Thursday, 11 September 2014
For those of us who are slightly older than that (as I hope you are, dear reader. If you're not, go outside and play!), will any of us ever forget what we were doing when we heard the news? I was working at a temp job in Bradford, that I wasn't particularly enjoying. One of my colleagues' sisters was on a flight to the US at the time of the first crash, so you can probably imagine the tension we were experiencing. Their plane was turned around and returned to the UK, but it took a few hours before we heard anything. I remember crowding round the boss's computer (he had internet access, the rest of us didn't) watching the grainy pictures come in as the first tower fell, and the disbelief that passed through us. It didn't look real. Even now, it's hard to picture how something so big, and so stable could suddenly just not be there.
It seems a long time ago, in another online life, where a good friend of mine would remember those who lost their lives in the attack by reproducing all their names in a post on a message board. We lost that friend himself a few years ago, so this post is in memoriam of him as well.
I look down the list of names, and find someone who shares an unusual name in my family, and wonder - were they a cousin I never met? They all had families, they all had stories to share. And I see the names of women listed with their unborn children. Of course, amongst almost 3000 people, there were bound to be pregnant women, babies who were robbed of their chance at life.
Saturday, 30 August 2014
|Image credit http://www.freeimages.co.uk/|
Thursday, 28 August 2014
|There were three in the trolley, and the little one said...|
Disclosure: I paid for our tickets to the Mountain View Ranch myself. I have not been asked to write this review, or offered any compensation for doing so. All opinions are my own, and links are provided for convenience only, I am not a member of any affiliate schemes and will not receive reward for their use.
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
There are a million posts I should be writing right now. At least 2 reviews, a couple of adventures into the big wide world, and the contents of my head, which are not always a clever place to be. Instead of this, or stripping wallpaper from my living room in advance of decorating next week, I gave consumed Australian Riesling, pork scratchings and pop tarts, and watched Gypsy Weddings USA.
And rather than a real, content heavy post, I've decided to share with you an unedited photo from my phone's memory. I can tell you're filled with joy. Calm down and sip your tea a bit slower.
I took this photo a couple of weeks ago at a vintage concert in our newly reopened town hall. I love the double meaning of it, something I hadn't really seen in the posters of this era before. And no, this mum's not so dumb. Next time, she might even be in period dress.
Wednesday, 13 August 2014
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Astral has been around for over 60 years, and while the pot has undergone a little bit of a makeover, the formula remains the same soft and creamy moisturiser it's always been. With a scent that takes me back to playing supermodels in my childhood friend's kitchen (though I think they were just called "models" back then), caking ourselves in makeup, teetering around in high heels and the kind of early 80's fashion mistakes that no revival is ever going to bring back. Once we'd finished our show, we were restored to our infant school glory by liberal application of Astral on a cotton wool ball to remove the make up and leave us fresh and moisturised. The scent lifts me there in seconds, close my eyes and there are 7 year old giggles ringing in my ears. And I'm sorry to disappoint, but I was young long before digital cameras were readily available, and there are no photos for you to laugh at. Instead, look at my finger!
I love the little pots, they are so handy for in the car and at work. While the cream doesn't have an SPF, so I wouldn't replace my facial moisturiser with it in the daytime, it's a great product to have around after washing up, running from place to place, or to deal with itchy dry knees and elbows all year round. Miss Squeaky is away at my folks' for a few days, but I've no doubt when she returns she'll love the idea of a grown-up cream that she can share as well. That's the thing I really like, I'm confident that Astral is safe on her skin, as it's tried and tested through time, and I can maybe give her the same olfactory memory I have of growing up with it.