your personal shopper...?

well...  january was an interesting blogging experience.  i'm glad i did the challenge, even if i cocked it up, cheated outrageously, and only managed 25 posts out of the 30 that should have been posted.  but i think i did ok....

there have been various brainfarts over the last few days that i thought, "oooh...  i really ought to blog about that..."  and then didn't.  nothing earth-shattering.  i mean, i didn't invent time-travel and then blow my nose on the formula, or anything, but just...yano...stuff.  and then, of course, i forgot it all.  well, apart from how much Debenhams sucks.  for me, at least.  i mean...  ok, here's the thing:

debenhams, as any Britisher will tell you, is a big shop with branches pretty much fucking everywhere.  it's a ubiquitous department store.  christmas 2009, i was shopping in there for a pair of slippers for my dear ol' dad (who, incidentally, is seventy this year.  EEEK! O_O ).  that, for a start, should tell you something about the sort of place it is.  but i digress.  they have lots of brand names in there, and designers designing exclusive ranges of...er...stuff for them.  mostly clothes/soft furnishings.  and usually with a price to match.  aaaanyway.  i was on the phone to my mum whilst i was looking for these slippers - quizzing her about size, colour and style - when i came across a set of Jasper Conran jammies.  now, i adore jammies.  i don't wear 'em in bed - i just like to loll around the house in them and fluffy socks and my beloved purple dressing gown.  particularly after i've just had a shower.  these jammies were--inevitably--purple...

...incidentally, please note the clever use of the em-dash there - just for Ciara....

...and i spent a minute or so squeeing over them to my mum.  i mean - i really, really liked them.  i could not, however, justify spending twenty five quid on a pair of jammies when i already have several.  so the JCpj's went unmolested. 
fast forward past the christmas shopping to the day itself.  what should i get in my christmas box from my aunty?  yep - you guessed it.  happy Squeaky. :) 
sadly, however, they didn't fit.  lovely aunty said not to worry, as she and mum were heading out on a sale spree just after christmas, and she would exchagne them for a bigger size.  but they didn't have any.  so they exchanged them for a gift card instead.

i tried to spend it.  i really, really did.  i looked for footwear, outerwear, dresses, costume jewellery, nightwear, nail polish, kitchen utensils, a hot water bottle.  they had nothing for me.  nuh-thing.

after a year of trying, i finally managed to spend it on friday.  on a set of bathroom scales and a small (purple) leatherbound notebook.  gosh - the excitement....

FFS!  is it me?  am i soooo hard to please?

or is it that debenhams caters to .....  well, look - i'm starting to get a picture of a typical debenham's shopper, and i'm sorry if you love the place, and the following description offends you, but this is just the image that pops into my head with increasing frequency following my frustrating experience.  she's in her late fifties/early sixties.  she wears uncomfortable-looking gold coloured shoes, and too much make-up.  her hair sports a bad (yet expensive) dye job, and she wears a lot of navy.  she carries a hideous, oversized handbag that features gold chains threaded with black ribbon, or diamante, or gold quilted fabric, or a combination of all of the above.  and she has a fairly commodious wallet.  i'm sure she's a very nice lady, but she really, really isn't me.  i have to admit to a feeling of relief that i won't have to go in there again any time soon.

ahem.  apologies.  that shop has been annoying me for quite some time, now....  :-/

in other news...  went climbing today.  took stepson number two (the one that hasn't made me a grandma), and it was fun.  he's never been before.  he seemed to really enjoy it.  he's expressed a wish to go back, anyway.  have to say - he seemed like a natural when we sent him on to the bouldering wall.  the only real trouble he had was with his stamina.  he's already pretty strong, and he's always liked climbing stuff.  and he has that typical Hibberd stubborn streak that makes him not want to give up on stuff when most would think "OK - maybe i can't" and cut their losses.  though, to be fair, both father and son admitted defeat on more than one ocasion, today, which was almost heartening...  ;o)

*giggle*  and he's just nodded off in front of the football.  poor love - he's had a tiring day...

writing news...writing news...  welll...  not much.  i'm going to do some editing on cirque du seul tomorrow.  and charley's still alive and...  er...  not exactly kicking, but he wants me to get some more of his story written, at least.  still not entirely sure what, but i'll see about that one.  CdeC, first.  oddly enough, that seems to be getting a little easier, now the two MCs have got it on, and the story's gaining a little momentum, too.  so looking forward to that.  think i'm gonna tidy it up, then print it out to give it a proper read.  i so can't read stuff properly on a pooter screen.  especially if i've written it.  the one remove of the printed page simultaneously gives me a little distance, and allows me to get further into the story.  habit of a lifetime's reading of the printed word, i guess.

i still want an e-reader, though.

30 Day blog challenge: Day 18 - Whatever tickles your fancy.

Dammit, I’ve been scuppered! Because i had been thinking about this one for a few days, wondering what i could share that wasn’t likely to scar you for life. And realised i have certain bizarre and completely useless talents. But that’s tomorrow’s post. And i can’t just sit here recording random brainfarts, can i? I suppose i could tell you about what I’m doing tonight... but I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before...

Well, hell if i have - I’m gonna tell you again.

Just after Christmas, i suggested to hubby that i might be vaguely interested in taking ballroom dancing lessons. To his credit, he barely flinched and, eventually (if reluctantly), agreed. Quite apart from being a bloke (well...the last time i looked, anyway... ;o), and that not being a traditionally “manly” pursuit, hubby is, whilst not shy, nor introverted, somewhat the opposite of a show-off. He quiet, and speaks usually only when he has something to say worth hearing. In contrast, of course, to me, who chatters on about inanities almost constantly.
Aaanyway.
This extends to dancing in public. He doesn’t. Well... not often. I would even go so far as to say seldom. And he was not keen. And he got less keen as the fateful day approached.
But he did it, for me. And to both our surprise (and my utter delight), he enjoyed it.
We went again last Tuesday, and he enjoyed it again, despite some frustrations at not being able to get a new step we’d been taught. This led to a little fun, actually. Wanting to practice the move, so we didn’t make fools of ourselves tonight, and our house not even being big enough to swing a cat, we needed somewhere else to practice our quickstep corners.
Our house is on a main road, not far down which is the entrance to our local tennis club. The drive to the club goes down between the houses and emerges behind the gardens. Our house backs on to the grass courts. The chain link fence is very useful, since it allows us to see through the trees at the end of the garden to the grass beyond, which (visually, at least), extends our garden. At the end of the drive is a car park.
After dark on Saturday night, we ambled on down there, and practiced. It was funny, and annoying, and irritating, and funny, and dizzying. Spinning round and round trying to get the steps right, I’m surprised we didn’t end up lying in a tangled heap. But we managed. It helps, I find, if I don’t try to lead… >_< We didn’t quite get it, but I think we got better…
I guess I’ll find out in an hour or so…

And in reply to @AislingWeaver, who responded to my cry for help:

Purple. Because it’s sumptuous and delicious, and the right shade can feed my soul. X