And I daren't go downstairs.
Yet another family dinner party at mine that was hijacked by the trusty bottle of Vana Tallinn. I had run out so I thought I was safe but my dad ended up walking back round to their house after dinner to go and get a litre of it. This was after we had consumed between us enough wine to sink the navy and a load of leftover wedding champagne. Needless to say, i did not appreciate the "Let" sign being hammered onto next door's front wall at half six this morning or Tom's alarm going off at 5am.
I know that downstairs will look like there's been some sort of nuclear war going on there too involving lemon posset and chorizo stew as opposed to to the odd bomb but the effect will not be dissimilar. I am dreading the thought of having to sandblast my new oven as I know it will be wearing an armoured coating of sauce and oil as I was too sozzled to wipe it all off last night; I just know it will no doubt require an industrial sander or at the very least some scouring pads as large as those in a car wash.
It was a lovely night though. It was the first time Tom's mum had been round to my house so I was on full "polish and hoover" alert all day and had managed to get the house looking at least half decent. I had spent far too long messing about with the centrepiece for the table but had managed to hit on a very cute look. I had a mirror with tiny glass teacups on it which I filled with shocking pink, pearl and white tiny beads. I then floated a shocking pink gerbera head in each of the teacups. In the centre I had a small pink glass vase which I filled with iridescent sequins and pearlised glitter then put white roses and some more of the pink gerberas in. I then put a few table diamonds on the mirror and a couple of tealights and bob's your uncle (actually mine's not; he's called Richard...) - a fabulously glittery table centre! I really must get a life...
Anyway the menu was a triumph but not before the odd culinary cock up. In fact, I spent most of the morning trying to make spun sugar to top the lemon posset but unfortunately instead of glamorous strands of delicate caramel loveliness, mine just resembled very sticky lumps of cat hair. I gave up in the end and went for caramel "shards" instead. (that is a made up term that means, "I made a tray of it then whacked it with my miniature flowery hammer after a fork didn't work and produced a few interesting shapes as well as coating my kitchen floor in lethal bits of sticky lump which I now can't get off the bottom of my flouro slip ons.)
I also had a bit of a run in with a chocolate mousse. I thought the recipe looked a bit odd and then I needed to alter it to make more and somehow ended up with a mousse which had the same consistency as perrier. I whipped it until I thought I was going to end up in the Royal with a dislocated elbow but the damn thing wouldn't thicken up. So, I froze it instead and called it "mousse cream". A roaring success and even got asked for the recipe! Also had to make Tom jelly as the poor boy can't eat any dairy; tried to jazz it up with a few berries and bits and bobs but when all around you are guzzling lush, creamy desserts and chocolates then a half arsed bowl of Robertsons with the odd blackberry in it isn't really inspiring.
Also discovered that I seem to be able to drop anything. Anything at all that needs to remain on a baking tray, chopping board, serving dish or plate seems to find its way off the intended surface and fling itself to the floor. So, you'll always find me as hostess on my hands and knees scrubbing away like some extra out of the opening scene in "Annie". I managed to juggle garlic bread, a stuffed pepper, a tray of chocolates, a bowl of salad and the sugar bowl over the course of the evening last night. The only thing I never seem to spill is alcohol- I put that down to the special genetic Estonian "gyroscopic hand" which means that however wobbly you are, you'll never spill your Vana Tallinn!!
We've got loads of Estonians over at the moment and some are staying with my grandad. My brother and Jo took one of the kids swimming and to McDonald's yesterday and only found out in the car on the way there that she can't swim! Jo said she almost had a nervous breakdown watching this poor nine year old as she was convinced Will was going to have to do a David Hasselhoff style baywatch rescue at some point. Luckily she was fine although Jo's nerves were frazzled - nothing like a potential drowing to set you on edge.
Tom's mum seemed to enjoy everyone's company and my best mate popped round after her running club to help finish off the puddings - why did I make 15 puddings when there were only 7 of us eating? It was lovely to see the house through someone else's eyes and Tom's mum loved it - makes me so glad that I didn't sell it when ST made me feel so horrible here. It really is a glittery girly paradise here now (not too much though - I don't want Tom to feel he's got to start swaggering, fighting crocodiles and growing a beard to prove he's still manly amongst the scatter cushions.) I've got it pretty much exactly how I want it now and I absolutely love it, in fact Tom's going to have a pretty hard job convincing me to leave it! A good sign though is that next door only took one week to let. The girl next door left after the burglary as she was worried and so I'll have new neighbours soon. I just hope to god that they're quiet. The walls are so thin here that you can hear a normal conversation through the wall as if they're in the same room with you. I've heard more bedroom Olympics through my wall than a flippin porn star! However, if i did come to let mine I'd be really loathe to do it as I've spent 3 years getting this house exactly right and exactly how I want it so I'd hate anyone to end up scratchign or damaging anything and that's just mental if you're letting! If I'd known I was eventually going to let the place then I wouldn't have put in such extravagant stuff; I've got all sorts of special bits and bobs like tiles, flooring, the oven, taps and the shower that cost a bomb and are all top of the range and need a bit of looking after - I'd hate anyone to just bash them about, let them get all dirty and not take care of them. Ooer, I smell trouble on the horizon!
On a different note, my gym seems to be paying off. I've not lost a single ounce but I did rub my arms this morning as I was chilly whilst waiting for my kettle to boil (is it just me or does time go so slowly it almost goes backwards when you're hungover and just want a flippin cup of tea?)
Anyway, i was rubbing my arm and i couldn't feel any wobble - my bingo wings are flying away! Tom also said he was cross with me because he could see my ribs and my dad said "ooo, ribs" when he gave me a kiss goodbye last night. Now, don't anyone start panicking that I'm in some "Olsen twins/Nicole Richie" rib-off competition, it's just that it's always the first place I lose weight and I've always had skinny ribs. unfortunately, these are sat on top of a very large and very wobbly bottom. Therefore, I have to show a bit of "ribbage" if I am ever to have slender thighs (slender! a girl can dream I suppose...) So, the bingo wings have gone north for the winter and the ribs have made an appearance which means that the bum and thighs must be gearing up for their big moment. It's really spurred me on to carry on at the gym as I was beginning to think I'd just end up bulking up and resemble Fatima Whitbread (showing my age there again!) or some hairy east german shot putter. So, at least the gym is starting to have some sort of effect and is not just a torturous place where i go to have my nostrils assualted by 101 sorts of BO. (Not mine I must point out but I do seem to have the knack of picking the machine which the smelliest man in the world always comes and works next to me on.) Most men in my gym seem not to be acquainted with either deodorant or a washing machine as I swear they don't wash their honky kit from one day to the next. This means that i end up almost suffocating as I try and run like a madwoman on the treadmill whilst trying not to breathe through my nose. It is a breathing technique that renders my face the same shade an an aubergine and gives me a cracking headache. i wonder if Nike make nosepegs?
I do like going to the gym though and have even bought an i-pod armband thingy which is great until I forget that i've plugged my earphones into the machine and not the i-pod, get off the treadmill and almost strangle myself. I also can't seem to disembark from the stepper without falling over. I'm not sure if it's because I work too hard on it or just that I'm a total div, but every time I go to get off, I take one foot off, the other one flies off and I sort of half-catapult myself into whichever smelly male has taken root on the machine next to me. I swear most of them think I'm some sex starved desperate houswife who just wants a quick grope. I haven't got the heart to tell them that the thought of groping all that sweaty underarm man-hair in their 3-day old gym kit has all the allure of cleaning out the cupboard under the sink.
Anyway, I'm in quite a cheery mood today despite the hangover and the fact that I'm meeting my boss this afternoon for a "strategic planning meeting". The only strategy I'm interested in at this precise moment is how I can resist a bacon sarnie when I've got the "hangover hunger" but am on a diet. I've also got my appointment at the hospital tomorrow as well as taking my car in for a service so I'll be pretty busy. Tom's been a star about me being nervous about the appointment. He's away in London a lot next week so he's arranged for me to travel down on the train on monday and is going to book some tickets for a show for the Monday evening and I'm going to do a bit of window shopping on Tuesday then we'll meet for dinner and come home later in the week. He says I need to take my mind off things and the clever clever boy knows that shopping cures all ills!
So, I'd better sign off for now; my head is banging and I think I need to consult with Mr Tetley a few times to easy my poor aching skull.
Lots of love
P.S Runningbird, thanks for the info; I'm down to 15mins 43 seconds for 3Km so I'm chuffed! Good luck with your next round; I have absolutely everything crossed for you my lovely. Oh, and I've upped my protein too - I am now "Mrs Chicken!"