Tag Archives: Shopping

Don’t Call It A Comeback!

I know I said I needed some space and that we should have a break from all this sharing of stories and views and opinions….but the thing is…I bloody missed you guys! Since I last wrote I’ve lost two laptop keys (right arrow and exclamation mark, damn it) gained a tooth filling and a good few pounds due to my new love of baking. Things haven’t gone entirely to plan.

So how was your Summer? Or should I say how IS your Summer seeing as it’s officially September 2nd and it’s still gloriously sunny outside? Mine was awesome, even though I’ve spent the majority of it on my own (Geordie away with work for a few months) but me and the girls have made up for it with some lovely trips, visits and shopping sprees.

It’s Summer break eve eve in my house as my two girls are back at school and nursery on Wednesday, so the question of ‘what am I going to do with myself’ rears its ugly head once more. I consider myself ridiculously lucky to have been able to stay at home with my girls for almost 2 years now, the time has been incredibly precious and I’ll treasure being here for all those important milestones which I know others have sorely missed.

Unfortunately for me full-time work is not an option at the moment, living in the middle of no where and still only on my provisional license makes finding worthwhile part-time work very difficult indeed. Not one to sit around and mope (okay I’ve moped a bit) I’ve found a couple of projects to keep me busy…..



blanket box

more junk

Behold the pile of junk I bought on Sunday from an ‘Upcycling’ centre near by (sadly no jobs going there, yep I asked) which I intend to ‘do-up’ and sell on to make a few bucks. I’m already at the sit-scrolling-through-Pinterest-for-hours-on-end-looking-for-ideas-whilst-eating-baked-goods stage of the transformation. Sadly the only thing looking more attractive so far is an elasticated waist band.

I’m also doing my bit towards the Fraja Ellie appeal and today pledged to stitch 500 badges to be sold and the up coming charity ball (attended by some Emmerdale stars) as well as overhaul the photo character boards I painted earlier in the year.

It’s so good to be back (exclamation mark….exclamation mark)

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Take Two

Good morning faithful readers, I have big news….are you sitting comfortably?

Earlier this week marked the 1st Anniversary of Geordie’s Girl.com or 1st Blogiversary if you like. (Hallmark are yet to make a card for this particular celebration so I’ll let you off for not sending me one) and as any struggling writer will no doubt agree, a special occasion blog post pretty much writes itself. You might now be asking why it is three days past this momentous occasion without so much as a whisper from me? Well wait for it…..I’ve been BUSY! Actually busy with proper tasks/jobs to do, not just normal chores or routine trips to Tesco.

This week I have created a mermaid and a pirate (more on that later) and accidentally redecorated my dining room in the process. I’ve endured a few hours in Middlesborough (never again) and introduced my daughter to the naughty step where she quite enjoyed the peace and quiet, at least for the first 30 seconds. Yesterday I was convinced I had broken my toes from repeatedly kicking the leg of my dining table while concentrating on painting; this put me in a bit of a bad mood as I really wanted to wear my favourite D&G heels last night. Sorry, back to the list….I have purchased a potty (for my daughter) travelled approximately 530 miles around the country, attended a very impressive parents evening and topped it all off last night with a lot of rum. As I type I am eating Rolo’s for breakfast, I look like a poor man’s Gene Simmons thanks to non-removal of make-up before bed and I have the sudden urge to go for a run!? Thank God I left my gym kit at home!



Okay so its been a very busy week and while I have neglected you a little, I have achieved a lot. From the very bottom of my heart, and to each and every single person who has read just a word of the blog….thank you. You have brightened up days when I was very low and suffering terrible pain and being able to share good news with you all has regularly made me realise how lucky I am.

Last night I raised many a glass to you, and this morning I am blaming you for my aching head x

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One Born Every Second

I watched an episode of channel 4 series, One Born Every Minute the other night, it’s a programme I try to avoid as I tend to twist myself into knots watching the labour and then cry like an idiot when the little wrinkly babies are born. It’s not good for my nerves.

Everyone has their child-birth stories to tell (mostly those with kids) some scare the living daylights out of you enough to pass on the whole idea of procreation, but amid the blood, sweat, tears and god knows what else there are some funny tales that wont put you of eating you dinner. Sadly mine is one of those gross but funny mash-ups…sorry.DSCF2406

I was pregnant with my second child and at the 22 week scan hoping to discover the sex of our baby so I could literally go to town shopping. I was a little nervous as I knew Geordie really wanted a boy and he’d sulk for a while if the result was pink, but luckily I had other more pressing issues on my mind when meeting the Sonographer. As our unborn baby was making the most of my eating-for-two diet (far too much burger king and Kellogg cereal at 4am) I had been unable to go to the toilet for a while, and on the day of the scan it had been 14 days since I’d erm…..had a number 2.(Sorry I’m really trying to put it mildly, you can’t begin to imagine the stick I got off Geordie who thought it was hilarious) Here’s the science bit….an ultra sound scan involves using sound waves to build a picture of the baby in the womb, I know this, I’ve had them done before and I know it’s not like a xray of your whole lower body. So why I thought it necessary to tell the lovely, well-mannered, quiet sonographer in much detail all about my terrible constipation and warn him that he might get my baby confused with a rather large mass somewhere around my lower body, I don’t really know??

Thankfully he was obviously used to dealing with complete idiots and told me not to worry as he wasn’t going to scan my bowel which for future reference  is a totally different area of the body. There was no need for lights in the scan room during the ultra sound because my face was burning as bright as the sun with embarrassment, and Geordie got his comeuppance for laughing at me as we were told we were expecting a girl. He found it very hard to hide his disappointment and sloped off down the corridor while I went in search of some industrial strength Senakot. Now look who’s the Daddy’s Girl!

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Tattoo For Two

A woman showing images tattooed or painted on ...

A woman showing images tattooed or painted on her upper body, 1907. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


What do you think about tattoo‘s? I’m going to have my second one done tomorrow with my Sister who is treating me for my birthday. The first one I had done was a band-aid tattoo, being terribly naïve I thought that if I had my then husbands name inked on my body it would save our flailing relationship and all would be well, 8 years later I am still baring his name on my wrist and we’re very definitely divorced! Luckily I have a collection of lovely watches that cover my faux pas until I can get around to having it lasered off. Is this a common theme in the world of ink, how many people have had tattoo’s that they regret? Mine cost £20 and took a whole 5 minutes to complete, 12 months to laser off and a lifetime to regret! I’m really looking forward to my new tattoo as it’s been ages since my last one and I’m safe in the knowledge that I really do want this one for the right reasons. It will also be enough to put me off having another for some time, I say this because while having your wrist tattooed isn’t painful, I did find it uncomfortable. When I was younger I always wanted to have tiny footprints inked around my stomach and back to signify that I travelled so much as a kid, thank god I gave that idea a wide berth (see what I did there) imagine those poor wrinkled battered footsteps now after two pregnancies stretched my poor stomach to within an inch of its life. Tattoo’s seems to split opinions with people, my Dad is dead against them and thinks I’m mental, but both my brother and sister have them too. Most of my friends have ink and some of their designs are huge and incredibly intricate compared to my pathetic two-inch scrawl! We’re agreed to have our designs done in an emerald-green kind of colour which we know will fade quicker than black but hey its a nice change, just really hoping it comes out well and my Dad doesn’t have a fit…..I did mention I’m almost 30 right?








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The Morning Line

Well I’m sat in pyjamas in the living room with a huge wad of tissue stuck up my nose as I have started the day with my obligatory nosebleed…. and toast. Everyone who knows is used to seeing me like this (nosebleed not the pjays) as I started getting them on an almost daily basis since I started secondary school age 11. I wonder if it had anything to do with all those lamp posts I walked into as a child?

Anyway so this is a fairly typical start to my morning. My youngest will annoy the life out of me to get up and watch cartoons, we’ll share some toast after she’s devoured a beaker of warm milk and then she will happily sit and watch me run backwards and forwards to the bathroom changing the plug in my nose until its stopped. What a way to start the day! On school mornings we have a very strict time-table that involves me getting up and hour before I even wake the kids up, unfortunately the nosebleed also seem to mess that up too and although we’ve never been late for school, we’ve been close to the wire thanks to my stupid, weak cartilage!

I find it very hard to have a lie in, once I’m awake I find it really difficult to just lie in bed doing nothing. I’m the complete opposite if I’m engrossed in a good book though, I’d quite happily stay in bed all day in that case. At the weekends I’m up around 7.30am and after sorting the baby out I clean up around the house and catch up with the news. When my eldest daughter was born I would use Saturday mornings as my escape from being a full-time mum, I’d get up early leave the baby in bed with Daddy and head into the city for a bit of retail therapy. These few hours just wandering around on my own helped me to feel like a normal human being instead of just a bedraggled servant to this tiny little dictator we’d created, good job she’s cute! Now that we have the two girls Monday night is Mummy night so I can have a long bath or go for a drink with my friend and chill out while Daddy takes over dinner and bedtime. There is no chance of going to town on my own on a Saturday morning now as my 7 going on 25-year-old Katy Perry wannabe would most definitely want to come with me and (as my friend Adele calls it) my Magic Mum Purse. It’s not always easy to stick to having some me time, my long soak in the bath has been regularly invaded by my eldest sat on the toilet seat reading to me while the baby collects toys from her bedroom to drop into my bath water! The only time that no one wants to come with me is when I walk the dog, maybe I’ll make that Mummy time instead?


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Legs 11

To update you from yesterdays blog, I am now drinking a Kopparberg and eating what’s left of my kids party bags, an awesome Saturday night in.

So on to matters of the weekend variety. My eldest was invited to a 7th birthday party today and as she is growing out of clothes at a rate of knots we ended up heading into the city this morning to buy her a new party outfit. My first choice for children’s clothes is H&M, their kids range is trendy, great quality and very reasonable on price. All of these factors are important when you are raising the next Katy Perry. The first item she picked up when entering the store was a Rolling Stonest-shirt complete with sequinned tongue and union jack lips. She’s 7!!

Wow. Kids these days shop at Nordstrom?

(Photo credit: Malingering)

It took just ten minutes to blow £74 on a party outfit and a new coat for school, although I guess in the current climate that’s probably fairly cheap? It does amaze me how young our children are when they start to develop their own taste and sense of style. I know one little girl how won’t allow her Mum to dress her, even for school. She chooses the various parts of her uniform as well as matching hair accessories and just a tiny hint of lip balm in the Winter months, the weekends must be a nightmare. I consider myself fairly lucky in that my daughter will, 9 times out of 10 wear whatever clothes I have set out for her without too much griping. The only downside is that she is literally shooting up, suffering growing pains to prove it and is now wearing age 10 jeans with a very tight belt to cover her spindly long legs.

Zara is a good retailer for tall girls too. Their leg length is generous and the clothes are good quality yet for the amount of wear and tear I feel a tad overpriced. This hasn’t stopped me buying blazers, jump suits and long sleeve tee’s from there in abundance. Geordie often rolls his eyes at just how many impulse buys we can cram into a few hours shopping.

I wonder what it would be like to be a parent with no fashion sense, to select clothes for your kids that simply keep them warm or cool regardless of colour or co=ordination. Nope can’t do it,,,,,could barely finish typing that sentence. My Mum could always tell from 100 yard when my Dad had dressed us, resembling a box of Smarties most times. Although my Dad used to make us rice, square sausage and gravy for tea when my Mum worked late shirts, I don’t think the bar was ever set too high.

So back to beautifully coordinated, fashionable, immaculately turned out children. My Daughter chose sequined dress, tights, ballet flats and bolero, however just twenty minutes into the disco the dress had come a cropper thanks to the chocolate fountain. I wont pretend I’m not absolutely delighted that I have a future fashionista in training, I just wish she could stay clean a little longer!


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We’re Going to Need a Bigger Boat

I’m scared of the dark, there I’ve said it. I am a grown woman, mother of two whom I reassure and comfort from silly fears yet if I need to use the loo in the night I have to turn on all four lights en route to the bathroom. Last night we were driving home over 30 miles of moor land with only the car headlights and cats eyes in the road to guide our way. Having driven the same journey earlier in the day I knew we were surrounded by miles and miles of barren farm land with nothing but the odd house and herd of bewildered sheep for company. For the majority of the journey I was fraught with anxiety and consumed by thoughts of disaster and chaos. When the rain wasn’t pelting the car the fog was so dense that Geordie was reduced to driving at just 50 mph (insert sarcasm here) on the twisting narrow roads and obviously this did nothing to help my nerves, he was also getting very agitated at me telling him to ‘BLOODY SLOW DOWN’. All I was concerned about was not getting stranded out in the wilderness in the pitch black and had to busy myself with eating Cheerio’s and malted milk biscuits from our daughter’s backpack. I know my fear is silly, I’ve been ridiculed my whole life about it, Geordie says I’m scared of my own shadow, well who wouldn’t be..it’s dark!

My silly fears don’t stop there either. I watched Jaws with my brother when I was fairly young and since then I have been frightened of swimming in open water. When I go abroad or even on that one day a year that the weather is warm enough in the UK to warrant a dip in either the sea or lake, I can barely manage to get thigh deep before the panic sets in and off I run like a great white is nipping at my heels. I can’t even stomach one of those fish pedicure treatments, yuck. The thought of having fish swim around my feet and legs makes me very uneasy. My Mum tells me that when I was born in a suburb of Sydney, Australia she took me down to the beach at less than 10 weeks old and unceremoniously chucked me in the sea. I’m not sure how long babies have the under-water breath holding reflex but it’s no wonder I’m not a keen swimmer, Jaws has nothing on my Mum!

As a Mum myself I appreciate the importance of not imposing my fears on my children and our two regularly go swimming in the safety of the local pool without fear of me launching them into the deep end without so much as an armband.


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Calamity Jane

It’s going to be a sad day today as I’m attending a family funeral. I’m going to write an upbeat blog post today in memory of such a wonderful person who always brought a smile to others.

I am easily the most accident prone person I know. As I kid growing up my parents could put me in a field of soft swirly grass and I’d still find something to hurt myself on, and I often did. I’m not talking about grazed knees or the odd bruise, those were the daily norm I’m talking dedicated A&E team at the children’s hospital. Don’t climb on the wall, they’d say, seconds later I would be screaming my lungs out having slipped legs akimbo on the wall and scraped the skin off my legs. Don’t jump on the chipboard manhole cover they’d say, moments later I had my legs stuck half way into the chipboard plank with my Sister running off to get my Dad to cut me out. Don’t go down the big hill on your roller boots they’d say, I stood up for a full minute this time thanks to momentum but then fell backwards and smacked my head off the asphalt with a loud thwack. At high school my maths teacher was constantly telling us not to bite the tops of our pens which I was in the middle of doing during one of these lectures and suddenly started choking as I had indeed swallowed the biro lid, well half swallowed hence the coughing fit. My most spectacular stunt was trying to hurdle a 5ft wall aged 11 and of course failing. I landed upside down on the wrong side of the wall with my elbow bent at a seriously nasty angle, 8 weeks in plaster followed and the hole in my elbow a permanent reminder that I am not indestructible. Maybe I’m not accident prone at all, maybe I’m a bit deaf….hello?

As I matured into a young adult I remained as dizzy as ever, regularly walking into lamp posts and bursting my nose all over the pavement. On a routine trip to the video shop (yes video shop) with my brother I came home sporting a blood soaked t-shirt thanks to an unsuspecting lamp-post. They’re everywhere!

Now that I’m older and have two other’s to look out for I’m slightly more aware of my surroundings as well as roadside fixtures and fittings. Now I have moved on to hurting myself on child related safety items, baby gates, stroller straps and clasps, car seats etc. I’m forever sporting blood blisters on my hand thanks to the buggy harness clasp and they last for ages. Luckily though the kids are safe and only suffer the usual bumps from jumping off the sofas and wrestling on the carpet, who’d have girls huh?


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Well Excuse Me

Barney's Best Manners; this was one of the Bar...

Barney’s Best Manners; this was one of the Barney & Friends videos to have never aired on TV. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Whatever happened to manners?

I know I’m not alone in wondering this as it’s a frequent topic of conversation among my friends and the common factor between us all is that we have to use public transport on a daily basis, also known as a manners-free zone! In the last week I have traveled on three commuter trains with two small children for over an hour at a time when other passengers wouldn’t allow us to have the empty seat next to them, they must have been carrying diamonds or something because their luggage was precious enough to have a seat all of its own. You probably read that last sentence and thought if it was me I would have stood my ground and got someone to move, but here’s the clincher, I did stand my ground and all I got in return was every excuse under the sun and blank stares.

Does anyone say thank you anymore? You know like if you hold a door open for someone or if you stand to one side to allow them to get past? I’ve been stood waiting to get on a bus in the city, having stood there at the front of the queue for some time, only for a woman to barge in front of me when the bus actually arrived. When I tutted and loudly said ‘Oh I’m sorry was I going to sit in YOUR seat’ she turned around and replied ‘Go on you get on with the baby’ like she was doing me a favour?  Another frequent incident on the buses is kids swearing. I’ve had to ask school kids on tons of occasions to stop swearing loudly in front of my kids, although 9 times out of ten they ignore me and continue calling each other every name under the sun at megaphone level.

When I was a kid (don’t worry this isn’t going to be War and Peace) I remember my brother getting a badge at Cubs for helping a woman with her shopping. Imagine witnessing a young lad approach a woman in Tesco to ask if he could carry her shopping for her, it’s just so out of character today.

I suppose the knock on effect of bad manner’s is retaliation. My frustration bubbled over during the bus queue incident and I retaliated to the rude woman and let myself down by getting angry, however if you continue to allow people to take advantage then how do you get anywhere in life, literally? If you don’t ask you don’t get a seat on the bus or train, if you don’t hold a door open for someone then why would they do it for you? How does that saying go again…..treat others as you want to be treated, yeah right if Barney can’t even teach manner’s to kids then we’re all doomed.


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When I Grow Up

It’s Sunday again, officially the start of the week, to me it represents the end of the weekend, kids go back to school, Geordie goes back to work and I go back to well….writing the blog! I’m definitely ready to go back to work now and my baby is ready to join nursery. I’ve been very lucky and managed to have 16 months off work from just before my youngest was born, although surviving on one wage has been a real challenge.

When I was 5 my primary teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I know this because I still have my work book from Mrs Gallagher’s class of ’88 and look at it now and then to critique my hand writing. I answered the question and drew accompanying illustrations of my career aspirations; a hairdresser, a nurse or a waitress. When I ask my little one the same question now her answers are teacher, shop keeper or hairdresser, what is it about lopping off other people’s hair that we find so attractive? Weird.

I’m asking myself that same question again now (for those trying to do the maths that 25 years later) I have had a lot of jobs over the last 13 years. I started my journey into the world of paid employment aged 17 for the local police authority, within four months I was greedy for the money and went from 2 hours a day after college to 40 hours a week and spending my wages within minutes of them hitting my bank account. I’ve just made a quick list and to date I have fulfilled the following roles;

Cleaner, catering assistant, telephonist, receptionist, sales assistant, project manager, administrator, office manager, estate manager, PA and Mum. I can honestly say that working as a hospital ward cleaner was easily the worst to bear. My favourite role so far was working for Puma, however that was purely down to working with an amazing retail manager and a fab bunch of people who made every shift comical.

If I was starting all over again and about to embark on my first foray into the world of work (providing I could find a job in the current economic climate) what would I want to do? Well ideally I’d like to be a published writer sitting day after day in my studio typing my next best-seller, although I think I would really miss having company. Maybe publishing? I could while away the hours reading manuscripts and losing myself plots and characters until 5pm on weekdays very easily, now that sounds like the job for me. Another variation on the books/reading theme would be a librarian but I think with a mouth as big as mine and with such a love of talking I would be getting my p45 quicker than I anticipated! I know I’ll have to grow up properly at some point and most likely stick to a job that I don’t really like but pays the bills and means we can go on holiday, however I’m hoping to knock out a best-seller before I succumb to that fate.

Have you ever known anyone who moans about not having to go to work? I know its absurd isn’t it? Well I will make you this promise, when I go back to work in the New Year I will not dare to moan even once about how long the hours are or how the daily commute is hell or how that woman in HR has definitely got it in for me. Nope not once. Promise.


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The Reward Chart

Earlier this week and at the request of my 6-year-old we made a reward chart and hung it in the kitchen. The tasks were all about good habits as we rapidly approach the start of the new school year so things such as manners, bed times, homework and nail-biting. After two days she got a full sweep, a smiley sticker on all 8 tasks and she was completely elated! This morning I lay in bed listening to Geordie banging things around in the kitchen while getting ready for work. He came upstairs to stuff his third lot of stinking gym kit this week into the washing basket probably knowing full well that I’d be laying there fuming because he’s broken our little agreement. At least this morning he’s managed the potentially dangerous task of washing his own breakfast dishes, so why didn’t he do it the rest of this week? Can you see where I’m going with this?

A Cadbury Dairy Milk bar in 2006.

A Cadbury Dairy Milk bar  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If I could formulate a reward chart, only slightly more advanced than the junior one, where the reward for a full sweep of stickers was a happy marriage do you think it would work? If he can complete, lets just say 5 easy tasks such as putting a wash of your own stinking clothes on or hanging your soaking wet towel over the banister properly so it will actually dry. We could live in peace and harmony and happiness, small price to pay if you ask me. I came down after he’d left this morning to avoid any confrontation and to watch Fifi and the Flowertots (with the kids). I found a Dairy Milk next to the phone in the living room. Obviously I’m eating it….but I think I might have been done over. Is this my reward for not starting an argument? For not moaning on about his lack of help or thought for me? So he could go to work with the hope that I might have forgotten/chilled out by the time he gets home? I don’t know what the intention is but I’m eating it ………and putting a boil wash on. Bleurgh!

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The Calm


I’ve had the most hectic time this weekend since I got married in January. We had our youngest daughter Christened on Sunday and preparations for a vintage tea party after the ceremony began some four days earlier. Luckily every thing went to plan, the Reverend also managed to get her name and gender right after fluffing it a couple of times before! The sun shone, the buffet was devoured and none of the vintage tea sets I’ve bought were broken! All in all a great weekend with family and friends. It’s now only four weeks until my daughters first birthday, see you all again then for round two?

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