd spent not £40 but.....£70. £70. Seventy Pounds. Seventy Pounds on a photo that, even though it contains our bodies, we do not have the copyright for and so it will always be a 7x5 that no one else will see unless they are acutally in our house. It will never be the canvas we hoped it would be for the bedroom wall. It will never, ever be anything but a tiny photo that cost us £70. Not only did that realisation hit us, but I also realised exactly who my madeover self reminded myself of...

THE HORROR!!!!

So, friend. That was our day. When we came home, we stopped at McDonalds and laughed about our predicament. The Happy meal didn't make me happier, though. Now that a few days have come between my Makeover horror where I felt like I was wearing a makeup ensemble that may well have been nicknamed "vicious trollop", I can now honestly say, we are looking forward to receiving our prints in 3-5 weeks. (£70 is not enough to secure fast delivery, you see). They were lovely and will be lovely! The shoot itself was fun and it will be nice to have a 7x5 and a 6x9 reminder of that event to hang on to forever!! =)

All my love,

Snafs

P.S. We SO didn't give them the Milk Tray. We partied up on that when we got home. It was a consolation gift to ourselves. =)

(Jessica) " 'Is it raining?' 'No. It's national baptism day..' "

Hello Waffle,

SO....You'll never guess the morning I've had. Nope. No guessing, so I shall tell you. I shove a £20 note into my back pocket on my run for the bus, the bus I manage missing, and reach into my back pocket for the twenty and find that it's disappeared, en route I suspect.I finally got on the bus to greet the world's slowest driver...I could walk on my little fingers faster than that bus was going. I finally made the judgement call to take a cab from the city (I secretly had the 'Sherlock' serial killer taxi episode in my head as I got in...). But the guy was nice enough and said to me as I got in, "In a hurry miss?". Which made me smile as I felt almost regal...I felt like a little Miss Bennett travelling to Pemberley. In short, fate steals £20 notes from your back pockets, makes you late and gives you a decrepit bus driver just because she can. Then, she throws you a bone...and calls you Miss.

So as part of my job I have to see foreign students on a regular basis, on average we meet 480 a session. Lots of people. We have to take down and update their contact details. So it was during this interaction that I asked a student for his number...and he hands me his mobile to take down his number and as my hand holds his phone..*exhale dramatically*..he holds my hand.Picture this if you will: Phone, my hand holding phone, his hand holding both. My hand was a hostage, a hand hostage. It was the filling in an awkward hand sandwich!  I stared at the mess of hands in complete disbelief for a little while, looked at him, back at the hands and tried to subtly shake his hand off. Then not so subtly shake his hand off...I guess he thought I was having a fit because he gave me the most confused look. Eventually it dawned on me that the faster I took the number, the quicker my hand would be released from this madman. What's with people? Don't they know?! In England that is not okay behavior. I don't know whether England is an uptight private culture naturally or if it is just how I am. But it is now a new chapter in my book: "Culture tips 101". Chapter 3: When entering a society that you are poorly informed on, it is best to not touch any hands that don't belong to you. Why do things like this always happen to me? People always get involved in my space. Is it just me? I'm to face tattoo...and by face tattoo I mean...

I am a thoughtful guy, I think about a lot of things...I am a thoughtful guy, I think a lot of thoughts about a lot of things- Have you ever thought about where your life would be if you left 10 minutes early to the activity where you met Ieu....what would you be doing now? Our lives would both be REALLY different. Food for thought.

Oh dear dear Shams, I am deeply sorry that you find yourself in the middle of the weight loss pool. But may I be the first to say ...*hits lights and shines torch under face*... "Welcome". Weight loss is a joyful and rewarding process...when it's opposite day and you're in a room full of clown mirrors that make you look like a string bean. Oh my sweet Rachel...you'd eat oaty pillows, which had a closer likeness to cardboard than a breakfast cereal, just to sacrifice 4 calories and reduced sugar content?! Those 4 calories are to stop you from running across the room with your tongue on the carpet, like a lawnmower. The true secret to dieting is not to deny yourself 4 calories worth of taste. But take heart friend, the slower you loose weight the slower you put it on...or so I'm told.

What you had to say about Trowbrige's strange mix of beings made me laugh. What kind of person dye's a dog's hair? Someone with either a youtube account...or no freeview tv. I've been strange beings, every time I travel past Anglia Square. There is a shop down there called, "Aladdin's Cave". It has a beautiful oak vanity set in the window...with a cage and a stuffed snake resting on the top. Never a lack of entertainment. I also saw a guy that looked like the Hippie troubadour from GG down in Anglia Sq. Felt like whistling him a little tune about working in a Kinkos...or growing your own veg. Sweet guy.

I am truly (not really all that) sorry for the voicemail I just left. I knew I saw that actress somewhere and it suddenly came to me. I had to share this glorious moment, moment of gloryment if you will, with someone. 1:00am in the morning or not. You love it really loin fruit, fruit that you are.WWTBFCD?? She would love it. I would have called her but alas, we don't keep in contact since the night terror episode of '04. I digress...

I have to journey to the land of nod...nod here being sleep and not the "you can leave your hat on" nod. 

Don't be like that, wipe the brazzlefrat and bendelschnitz expression off your face.

I love you Montgom.
Say hello to M.L for me....or beardy monroe...either. xxx

P.s. “Hey, did anyone ever think that maybe Sylvia Plath wasn’t crazy. She was just cold!"

"Well, Taylor, I'm a 2 inch kinda guy."

An inch is a deceptive amount, you know. Whenever I watch these weight loss programmes, and they announce that someone has lost an inch off their waist, jaws drop, gasps are heard and tears spring to the eyes.
"PAH!" I think. "1 inch?! Are they for real?!"
Now I am in the whole weight loss zone and, if I'm honest, an inch might be a pretty nice amount to come off  my waist! I've not really been measuring inches, etc. Just weight and at 9.8 1/2, I feel pretty good about myself. I made a break through with Special K though. Indeed, I broke through the Special K barrier!! I went shopping at Tesco to replenish my cereal stock. I dashed there because Special K was on offer and I wanted to stock up before the offer ends. What did I discover?? I could get the same amount of similar but healthier flakes for less money!! That's right. 4 calories less, much less sugar and saturated fat per bowl! I also found a big box of Quaker's oat pillows- 99p for a huge box! Also healthier than a bowl of Special K. That means the precious little calories I save I get to re-distribute to more exciting lunches. For example, Melba Toast. Melba toast is like a thin, long slice of crouton. Delicious and...crunchy. BUT, with 12.8 calories a slice, I can have Cheese, Marmite, a little cream cheese on them and it makes a lovely light lunch!
Couple those delicious delicacies with some pilates or some yoga and you have a healthy little Rachie. Just want you always wanted, I know. =)

Trowbridge is the home of a wonderful, eclectic mix of beings. I say beings because not all of the eclectic mix are human. The other day, for example, I saw one of those skinny, wretched looking dogs with the whisps of long hair on its head and tail. That is not abnormal, I am sure. BUT, The long white hair on the head was dyed an aqua like green and tied up in 2 bunches. It took me a while to process exactly what I had just seen. 3 months in Trowbridge and you learn simply not to look twice.

One wonderful thing about our lives here is about our Home Teachers. They are 2 very different people. One who's Ex-Army and into guns and the other who is very mild, quiet and into films and sports, I believe. They are THE most diligent home teachers I have ever had (next to Steve Butcher). They are lovely and caring but they are so funny. One of them gets talking about the army and the other looks at me with raised eyebrows as the technological terms fly, with considerable speed, waaayyy over our head. When roles are reversed and we're talking about rugby, the other is silent. Until....the topic of westerns was broached. I have never, ever heard of a spaghetti western before in my life.

Definition: spa·ghet·ti west·ern
Noun
A western movie made cheaply in Europe by an Italian director.

This I learnt after a mildly heated discussion ensued between our wonderful Hometeachers about what defined it and whether a specific movie title would be considered a spaghetti western or not. It was not long after the silence that followed that I said, in unison with the more quiet of the two...."Ah...so, the message?"
Ha!

I have a busy couple of months ahead with some new training programmes the museum are launching for their treasured volunteers. I get on very well with the volunteer coordinator and just happened to drop in there that I teach history workshops to children and if she ever needed any help with the education side of the museum, she need only ask! She was delighted. The funniest thing though was that she had already pre-scheduled the talks and training I was to come to because my friend Penny was on them. Now I told you about Penny before but...having watched Miranda, I can now, 100% wholeheartedly say she both looks and is like Penny, Miranda's mother. It's actually uncanny. She's so funny and I am excited to be back at the museum with her!

Anyway, please await part 2 after our VIP couples make over session at the photo studio tomorrow...no doubt THAT will present some serious material! X

(Jessica)- "How about 'The We'? Yeah. We are 'The We' "

Rory: She needs a resume and samples of your previous work and, uh, referrals. 

Lorelai: And my bare butt to kiss? 

Rory: If you think that will set you apart from the other applicants, yes. 

------------------------------------

Oh yes, it has been a few weeks of me thinking, "And my bare butt to kiss". Don't get me wrong...I have had a wonderful few weeks but it has been the odd awkward moments, upon which this blog thrives, which have multiplied and replenished very much recently. This blog has done wonders for my positive attitude- whenever something truly embarrassment and horriffico happens I simply think to myself (*in a Louis Armstrong voice*), "What a wonderful blog!".


Do you ever have those moments when you're in a girl's bathroom and you happen to hear a conversation like this, "You have no idea, my skin has been the worst skin since 2012!"...As you know I am now working in a University so I often come across conversations like these on my trips away from a computer screen. I did feel so sorry for the student who has had the worst skin as of 2012....I really did. Until I walked a midst the toxic cloud of hair-spray, Charlie Red and shine powder, only to discover that she was blessed with some of the finest skin I have seen. (Odd thing isn't it...to compliment someone's skin? Perhaps I should say complexion as sounds less...awkward.) I felt like saying, "Well some of us have been bless with crackin' (literally) skin since 2000...so do be quiet!". 
Soon after this moment the tribe of girls left...and I broke the tap at one of the sinks...pulled it clean out of the wall actually...I managed to balance the fixings around the sink and made it just about look like a normal tap, or modern art...depends on your perspective I suppose. My eyes and eyebrows twinned as one and rose to the heavens, I shrugged and thought something to do with Lorelai's aforesaid phrase. 
**And my bare butt to kiss**
I would just like to inform you that I am at work, lunch break- don't freak out. Do you know what the height of chatter is? The basic office conversation? I'll tell you... "So, what have you got for lunch?". Or really any lunch conversation really. It seems to be the office staple diet for polite conversation.I shall refer you to one particularly awkward conversation that we had in the office, not two days ago. I was minding my own business and just working quietly and I heard the tail-end of Simon's (guy who sits opposite me) conversation to Helen (lady next to me)...
Simon-"...If Jess saw me doing that she'd slap me..." 
*Looking to Helen slightly confused*-You have to understand, I am not vocal at all in the work place, so someone throwing slapping accusations around took me by surprise. Anywhere else than the office would be situation normal I suppose...

Simon goes on-"Helen doesn't slap me anymore but that's only because she knows I enjoy it."

*Silence and nausea dawn over the people with hearing*

Helen: "So, what have you got for lunch today Jess?"

You see? It's the perfect 'out' of a weird silence. Even if you have a dinner appointment you are hailed as quite the celebrity...I'm not sure that I have ever caught the strange lunch obsession that everyone has...but I certainly appreciate it.

It made me laugh when I read the last paragraph of your blog about being stabbed in a bus lane. Strangely my odds of being stabbed in a bus lane have drastically increased. I have more chance of being stabbed in a bus lane or on a bus than anywhere else on the planet.
I have recently had some trauma in that department. Which makes me miss Robs quite a bit because he would always tease me about my/our bus adventures...and then offer his limbs in our defense. Anyway, I digress... I was offered some socks...men's Gant socks... as a Christmas present by a person I see on the odd occasion on the number 13. Apparently the acceptance of these socks means, "June Wedding" or the equivalent in modern man speak, and the next time I randomly bumped into him, he decided to take an army and march on Poland. (Poland being my face and an army here being his mouth like feature...less like a mouth in this instance and more like...a chasm of death, a death chasm...in which my face was going to be lost forever). This is exactly what I thought as his face made his way passed my 84cm invisible border...
I did exclaim a noise that was something like- but not necessarily..."Ugghhhhh--Ewwwwww". Upon which he promptly stormed off and I had several abusive texts all inclusive with a wide variety of French.

I did see him on the bus a few days later...he saw me and got off in Norwich 20 minutes before his stop....in Spixworth... Was it something I said?
In the wise words of our Great Aunt Laura, "Jessica, you really need to learn how to drive mate."

As you can see...there is a theme to my narration here...all of these circumstances have that special phrase in common.

Anyway, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Are you excited? I sure am. I watched Muppets...and I will watch, "While you were sleeping" later on in the week. It won't be the same without you but the slippery ice scene never fails to greet me with hysteria. Maybe we can watch it when you're here? You HAVE to watch it with mutual Leonard (Ieuan...for those other than Rachel...mutual Leonard is Ieuan). I think he will appreciate the humor. 

Lucy: Oh! I don't want any flowers from you, I am not wearing black underwear, and I definitely do not want to move in with you, Joe - 

[it's Jack, not Joe Jr] 

Lucy: Jack. 

Jack: Well, I don't have any flowers, I wouldn't mind seeing the black underwear, but under the circumstances, I don't think we should move in together. 

Lucy: I thought you were Joe Jr. 

Jack: [sarcastically] I get that a lot. 

So excited for that magic!

Anyway, I'm two minutes into work time now and have to dash. 

I love you Snafroe! (See what I did? It's the ultimate combo!)

Reply or better....

Lots of love,

Fruity. 

xxx