Zzzzzzz

Frek-sakes... it's frikken freezing here. We played football in zero visibility last night - I couldn't see the width of the pitch. And I can't get my toes warm. Even when I snuggle right up to Mills, seeking his body heat. I just don't seem to generate my own. Rather, I absorb his so that the point of contact actually becomes cold on his body. I like to think of it as a super human power. I absorb warmth.

Anywho, so the masked ball went well this weekend. I fitted in the bright BONT orange dress, and the shoes purchased by my personal shopper (aka Mills's sister in London) fitted like Cinderella's glass slipper. Bee-yatiful.

Although an excellent shopper, she's not much of a navigator. While driving around the little known town of Brid ("why on earth are you going to BRIDLINGTON?" Mills and I were asked on seperate occassions by different poms), I noticed that we had passed the same chav pushing a pram... three times. A few minutes later, our driver (aka Mills's Sister from London) suddenly asked, "does anyone else get the feeling that we're lost?"

Always encouraging from someone who used to live in the area.

Aimless driving aside (we eventually pulled over and had to be rescued by the sister-in-law), the 30th celebrations were good fun. On the big day, we excitedly gathered outside the birthday boy's room, and burst in, balloons, cake and candles at the ready... only to discover that the birthday boy was not in his bed. Actually, he was no where to be seen. I briefly contemplated the fact that he had escaped via the ensuite window.

Instead, he was watching us from his hiding place in the cupboard. Like a 6-year-old. So childish. (By this stage, the blazing candles has set off the fire alarm and melted most of the chocolate icing... Thirty emits a lot of heat.)

The ball itself was entertaining. Lots of lovely outfits, lots of interesting outfits. My personal favourite was the lady in a ball gown that didn't quite close (it was clearly fitted a few decades ago). I shouldn't laugh too loudly, because it was only once we got home from an evening of shaking our asses to dated music, that I realised my black g-string was very visible through the somewhat see-through orange material. Talk about VPL. Class with a capital ARSE.

Needless to say, a good weekend was had, but I'm still catching up on sleep. And probably will be for the rest of the week. Not much time for rest though, because we're all off for our skiing week on Saturday. Then my boet arrives for a few days, literally on our return.

I get tired just thinking about it.

So the blogging is going to be erratic until March. Apologies in advance. I still love you all dearly. If you're looking for random reading material on a daily basis while I'm gone, go here.

But please come back. I miss you already.

ps. I am delighted to say that the Ginger Beard is gone. Gone. My passion for my hairless one is reignited.