1. You close your online gaming account and join a bee keeping forum. Bee keeping and napkin folding are your new passions.
2. Workmen who come to your house to fix your boiler call you Mrs. “That’ll be an extra 50 euros for the new washer Mrs Ryan”. None of the familiar terms of endearment, ‘love’ or ‘sunshine’ will be uttered. It’s the least they could do to address you formally and with respect while fleecing you for every last penny. “Standards must be maintained” will be your new mantra.
3. You could eat a whole tub of Haagen Dazs if you wanted to but choose not to. The only person wagging a finger at you as you reach for the fridge is yourself. You can stuff your face with sweets with carefree youthful abandon but you wont. The bathroom scales will be ever present in your thoughts. It’s not as much fun anyway when there’s no one to scold you.
4. You say more appropriate things than inappropriate things. This anomaly may reverse in time. When you’re past middle age you revert to saying more inappropriate things than appropriate, or what I like to call – radical honesty.
5. You develop an awareness of hygiene that was never present in your teenage years. You become acquainted with the vacuum cleaner. It never troubled you before but suddenly the collection of socks under the bed makes you queasy.
6. You’re fond of a old ‘sit down’.
7. You develop a cushion fixation. Your shopping habits change. You still like the odd impulse buy but you’re more likely to find yourself in the haberdashery department of Brown Thomas than looking at Gucci handbags. Who doesn’t love new cushions?
8. Buying a new appliance makes you more giddy than a thirteen year old at a Justin Bieber concert. You actually read the instructions on how to care for your new stand mixer.
9. Beer will no longer cut the mustard. You discover the joys of a glass of wine.
A picture of a burka clad Anne Robinson in today’s Daily Mail got me thinking. Some days it’s easier to hide behind baggy clothes.
Wearing elasticated trousers. This shows a complete disregard for society in general. While ‘Thanksgiving pants’ as worn by Joey in Friends, may be permitted as a vehicle for comedy but in real life are an absolute no no. Equally, referring to trousers as ‘relaxed fit’ or ‘slacks’, a serious crime against good taste. If you wear tracksuit bottoms when not exercising, don’t bother with therapy, go straight to the asylum. Perhaps it might be an idea to keep an outfit on standby, maybe some sort of bee keeping ensemble, it would be preferable to tracksuits. Anne Robinson’s would do well to heed my advice.
You haven’t seen your bedroom floor in over 3 months due to an assortment of clothes, mugs, books and magazines strewn around. This far exceeds the normal realms of messy. Nothing screams ‘Look at me, I’m celebate ’ more than going to sleep under a pile of magazines and a laptop.
Wellies. Only wear if you are a farmer. Even posh Hunter wellies ceased to be acceptable in 1981 when Prince Charles was snapped wearing them.
Off to town to get a job. The Green cinema on St. Stephen’s Green, an old Irish institution had a sign ‘Staff Wanted’. It was a lovely old theatre, the only cinema in town boasting ‘love seats’ – two seater seats for couples. A family run affair, two sisters despite being octogenarians were still holding the fort. Mrs. Daly and Miss Noone, both favoured pleated tweed skirts, twinsets and pearls. When it opened its doors it boasted state of the art technology, some seats equipped with a Fortephone apparatus which enabled patrons suffering from deafness to hear the soundtrack. By the 1980’s it looked a bit tired but that made it all the more appealing.
On a day off school school with my friend Mary, we called one afternoon looking for a job. Yes, they could take us both on that Saturday evening, but a training day on Friday was necessary to acquaint ourselves with the mysteries of usheretting. I was apprehensive but Mary fancied the guy in the projector room.. offer duly accepted.
Miss Daly, one of the sibling propieters, handed out torches. Tooled up, training commenced. As the complexities of torch holding were explained, it became obvious that there was more to this showing people to their seats business than meets the eye. ‘Keep the torch low’ Miss Noone commanded, flicking the torch discretely along the aisle’s edge as she walked. Only after a couple of hours training had we adequately mastered the level of torch holding skills required to be fully fledged usherettes.
Despite having to wear a kimono type overall, the sense of empowerment my torch brought made up for it. ‘This way please’, ‘No smoking in rows 10 to 14’. I was beginning to enjoy bossing adults about (well I was only 15). There was a real problem with people buying standard seats trying to get into the premium love seats. Observation skills and a sharp eye were required to patrol the aisles. The power could go to your head, ejecting punters attempting to commandeer a love seat without the proper ticket.
A horror film called “When a Stranger Calls” was showing. I got to see the first 40 minutes of it each night, but never got to see the happy ending as my shift finished at 10pm. So I’d watch until I reached a level of terror that turned me to a quivering wreck, but miss the bit at the end where calm is restored and your heart rate returns to normal. I invariably left the cinema looking over my shoulder. Once home, too scared to go to sleep with the light off.
We worked there for the Summer and left when school started back in September. Mary went off the projector guy anyway.
The Decision: Will I won’t I? Weighing up the pros and cons. If you find that your cellulite is visible through thick skirts, or your posterior resembles a lumpy loot bag, well I guess the answer is yes. But then again, you are quite fond of breathing, and would like to continue to breath in the future. The thing is, although they look awful, the latest hi-tech engineered fabric prevents all lumps and bumps from showing through even the flimsiest of clothing. The resulting svelte outline a joy to behold. They make a Primark dress look like Dior (I may be exaggerating a little). Regardless of whether you are overweight or not, we can all benefit from a smooth sleek silhouette. Never mind what you look like underneath, never mind that you will sweat, blister, feel like a stuffed sausage and cease to breath. Pay no heed to the fact that your organs are being squashed or that your legs are numb. These crucial side effects will be duly ignored in the debate. Should you embrace your inner Bridget Jones? You will decide that the answer is YES. Don’t imagine you’d get a look in with the likes of Mark Darcy with an arse the size of small country.
The Religious Experience: Spanx are a gift from God. Once a devotee, you may never leave home without them again. Spanx worship is a common phenomena.
Weaning off Elastic: Wearing Spanx eventually leads to a lifelong addiction to elastic. The day may come when you decide to let it all hang out, and you won’t be prepared. An exit strategy should be considered. I understand that there are programs where you can be weaned off elastic, but none with any great success that I’m aware of.
What to look for in a man? Brave, intelligent, suave, sophisticated, thoughtful, kind, handsome, funny? Wrong, solvent, hygenic and not afraid of the odd bit of housework . Find a man who can keep you in the style you would like to become accustomed to who doesn’t have his own personal odour. Forget GSOH or SWM, when placing your personal ad in The Farmers Journal include HLOD(has loads of dosh) and DS (doesn’t smell).
You may need a measuring tape for this one. A man may be judged on the length of his sideburns. Sideburns should never exceed 4 cm in length. I recommend carrying a small ruler or measuring tape on your person on first dates. Immediately discount any potential suitors overstepping the mark. When it comes to the sideburn rule, all severities in (even Bridget has to ask Mark Darcy to reconsider the length of his sideburns).
2. The correct level of forgetfulness. A man should never remember anything you say, but still retain the ability to remember anniversaries and birthdays.
4. A man should never let the side down on the dance floor. The ability to tango or quick step should be held in the highest esteem. This shows an innate talent to interpret and communicate feelings through the physical form. Word of warning though, draw the line at sparkly unitards if your man is over the age of 24. Mr. Fifty loves nothing more than to start the day with an invigorating foxtrot.
6. A man should never indulge in excessive grooming. Anything more than a haircut every 6 weeks is vulgar excess. Remember, the entire household grooming budget is for you.
7. Never date a man who wears socks with sandals, a clear sign of a deeply disturbed mind.
Optician: That comes to Eur 638.75
Mmm!! Which to choose. Blindness or spectacles
My blog is almost three months old. It began as a technical challenge, playing about with WordPress, trying different themes, mucking about with plugins, most enjoyable. Now that I’ve acquainted myself with the wondrous mysteries of the Twitter machine I’m addicted.
Glasses add an aura of mystery, sophistication, serenity.. in manner of Grace Kelly.
Will need special goggles if I ever get a sudden urge to take up diving, skiing, bunji jumping, female boxing, surfing or even just frolicking in the sea. However, the alternative view could be to my advantage – ‘sorry, can’t go frolicking in the sea today – havn’t got the right glasses’.
Even a Domestic Goddesses can have an off day when her crown slips. Never fear, Nifty is here with her top 10 tips, a few pearls of wisdom to restore your good spirits.
1. Take up a new hobby. Make diminutive rocking chairs from clothes pegs. Keep making until you have a whole peggy forest of rocking chairs. Be careful not to show your new hobby to family members as they may insist on you being institutionalised.
I don’t understand this aversion. A good quality feather stuffed cushion will add warmth and style to your sofa and what else can bring a room together like a well placed cushion. What’s not to love?. If your loved one complains, threaten to replace him with a cushion if he’s not careful.
4. challenge your verbal skills. Imaging lines that Elizabeth Bennett would deliver to Mr. Darcy in your remake of Pride and Prejudice. “Mr. Darcy, I am undone….”. Use words like ‘esteemed’,’tolerable’,’piano forte’ or ‘accomplished’.
5. Buy some new accessories. Accessories doth make’th the woman. It’s so difficult to find a good craftsman to restring your pearls. Buy some fake ones which will do for everyday wear. Teamed with your Hermes scarf (a must for any woman of consequence) no one will know the difference.
Before
After
8. Write a blog. My favourite thing of all, researching (yeah right!!) content for my blog. Not only great fun, but an excuse for everything. You’re not having a lie in on a Sunday morning, you’re researching your blog. Your late for something, you can say you’re carrying out crucial research for your blog. There’s no slippers and newspaper at the ready when your loved one comes home, again, essential blog research the culprit.
Don’t feel too bad, you’re in good company. A host of celebrities have been outed as suffering from the same affliction.
They were fine when I was twenty, but sadly have been in decline for some years now. I recently tried on a pair of boots which were tight around the calf. Beautiful rich soft suede leather with 4 inch heels, fit like a glove and very comfortable. Ecstatic at my find, I stepped over to the mirror to admire my choice of footwear. It was at that very moment I caught a glimpse of knee overflow. The tight calf’s seemed to compound this situation. My euphoria was short lived. I had what resembled a case of severe cellulite dimpling in the knee area. The white skin served only to highlight my ugly joint syndrome or Age Related Knee Deterioration which is I think the medical term. I don’t carry excess weight anywhere else(possibly deluded as well) so why God did you have to pick on the knees.
I’ve tried wearing ultra support tights popular with grannies everywhere. I’ve attempted fake tanning them to death leading to epic fake tan fail and orange hands. Exercise in the form of weights and cycling, I’m convinced made them worse. Massage, cabbage water diet, all to no avail. A friend has suggested contouring. I’m not prepared to set aside 3 hours daily for knee painting.
I have become accustomed to keeping them under wraps. I’m not concerned in the least. My knobbles will never see light of day again. My trendy skinny jeans will never give away my secrets.
Lets Pretend it’s Summer
Pretend it’s Summer. Living on an island where it rains for 365 days a year, any respite from the grey clouds, any glimpse of blue sky must be celebrated by stepping out and making the most of it. If by some freak of nature, we manage to get a couple of sunny days in the ‘Summer’ as a nation we join in the fun and frolics talking endlessly about picnics and sunburn. Sales of shorts and sun tops soar regardless of the fact that you will only get to wear them once.
Ever the optimist, I recommend that you do a I do, join in the frenzy of buying barbeques, straw hats, beach umbrellas, factor 50 sun screen. If by the time you arrive home with your treasures the sun has disappeared (which is highly likely) you may have to play the lets pretend game. Follow these instructions and I guarantee satisfaction. You will be transported from your dull cloudy day to a tropical South Seas beach.
Get out your old Wham records and sing along to Club Tropicana.
Sip homemade lemonade, suck on a cool pop or better still, have Himself bring you a Pimms on Ice. I find the alcohol encourages enthusiastic participation in this little role play.
While lounging back, have Your loved one (dressed in a toga obviously) drop grapes into your mouth.
Complain about the sand in your sandwiches.
Ahh!! The Eighties Blockbuster
My expertise in the book department extends to the fact that I read. Growing up, there was no shortage of books left lying around the house by my five older sisters. They were well thumbed, in fact probably diseased by the time I got them. It would take more than a few congealed crumbs or tea stained pages to put me off. A large portion of the books adorning our shelves were old fashioned, but I didn’t care. Swallows and Amazons, Just William, mouldy books that had been stuck on the shelf for years, I’d read them anyway, when I’d finished the Jackie.
There was a library in school which we wouldn’t be caught dead in due to the overly religious theme to all of the books, beyond boring as all the characters had halos.
The eighties blockbusters novels. Passed around to all and sundry. While there wasn’t as much choice, at least this meant that everybody read the same books and you could discuss and dissect with your friends the finer details of the predictable plots which were without exception driven by lust, love and revenge. Always formulaic, innocent girl (beautiful of course) meets powerful hero, throw in a quirky friend and a slimey playboy called Dimitri.
Where would any domestic Goddess be without a good book to lend a touch of fantasy to her hum drum existence.