Bear blog

Yesterday was our second anniversary. Thank you to the people who sent us cards and well-wishes. We went to Terracotta to celebrate n'that.

 

It was good. Although we were sat right by the toilets, it put me in prime position to watch people get up for their food. Funny looking people I spotted included an enormously fat man who waddled over to the puddings counter, heartily slapped his big fat belly, and then proceeded to pile about six different puddings into his bowl. There was another enormously fat man who looked the image of Phil Jupitus. I wanted Pete to go up and ask for his autograph but he wouldn't. The spoil sport. There was also a regular from the library in there. She comes in every few days to borrow DVDs. I don't think she's got any friends (I certainly didn't see her talking to anyone in the restaurant). She'll be in tonight, taking out four films. I guarentee it.

 

About half way through the meal a big group of girls came in for a birthday celebration. Sigh. They sat right next to us and proceeded to giggle and scream at each other at the tops of their voices. I wouldn't have minded so  much if they'd  been young exuberant things, but they weren't. They were decidedly past their prime. With jowls and everything. Most of them were overweight, all of them were mingers. And they did that stupid double kissing thing all the time.

 

It was alright though, cause we just did surrupticious v-signs at them and tittered to ourselves.

Finally, a house.

 

I left Pete to Sort It this morning and buggered off to work. But I left early and went to pick up the biggest set of keys in the world with him later on in the day. 

 

Our plan was simple. Go and see what we'd actually bought, find out how much space we now have for a fridge freezer, buy  a new super-dooper swanky fridge freezer, do a bit of tidying and sorting, and move some stuff. The end.

 

But what we actually did was go and see what we'd actually bought, slump in a horrified heap at the dirt and degredation we'd inherited, fail to do anything constructive for many many hours whilst we gazed in disgusted awe at just how foul everything was. Call mother to come and make it better.

 

We pulled ourselves together after a while though and attempted to clear out the kitchen. Unfortunately, it mostly involved  shoving crap out into the garden and ignoring it. I swept and mopped the lino only to realise that it was never going to look clean, so that got ripped up and thrown outside too. We scrubbed at greasy kichen tiles and after about an hour found out that they were supposed to be off-white. Not orange. We only got two tiles clean. Even after going out and picking up my mother's steam cleaner we couldn't shift the grime. We're still this close tojust ripping out the kitchen altogether and storing food on the floor for a couple of months. It'd probably be more hygenic. 

 

Alan came round and did friendly things like scraping away at the wallpaper in our front bedroom and putting up with Radio 1 for several hours without complaint. The room's not purple any more, thank god but its still grim. I feel much better about everything now, anyway, after giggling at Alan shoving his long, hot, steamy ribbed pipe between Pete's legs. 

 

We've been productive in a very narrow sense today. Didn't get any moving of stuff done, or painting of walls, or purchase of fridge, but we're now officially on the ladder, n'that, and I've decided that actually, despite it all, I do like the house and it will be nice. It will, it will. 

 

I've also discovered that its much more therapeautic to get your friends round to laugh at nobs and bumming than it is to stress out about money and bricks.

 

Hurrah for us. 

I had a very nice birthday, thanks for asking.

Zumo gave me a free smoothie which I thoroughly enjoyed (although it was a bit watery) and Pete got me a blender (because that's what old people get one another) and a bike (because I need to conquer my fear...and get to work).

And I got lots of books and lots of music and lots of CSI to keep me occupied till Christmas. Pete's dad gave me £20 which I promptly took off down Waterstones. Me likee three for two.

 

We took the bike out round the back for half an hour. It's blue, by the way, which should give you an indication of how fast it goes. (Clurb's law of physics No. 3 states that red is the fastest colour, but blue's not bad). I didn't fall off, although my turning circles are mahoosive and I'm not very good at getting on and off the thing. Oh, and I clipped a wheelie bin with my handlebars due to my appalling lack of spacial awareness. But I managed to change gears quite a bit. And I'm still alive. Bargain.

 

Then my parents turned up and brought even more presents. Which was nice. I've got a lovely big jar of manuka honey to be getting on with, a tube that makes noises, and a big silver bouncy ball for rolling around on. 

 

Then Lizzah turned up and I got a new cup and a funny card with stickers in it.

 

And then Alan turned up and gave me his Euro Millions application form. Which I may well fill in. And some comedy.

 

And then we took my parents to Siam Garden which was ridiculously good. The fish cakes are a must. And the waitress had big eyes. After the shocking disappointment of Thai Orchid's puddings, we opted not to bother with pudding there but still managed to leave sated. Huzzah. We have found a place we wouldn't mind going back to.  

 

To end the day, Pete and I sat in front of Die Hard and marvelled at how badly Bruce Willis has aged.

 

Lovely. Ta very much.