Reality, the hardest thing to fake

So it was my birthday last week, happy birthday to me! No real cause for alarm, just the fact that turning 28 had the same affect as turning 27 - a massive hangover. Every year I tell myself I will not wake up feeling crap on my birthday after a massive bender, and yet every year I end up doing just that. Last year I went out for drinks with some colleagues after work and got home at 2.30am, with the added bonus of having to go to work the following day AND have Tom take me out for dinner and to see Bill Bailey as my birthday treat. How I wished I had been sensible, and I felt like a horrible person for not quite being able to chirp myself (and my stomach) into a better mood by dinner time.

This year we had a wine tasting evening after work, it was paid for and would have been rude not to. The tasting started off with 3 glasses of champagne and some nibbles, and went on to cover tastings of 10 various, and rather delicious, wines. Now I know I wasn't forced to drink every single one, but they could have made the servings a little smaller - each 'taster' was half a glass full - so essentially 5 proper glasses of wine later I managed to pour a whole glass of red wine on my lap and smash the glass I was drinking out of. The shame! I digress...I managed to get home at 2.30am again - this seems to be a benchmark for me - and felt the worst I've felt in a long time the next day at work. That's right, at work. Luckily this time Tom had been give prior warning and my actual birthday was a lovely chilled out affair with a take-away and a cuddle on the sofa.

Then for the big one, a night out in Soho in the not-so-inspiringly named Garlic and Shots. As even the dimmest of you will be able to recognise, the clue was in the title. It serves garlic, it serves shots. It's a garlic themed restaurant and the food is A-MAZ-ING! I mean, actually awesome, if you like garlic. They also have 101 different flavoured shots which include garlic flavours as well as a host of other horrors. We played a game of picking a number, downing the shot and trying to guess what it was. Tom by far got the worst one of sambuca, tequila and tabasco. Poor boy! Myself and my lovely group of friends continued our drinking out of the restaurant and into the wet night of Soho, and danced and partied the night away in Be@One. It was a wicked night, so thanks to all who came.

Now, onto more important things, an update if you will. I managed to read the entire Twilight series in a week in the end, and am happy to report that it is as fantastic and exciting as I had initially reported, with the last book leaving me distraught that it was all over. Devastated is a word I'd use, and not lightly at that. It got into my head and my heart and I loved it - I can shamelessly say that these books affected me, and I have no idea why. All I know is that Stephanie Meyer is a genius.

Moving on, I really feel that the gods are watching over me at the moment. Not only was I able to see the utterly amazing Pearl Jam play the O2 this year (as I documented to you all at the time), but now they are bestowing their presence upon Europe again in 2010 for a full album tour! How my heart doth beat. I mean, seriously?! Obviously there has to be a bit of a compromise here, and that comes in the form of a festival - Hard Rock Calling. It could be worse, it could be V festival, God forbid. So thankfully Tom renewed my 10 club membership for my birthday and I was able to get fan club tickets without a problem this time round. I would love to be able to get over to Dublin, Belfast or Berlin to see them play as well, but we do have a wedding to pay for, and even I'm not dumb enough to use some of our bar tab on that, tempting though it is. Looks like I'll be fighting it out with all the other festival goers to get to the front this time though.

Next week sees the inevitable car crash that is the work Christmas party. It's being held at a very posh hotel in Knightsbridge, and is bound to be a monumental piss up, with the usual dancing, drinking and debauchery that accompanies these events. Of course the conversations at work have been littered with questions of what to wear, and I was lucky enough to have my dress bought for me by my lovely mum for my birthday, so have been spared the angst of trying to figure out how to afford a new outfit without actually spending anything. My dress is green, very festive! Oh and new shoes, courtesy of my sister in Australia who provided the funds for them. Thanks Ems! All in all it will be a great night I'm sure and will signal the end of the year in the office before a blissful few days off over Christmas, yay.

I'm hoping to write again before Christmas but if I don't have a great one to all who do read this (is there anybody out there?) and I look forward to the next year ahead...x

In the twilight zone

I wanted to write a new blog about a week ago and for whatever reason I never got round to it (possibly the distinct lack of anything going on in my life that doesn't revolve around weddings, and I think I've bored you enough with that), but I'm very glad I didn't until now. As some of you will know I am a bit of an obsessive reader; obsessive in the sense that I read constantly and absolutely cannot even think about running myself a bath without having something to read. I'm also obsessed with having baths so the two go hand in hand quite beautifully. But I am also obsessed in that kind of teenage way where I can't get stories and characters out of my head and think about them continuously, often dreaming about them too. This is where book series and trilogies come into play, and I have to say I haven't found one in a while - until now.

My series obsession began as a child when I forayed into the classics of Enid Blyton and CS Lewis with as much ferocity as a kid in a sweet shop. I literally couldn't get enough and could recite whole passages from The Faraway Tree and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, whilst wishing desperately that I was Lucy or Susan and had a wardrobe I could escape through. This literal escapism is exactly what I love about reading, and finding new books to try with new characters to imagine fills me with a feeling of such satisfaction it is like a drug. In fact, it was the first proper conversation that I had when I met Tom that made me realise he was 'The One'. We talked for over an hour about our obsession with Lord of the Rings (and rock music - but it was the passion in which he spoke about the book that I fell in love with), and within a matter of weeks we had dissected the trilogy, films and all. This feeling of being 'in the club' is one that I find quite hard to describe, but it is wholly inclusive whilst allowing objectivity. For instance, we will never tire (after 3 years) of discussing who has the cooler traits - an elf or a ranger. I'm with the elves, but Aragorn could turn me yet...

It was a fair few years after the Lord of the Rings that JK Rowling came into my peripheral vision, but the stubborn monkey in me refused to be sucked in to the hype of what was to become a worldwide phenomenon. Harry Potter was, and still is, an absolute genius creation to me, and the joy it provokes is unfathomable, particularly given the 'Children's fiction' genre. Time after time I have tried to explain to my more cynical friends, including Tom, that it is simply not a children's story. Of course parts of it are childish; the fact it is set in a school and is vastly about magic are big old factors you can't ignore, but the writing is brilliantly witty and the adult content is very much exposed if you have an adult mind (something I am totally envious of - how on earth do you go about writing something for children with adult references that don't baffle or cause embarassment?). It took me a good 4 years to finally cave in and read the first couple of books, thanks to my friend Danielle and a holiday where I had finished all of the books I brought with me. From that point I have read each book well over 5 times, told you I was obsessive!

It seems my story has repeated itself once more as I have found yet again that I am out of the loop with another literary sensation. Twilight. I only need mention the word and friends are furiously responding to my status on facebook with open encouragement. I had no idea so many of my friends were taken by this new sci-fi (HATE that description) series. Stephanie Meyer is yet another one of those authors who just happened to have a story twirling about in their heads and has gone on to have huge success and following in the young adult genre. I am now desperately trying to catch up with my friends and vow to have read all of the books by Christmas. I saw the film yesterday and cannot describe the feelings of excitement to have found something new to lose myself in. And then of course there is Edward Cullen, beautiful vampire played even more beautifully by Robert Pattinson. Now I am not one of those weirdos that obsess over famous celebrities and dream about meeting them (Eddie Vedder is a huge exception), but he is definitely in my top 5 now! Tom - be warned.

It has got me thinking that of all the books I have really obsessed over, almost all of them are intended for a younger audience. Does this mean that I never grew up? Or am I lost in some fantasy world which is much more preferable to reality? Actually it's both I fear. I now know what my friend Aylish means when she says she feels like she's been having an affair over the last few weeks, waiting for New Moon to come out and reading the last book of the series! It can consume you and I am just glad it's not just me that can't get characters out of their heads. I did feel a bit of guilt when Tom came home yesterday after I had watched the film, but I think that's because I had spent 2 hours literally drooling over R-Pat. Sorry Tom, it'll pass...

Anyway, I'll leave you with the below comparison. I could never choose between books as each offer something unique and it would be like choosing between children, if I had them, but if we're talking films it doesn't take a genius...

Now who's up for coming to see New Moon?!

How to budget effectively, and other boring measures

Well I've been a bit crap haven't I?! Apologies for not writing again, I have turned into a wedding obsessed monster with no time to spare on anything non-wedding related. I joke of course (that was only the first few weeks), however I have since managed to pull myself out of my pre-nuptual reverie and back into the real world. It's not as fun.

For those people who's interests do not include dresses, wedding cake or favour colours, do not totally despair for this will only take a minute. Sort of. We have been a supremely organised little couple and I think we are so on track that I am almost worried that I will have nothing to do for the next 11 months! So far we have: church booked, venue booked, dress bought, flowers chosen, car booked, photographer sorted, hotel room booked, chair covers booked (way too expensive but I can't let it go), favours bought, invites designed and honeymoon almost decided. Get us! All we need now is the bridesmaid dresses found and Tom and the boys outfits chosen and I think we'll be made.

All this brings me to the rather annoying factor of all this: MONEY. Oh how it rules the world, especially when accompanied by the word wedding. From the day we got engaged me and the man worked out a budget based on what we could save a month and still live. Turns out my budgeting was slightly out, as I have since found that my £11 per day has been reduced significantly due to external factors I had not considered...birthdays, leaving drinks, girls nights out, new winter coat... Obviously I was not intent upon staying in until next September, but each night out has left me with less and less to live on until I checked my balance today to find that I had to live on £3.74 a day until I get paid. Seriously.

All this has left us resorting to some quite significant, and frankly some might say appalling, measures to get us through the year (it is only month 1 of the budget). Tom has not been much better than I with his money, but at least he gets his lunch paid for the bugger. Anyway, cost saving measure number 1 - we are now doing our weekly shop at Aldi. That's right, the brandless, slightly foreign-feeling supermarket. To our surprise, not only is it bloody good value but the meat and veg we have bought is of better quality than some other prestigious supermarkets. AND we have been able to get a weekly shop for £25! Bargain.

Cost saving measure number 2 - dinners. Or should I say leftovers. We have always been a happy cooking type of couple and both of us are more than happy to cook dinner. A new high (low?) in all of this is what I call the re-distribution of yesterday's meals. Finding ingenious ways of using up last night's meal takes some forthought I can tell you, especially having never been good at cooking for 2. We always have leftovers and usually these get put in a small bowl and left in the fridge until we realise it's been a week and it's probably off, wherein it gets chucked in the bin. Now however all food is sacred. A bolognese becomes a chili con carne with the help of some chili (yes really!) and kidney beans, Sunday's roast chicken is thrown into a stew, the home made chicken curry is...well kept as a curry but with chickpeas added to bulk it out a bit. I am yet to figure out what to do with left over pork chops, possibly because I am not good at cooking them first time round and their dryness shocks even me.

All of this has been incredibly humbling though as I never quite realised how lazy I was when it came to having 'nothing' in the fridge/cupboard. The urge to get a curry in has never been so strong, and yet I am enjoying this new frugal me. At least for now, I'm sure the novelty will wear off in a month. So if anyone has any good ideas of how to re-distribute evening meals please feel free to give me a shout, I'll try anything!

Under a full moon

My apologies for the lack of blogging recently but I promise you I have good reason! A few weeks have passed and I have finally found the time to sit down and put on paper (plasma? Are screens made of plasma?) the joy of my recent weeks. You see, I have just got engaged! I have been trying to find a way of writing this that can fully show the happiness I am feeling about this life changing piece of news, but it just doesn't translate properly when read. Therefore I will fill you in with some lovely details and hope you agree that it is indeed the best thing ever in the world that has happened and that I am a lucky lucky lady.

It all started on our anniversary weekend (4th September officially) and Tom had a 'surprise' in store. Usually this entails a lovely meal somewhere and the exchanging of pretty cards and possibly even the odd present. Last year Tom bought me some gorgeous underwear and I got him....a DVD boxset of 24. Doesn't really compare does it?! Oops, oh well, onwards and upwards... Anyway, this year he made it clear it would be an overnighter, which got me terribly excited as I do love a good hotel room. Do they have miniatures? Can I keep them? What about room service, just because we can? So off we drive deep into the Surrey countryside and end up in a beautiful hotel with a Spa. A SPA! The boy done good. In true Holly style after a quick walk of the grounds and scoping of said joint, we ordered a bottle of wine to the room to celebrate whilst getting ready. At this point I realised that the 2 dresses I was to decide between for the evening meal were still hanging on my bedroom door at home. Alas, it was to be an uninspiring outfit of skinny jeans and top that had been worn in the car. Thank God for peep toe heels and make-up!

Once I had taken a bath, got myself together and put on some red lipstick (to compensate for lack of dress), we were ready to go. I would like to add at this point that Tom was not even remotely acting odd, nor did he seem nervous. No alarm bells, not even a tinkle. We headed to a beautiful restaurant where an intimate wedding was taking place in one room, which I did feel bad about traipsing through to get to our table but hey ho. I won't bore you with the details of the meal (the irony), but will say that it was totally delicious and very rich and filling. Which is why when Tom started to feel hot and bothered I was not suspicious about his suggestion of a walk. We had managed to drink another bottle of wine at this point too so I was all for going for a wander in my slightly drunk, laugh at everything, state. The grounds of this place really were stunning, and although it was dark there was a full moon and lots of stars to light our path. I had that awful thing of walking on grass with heels and sinking at every step, which made me laugh more and possibly put Tom off slightly. Once we had started to walk our path naturally took us down to the lake, where a load of ducks were making an exceptional amount of noise. I joined in and found it highly amusing to point out each of the ducks in turn and explain exactly why I thought they were the funniest thing in the world. Poor Tom. Eventually after much interrupting of me quacking and naming the ducks, he made his move. He pointed at a particular duck and said "oh look at that one!", and of course I did. He then pointed out another one to which I dutifully looked, and then finally said, "and look at this!". At which point I turned around to see a ring box opened revealing 3 rather lovely diamonds. The words "will you be my wife" barely registered as I stared from the box to his face and back again. Utterly wonderful and one of the best feelings in the world! I must have taken rather a long time to respond as he had to say, "you can say yes!". And of course I did.

I'd like to say that the rest of the weekend passed in a blur but I'd be blatantly lying as I remember every detail. That night as soon as we were back in the room I called my parents and friends, and in fact pretty much anyone I knew, to tell them the news, but the next day was an adventure in itself. We had a gorgeous treatment each in the morning, I went for a facial and Tom went for a full body massage. Then the second part of the weekend happened, the 'fun' part as Tom said. He had booked for us to go to a Go Ape, which for those of you who don't know is an adventure playground for adults and incorporates the use of 100 foot high tree platforms and harnesses. I wasn't exactly in heaven. What was to follow can only be described as torture; I was so frozen with fear that I could just about move my own limbs to climb the 40 foot rope ladders and cross the stirrup bridge to get to the next platform. And the next. And the next. You get the picture. Tom, however thought all his dreams had come true as he chirped at me to "smile baby, let me take a photo", whilst I clung to a tree that was definitely swaying in the not so subtle wind. To say I hated it would be too harsh, as I was definitely proud of myself for having achieved it, but I cannot honestly say it was fun. Tom can though and that's what matters. I was so full of love that day that remembering I was getting married got me through some rather frightening points and made me feel grateful that I had such a thoughtful man who would not only book a Spa weekend, but also try and inject some dubious adventure into it to boot. Bless him.

This brings me to the wedding itself, which 3 weeks later has been booked and is well on the way to being organised (I am a PA remember)., We get married on 17th September 2010 and I cannot wait. More to follow...

x

And then it was over

I have waited a little while to write this as I am currently suffering from post-Pearl Jam depression. I cannot actually put into words the happiness I felt at finally getting to see my idols live in concert, and see them we did!


We got up on Tuesday 18th Aug at around 9am and I forced Tom to make us a packed lunch so that we wouldn't have to deviate from our main goal: getting to London in time to pick up our tickets and get in the queue for the fan club early entry. I would just like to say a public thank you now to Tom for absolutely humouring me and allowing me this indulgence, he was the best person to be with for those 7 1/2 hours of pure waiting. That's right people, we got to the front of the stage in the end after spending our time eating sandwiches and drinking coffee like nobody's business. By the time Gomez took to the stage I was practically hysterical with excitement and the desperate need to go to the loo. "You'll sweat it out eventually", those around me said. Little did I know.

I just need to take this moment to share with you our proximity to the stage and to the man in question, Eddie Vedder. It's taking a lot for me to not swear right now.


Look at him, just look. I cannot even speak about the moment he first stepped on stage. Oh alright, I can. It was absolutely, completely, utterly, achingly amazing. I nearly threw up on the 6ft 8 guy standing solidly in front of me as they opened with a favourite from their first album, Release.


At this point I realised we were in for a good night as the crowd went as mad as I was feeling. I won't bore you with the details of every song they played (although I actually could if you wanted me to) but instead will fill you in on how the evening panned out.


As soon as they finished playing Release the band started playing Animal. This song is quite lively and after the mesmerising Release it kick-started the crowd into a huge frenzy. So huge in fact that my feet didn't touch the ground as I was thrown around in the pit with such ferocity that I didn't know what had hit me. I later realised it was the fat dude behind me, who continued to ram his massive frame into me at every opportunity, his sole goal apparently being to get as close to Eddie as I was. Maybe he was hungry. This wouldn't have been so bad if we weren't also being forced by thousands of people behind into the unforgiving metal barrier as they desperately tried to get to the front too. And all this despite the band's blessed attempt to give us all a break by enchanting the crowd into taking 3 steps back. This mild reprieve was totally undone with the next song's introduction, at which point I lost Tom.

You would be forgiven at this stage for questioning my reasoning to get to the front in the first place, as the pain - and there was definitely pain - would surely not be worth it. But then you must understand that having only seen my favourite band once before in my life, I was not going to let any opportunity to be close up slip through my fingers. Anyway, I digress. After realising that I had lost Tom a tiny little panic started to well up inside me, as if just having him next to me somehow kept me safe from harm. I was also sweating so much that the little wee I needed earlier was now non-existent and my main priority was more of the ability to continue breathing. Catching Tom's eye as he drifted further away was my main priority over the next few songs and it became clear that enjoyment had suddenly moved down the agenda to be replaced by self-preservation.

After a few more 'fast paced' songs I realised things were unlikely to ease up, and having made a silent agreement to Tom I decided enough was enough. At the next break in the song I made my escape and bellowed, "Someone get me out, I wanna get out!". Amazingly the crowd parted and I was hauled over the barrier by some burly security men and escorted out, only to be handed over to another security dude who scribbled a black mark on my hand in marker pen for apparently 'crowd surfing'. At this time I started to wonder how the hell I would find Tom again when he magically appeared next to me, having had to actually crowd surf his way out to find me. Black marks for us both!

Looking down at myself as we went to grab a beer I was slightly disgusted to see that my entire clothing was so drenched in sweat (not just my own) that I looked like I had been swimming - not one dry patch on my t-shirt or denim skirt. Despite this I was once more able to listen to the songs and enjoy myself whole-heartedly as each one surpassed the last, my voice getting weaker with every scream and cheer, but my smile growing. After 3 hours of absolutely rocking out, the legends that are Pearl Jam finally ended on Yellow Ledbetter, with the house lights up. Bodies swaying and voices raised to the sky, I don't think I have been happier in my life. So much so that when it was all over I felt bereft, yet entirely satisfied. Such a long day but one that was entirely worth the effort, we carried our bruised and battered bodies home in a state of euphoria. I cannot wait to do it all over again, although that day may be a long way off.

And in an ode to one of my favourite songs, 'Footsteps', here is a photo of my almost healed tattoo; such big meaning in so a small phrase.

Tattoo or not tattoo?

So I didn't sell myself and I didn't go to the gig. I was sad because the reviews were all amazing (as expected Eddie Vedder may as well have been crowned king) but I have since given myself a kick up the arse and a reminder that I am going to see the mighty ones at the O2 next week. All is indeed not lost.

Anyway, since that angry time I have managed to cool off considerably and lose myself in some frantic socialising, wedding make-ups (there's nothing quite like making someone look gorgeous on their big day) and a couple of tattoos. When I say a couple that is cheating a little I suppose, although I wish I had cheated the pain, as I had one tattoo re-done on my wrist and a brand spanking new one on my foot. My Pearl Jam fervour and insistence has paid off a little I guess, as it brought to the forefront of my mind the lyrical genuis that EV - as he shall now be referred to - is. I have always wanted to have some lyrics written upon my body in some form, and after Tom wrote all over me in biro to find a suitable spot we decided on the edge of my right foot. Mulling over my favourite songs and trying to find something meaningful without being corny/lovey dovey/weird, was a far more difficult task than I had imagined but the answer soon came.

Before I reveal my chosen phrase, I thought I'd share with you some of the contenders I grappled with. Song lyrics can mean something to everyone and usually it is completely different depending on the person/mood, but there is no doubt that they are powerful statements that carry emotion on levels I cannot fathom creating. All of my choices were from Pearl Jam songs so that's all I'm going to share, but there are many many others that I could have used.

'I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a star, in somebody else's sky but why can't it be mine?' - from Black. A beautiful song but I was hard pressed to fit that anywhere on my body.
'We were but stones, your light made us stars' - from Light Years. Again a gorgeous song and a big contender.
'I'll ride the wave where it takes me' - from Release. I think I might actually have this one day, but not yet.

My actual choice was not from a slow song at all in the end, but actually from Even Flow. I chose 'Thoughts arrive like butterflies...' and it looks beautiful. I know I've made the right choice because my mum didn't tut or shout, and had to admit she quite liked it. No mean feat!

Apologies to those non-PJ fans, I'll let go in a while, but we've still got the concert to talk about....

A view from frustration hill

I have had one of those weeks; in fact it has taken me this long to write about it as my frustration has literally known no bounds. Let's see if I can make it through the blog without seeing red and chewing my lips off.
First things first, Monday (we may as well do this in chronological order). I am a member of the Pearl Jam fan club and one of the reasons I continue to be a member is the 'almost guarantee' of finding out about new concerts/tours that they will be embarking on. Usually the fans find out first, and Monday was no exception. For a bit of background, the last time I saw PJ live was about 3 years ago, and I recently got tickets to see them at the O2 in August. This made me very happy and I laughed and clapped and danced. Then Monday happened. On Monday we were told that they would be doing another date in London. An 'intimate' gig, at the Shepherd's Bush Empire to be precise. All we had to do was register for tickets and the fan club would be drawing a lottery to see who would get tickets on Wednesday. So I enter the fan club draw.

Tuesday. HMV jump on this Pearl Jam loving bandwagon and offer the chance of pre-sale tickets to the SBE gig if you order their new album. No problem, think I. Once you order this you get a link to the pre-sale tickets, on Tuesday and Wednesday. WHICH DOESN'T WORK! Well, it does but you just can't get through. No matter though, there's always the fan club lottery.

Wednesday. I receive the fateful email from the 10 club explaining that my tickets were not chosen. The urge to break down into full on sobs is excruciatingly large and my mind whirrs and ticks as I start to breakdown my options. There is always...

Thursday. The general sale starts at 9am on the Ticketweb and HMV sites, so I get myself into work early to be online exactly when it begins. Fifteen minutes of watching a time bar move slowly across the screen and then the message "Perl Jam tickets are sold out". I actually scream, the spelling mistake a small stabbing knife in my back. So that was it, all over. My urge to swear at this point is beyond anything I have felt recently, worse than having my bag stolen with half my make-up kit in it.

Friday. My work away day and it's raining. Pouring actually, with lightning and thunder, and we are going to be doing 'team sports' in the afternoon. My joy knows no bounds. Now these things are always hilarious to the lower masses and a bit of a bore to the Partners and Directors, but I need a drinking session to drown my woes and throw myself mercilessly at the games despite wearing someone else's waterproofs. My enthusiasm pays off as our team wins the sports bit and we get three bottles of champagne. Nice! That, my friends, was the beginning of the end and the rest is a bit of a blur. What goes on tour stays on tour, as they say, so I won't be filling you in.
And no, I still don't have PJ tickets for Shepherd's Bush, and the prices on Ebay are so disgusting I may have to sell myself.