My Mother's Daughter

I have an announcement.

It's finally happened. The one thing I always hoped and prayed wouldn't.

This week I've found myself putting up the bathmat, spraying the shower screen with daily shower cleaner and making the bed. I even turned the radio down in the car the other day as I couldn't hear myself think. 

Not only that, I have been seriously contemplating ironing the sheets before I put them away, because after all it is quite nice getting into a bed with clean, ironed sheets.

All this amounts to is the rather disturbing fact that I have officially turned into my mother.

Grown Ups?

My lease recently expired at my flat in Fulham and I’ve, for the time being, moved into the boys house. It’s not an ideal situation, being that our room is now full to bursting, but we must embrace these trying circumstances.

So on Saturday night (being Dry January and all) we got into bed early to watch telly and I was tinkering away on my laptop when the boy started to giggle. Curious, I asked him what had tickled him and he just replied “look at us”.

Restraint

It’s London Fashion Week and my Visa card is currently hiding in my wallet, terrified that it will soon be hit with an onslaught of charges involving pretty, shiny, silky, sexy bits and pieces.

I am currently in love with this seasons clothes and have spent many a lunch break daydreaming over the Topshop and ASOS websites, and Saturdays spent fondling pretty things in Westfield. But, much to my surprise I have not indulged myself like I once used to. Instead I am making do with what I have, and purchasing only the bare essentials.

The fact of the matter is, I think I’m growing up. My desire for a house of my own far outweighs my desire for a gorgeous Ted Baker raspberry colour coat, and with the property market in its current state, it will be many years of depriving myself of beautiful things before I will have one.

However I would like to remind my loved ones that it is my birthday in November. Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge. 

Domestic Bliss Comes with an Allen Key

I made a gigantic mistake yesterday.

On my drive home from the Gold Coast I popped into Ikea for what I was hoping some household retail therapy.

What a stressful experience!  The car park was full, you had to fight people for a wheelie trolley, people meander around aimlessly picking things up without really looking at them and it’s depressing that Ikea has a much nicer bedroom than yours.

Of course, it is really my own fault for going on a Sunday.  And I feel sorry for all the children and partners whose parents/spouses have dragged them along to domestic fantasy-land on their day off.

Ikea would have you believe that domestic bliss comes in a flat pack box accompanied with an Allen Key.  When in reality what you get is a man, roughly in his mid-late twenties/early thirties, carrying a yellow Ikea bag or pushing a trolley, saying “Yep that looks good”, “Really babe, whatever you want”.  When really he is grumbling to himself and thinking about how he would rather be at the pub. 

The whole place put me in a bad mood because I either could not afford, or didn’t have the space for what I wanted.  I did however leave with a pretty cool lap-top rest thing (which am typing on right now) and some flexible ice-cube trays.

And one day in the future, when I am a grown up, I shall take my unwitting boyfriend to Ikea and make him look at cushions, wardrobes and bedside tables.  But I’ll be sure to give him sexual favours afterwards.

2000 – 2009: A Decade In Review

Today is the 2nd of January 2010.  The second day of the year and the second day of the new decade.

The “Noughties” was a decade of change for me.

2000: Year 12, don’t work as hard as I should have but received good grades nonetheless. Am awkward looking, all legs, ass and arms as boobs have not yet arrived.  Awful fashion sense.  Very sad to leave school.

2001: Started university.  Studying (to my dismay) business, when would have rather been studying at NIDA or similar.  Think about leaving but decide to stick it out as was the easy thing to do.  Hoped to make lots of new friends at university, but found that it was as cliquey as High School.

2002: Year two of university.  Change my major from Tourism (pft.. what a joke) to International Business.  Decide that I want to travel. Obtain drivers license and first car – a 1987 Toyota Cressida with blue velour interior. Pa dies. 

2003: Final year of university.  Finish degree successfully, but having not tried nearly as hard as I should have.  Finally hook up with boy I had had crush on for year.  Boobs arrive. 

2004: Embark on a camping trip of Europe and see things I have dreamed about seeing all my life. Travel to Dublin, France, Spain, Andorra, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, Corfu, Germany, Liechtenstein. Set out on my new life in London but quickly find that it was more expensive that I thought and had no chance of getting a decent job.  Return home with tail between legs.  Get job in Real Estate.  Turn 21.

2005: A bleak year where I realise coming home from London was stupidest thing I had ever done.  Despise my job.  Take up Latin Dancing and quickly become very good at it. See Meat Loaf in concert. 

2006: Have nervous breakdown and run away from Sunshine Coast.  Arrive Terminal 1 Heathrow 19th June.  Bum around for awhile.  Go to Prague, Liverpool. Live in a hostel. Have heaps of fun drinking.  Hook up with lots of boys.  First cold Christmas. Work in a bookstore.

2007: Meet THE-Ex and start a disastrous 2 year love affair destined to end in tears.  Travel to Amsterdam, Dublin, Croatia.  Get a job in television.  Meet some of the best friends I have ever had. Spend Christmas in Scottish Highlands alone as THE-Ex was off cheating on me on a ski trip. 

2008: Move out of hostel into The Vale.  Ditch THE-Ex.  Meet the loveliest boy in the world, who I treated terribly.  Travel to Turkey, Oktoberfest, Copenhagen, Sweden, La Tomatina Festival and all around the UK.  Meet some more of the best friends I have ever had.  Do good in career. Start seeing THE-Ex again.  Leave London in a blaze of glory to return home.  Turn 25. Job prospects look bleak.  Very depressed end to the year.  But best New Years Eve ever.

2009: Go to Perth, have heart broken by THE-Ex again.  Spend a miserable 6 months on the dole due to the Global Financial Crisis.  Granny dies. Get job in supermarket.  Meet some friends at job, but find my soul slowly dying from mindless, monotonous job.  Turn 26.  Pleasant Christmas & New Years. Finally get a career job to start on January 4th. 

So that’s my decade in review.  Bring on the next decade, which there still seems to be much debate as to what we are calling it.  The teens? The tens?  I hope someone decides soon. 

All Grown Up With No Place To Go

Something happened the other day.  It was the point in my life where I think I officially became a grown up (there is a substantial difference from being an adult and being a grown up I think)
My 26th Birthday is approaching, and my Mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  Usually the answer to this question is something along the lines of Puppy, Trampoline, Shoes, DVD’s, CD’s, Stereo, iPod etc. Fun stuff. Stuff that you can play with. 
My response this year was Shampoo.  I no longer have the urge to put in orders with Santa for fun stuff, just items that are essentials so I don’t have to buy them for myself. 
When did this happen? When did I become all dull?  Should I accept that the carefree fun of youth is well and truly behind me? Or should I go and drink goon and play ping pong with my teenage friends? 
But perhaps I am stressing prematurely.  I was shopping in the toy section of Target for my 3 year old Nephews birthday and was awestruck by "The Wizard of Oz” Barbie Dolls.  Please feel free to present me with one on my birthday.  Many Thanks.