Making spirits bright...


To me, the arrival of Christmas signals one thing and one thing only. Unlike the Mini Eggs of Easter or the Toblerone of Father's day which, despite the March/June influx, can actually be brought all year round...Christmas is the only time of year it is acceptable to eat (read: gorge) on the one, the only, CHRISTMAS PUD. And what a splendidly incredibly wonderfully marvelous time of year that is.

The second that tinsel rears its sparkly little head and I hear my first rendition of Mariah Carey...the only thought that fills my mind is something brown, is something sludgy, and is  something absolutely positively SWIMMING in brandy cream. What does Christmas mean to you!? 

Before I start salivating on my laptop/crying because my #ChristmasPudFest is over for another year - here are some photos from Christmas day à la Leask. I was too busy stuffing my face with absolutelyeverythingunderthesun to take many pictures. Soz. 


 










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Wishing you all the merriest, happiest, booziest of New Year's possible. 

It's Loggi time of year!


Last year after some festive Pinterest searching and a few too many mince pies, me and Mikey decided to embark on some light woodwork. Three hours later and covered in sawdust...Loggi was born. This year, an army of Loggis (read: 11 Loggis) descended upon my local town after we got our act together and sold a few at our local Christmas Fayre. Next year we are aiming for world domination - if we can find an electric chain saw that is...elbow grease is not the one.

I realise that these pictures make it look like Mikey did all the hard work and I simply fannied around with a camera...and yes these pictures are a wholly accurate representation of what happened. (Sorry Mikey).








What do you think? Have you fallen as in love as I did?! Talk to me on Twitter  or follow every post on Bloglovin'. 

The most wonderful time


In case you were wondering after reading my last post - yes I am still enjoying getting wrapped up like a pig in a blanket and nosily looking into people's festive front rooms while pretending to walk the dog. This time however, we dipped into my local park which has got a wee festive make over. Ho ho ho! Anyway, this week has consisted of:
  • - Turning my bedroom into a grotto fit to rival a Harrods window display.
  • - Trying to convince my Mum to throw out Christmas decoration tradition (aka ping-pong head wise men that I made when I was 7) and go all classy on our asses this year. Not happening.
  • - Falling madly and irrevocably in love with every single animal under the sun (am I hormonal…is this Christmas cheer?!). Facebook video has convinced me that my life is lacking a baby hedgehog.
  • - And, finally, wondering why mulled wine and never-ending cheeseboards aren’t acceptable all year round.
What’s your festive season looking like so far? I’m on Twitter and I’m feeling friendly! You can also follow along on Bloglovin’.  








What’s your festive season looking like so far? I’m on Twitter and I’m feeling friendly! You can also follow along on Bloglovin’.  

Winter Walks


Do I love anything in the world more than I love Desperate Housewives and fluffy slippers? Answer: Yes – CHRISTMAS. If I could picture my little corner in heaven 70 years from now it would be abound with fairy lights, mince pies, tacky decorations and mulled wine on tap. Because I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to make beverage requests when you finally reach that big ol’ party in the sky. #WaterIntoWine and all that.

But the super duper number one reason why Christmas is the Mary-Kate to my Ashley is because it allows me to partake in one of my favourite ever pastimes. Being a nosy little shit. While it may be socially frowned upon to stare into people’s living rooms at any other time of year, at Christmas it is so totally acceptable to gaze goggle eyed into every single lit up living room in visible range. Because, you know, you’re not really staring psychotically into other people’s private lives, you’re just politely admiring their home-made nativity sets and glittery baubles. Yep, I’m a totally normal bystander again. I’ve got a whole month of blissful psychotic home yearning covered under the blanket of Noel. Ah yes, Christmas I have missed you.

Ding dong merrily on high! (Sadly, even I draw the line at using my zoom to photograph these microcosmic grottos, so these are just pictures from our nosy mosey around our town, exterior).













What's your favourite thing about Christmas / are you as damn nosy as I am!?

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Birthday Weekend in London


A modern day princess doesn't wear a tiara and sit on a throne. Oh hell no - a modern day princess drinks copious amounts of cocktails, eats her body weight in Italian cuisine and looks out over her kingdom - or Canary Wharf in this case - from her swanky hotel room.

Yes, a few weekends ago my splendidly fantastic doting lover and part-time personal handyman Mikey really outdid his already-very-well-done self for my birthday. We went and stayed in the West India Quai Marriot Hotel in London complete with the biggest bed I have ever seen in my life; which meant that my affectionate habit of poking/kicking/elbowing Mikey throughout the night was thwarted by the fact that I couldn't actually bloody see the bloke.

So here are a few pictures from our weekend, I'm still warm and fuzzy at the memory. I bloody love birthdays. Side note: calories don't count when it's your birthday and they certainly don't count if they take the  form of a £19 burger and chips combo at 2 o'clock in the morning from hotel room service. So don't be alarmed by the copious amount of food/alcohol in these pictures because I can definitely assure you that I didn't put on any weight this weekend...at all...nope definitely none. Nu huh nah mate. 











On Saturday night after Battersea Fireworks (5/10 - wouldn't go again) we did some serious alcohol acquaintance around Monument. We went to 5 bars, drank a mixture of wine, pitchers, cocktails and beer, crawled home and and sat up in the hotel drinking prosseco until the wee hours. So Sunday morning was a time for reflection, lazing around in bed and pondering the meaning of life in our pyjamas (read: groggily drinking tea and coffee).



















The absolutely class thing about local holidaying is that it took us a grand 45 minutes to get home. That's shorter than it takes me to get up in the morning on a Monday. Stay-aways are the way forward, fellas.

So all in all...this weekend has taught me that (a) my boyfriend is the absolute best thing that has ever had the pleasure of gracing this planet and (b) I would quite like to be rich enough to do this sort of thing 24/7. So there's that little motivational nugget that I can take forward with me in my daily life.

Come and chat with me on Twitter...unless it's Monday.