Question

Do four clementines and a large plate of salad constitute my five a day?

What if I'd added a zucchini muffin to the mix?

No?

Damn.

Pipe dreams

When I'm feeling overwhelmed, or overworked, or urban life starts to get me down, I sleep badly.

Over the years I've discovered the only way to avoid spending half the night restlessly picking the previous day apart in my mind, criticising everything I've said or done, is to imagine a place where I'm not affected by the demands of other people, or by ambition, or stress.

For some reason Scotland is my happy place. Not entirely sure why - it's not somewhere I know that well, on the scale of things. I think it's partly because I have happy memories of it, partly that I always feel at home in a country filled with red-heads. But mostly I like the idea of the remoteness, and the water, and the greenness, and the big skies.

My dream-house vision has become more and more detailed over the years: it needs to have a kitchen with a stove and a dresser, and a cat curled up in a chair; it needs to be cosy and have uninterrupted views; it needs to be completely rural; and most importantly, it should be close to water.

I think I found it:

Details here

Admittedly, had they photographed it on a rainy day it would probably look slightly less inviting. But I still think it would be pretty amazing to be curled up inside (with my cat, and my spaniel/schnauzer/red setter) as crazy Scottish weather raged outside the window.

Now I just need to work out some kind of cottage industry to sustain me in my rural idyll pipe dream. Like weaving. Or fishing. Or online agony Aunt-ing. Or something. When I picked a career, I didn't foresee that I'd end up wanting to live as far away from civilisation as humanly possible. Short-sighted Celia...

Urban fatigue

This morning I looked out of my window onto a pair of women in their twenties having a full-on screaming match over a parking space. One was driving a black Range Rover, and the other one was behind the wheel of a Mercedes - I can only assume these are professional, affluent people.

Right now there's a helicopter circling above my building, and someone is impatiently beeping a car horn at the nearest junction.

All I can think about today is going for a walk in the countryside, on a super-cold, frosty English morning - preferably with two spaniels in tow.

There will be no helicopters. There will be no road rage. No noise pollution. There might be some rooks. Some rabbits. And maybe the occasional cow.

Less than 6 weeks to go....

Muppet madness

I am almost too tired to type this after yet another working weekend. But I need to point out that I had a (very sparkly) manicure today courtesy of Miss Piggy. And was told by Jason Segel that I have a lovely smile (he also said that to at least two other people within five minutes of complimenting me, but whatevs. He still said it.)

NOVEMBER = AWESOMENESS.

That is all.

Bad Celia



This picture has nothing to do with anything - it just serves to cheer me up

Sorry, I have been a truly terrible blogging person over the last couple of weeks. Partly it's because I've been insanely busy with work, partly it's because I've lost my phone, and the camera on that was pretty much how I document everything that happens in my nondescript little life. And partly, I'm just having one of those weeks where EVERYTHING goes wrong.

 - Lost phone. Check

 - Dead car battery. Check

 -  General technological issues making all my working days deeply frustrating. Check

 - Halloween costume fail. Check (last time I saw a picture of Dusty Springfield, she did not look like a Disney princess crossed with mid-period Liz Taylor transmogrified with a slightly greying old lady)

Basically I'm just a little tired, grumpy and impoverished thanks to unexpected expenses (see above). But - but but but - I have a whole bunch of truly awesome plans for November, including a little bit of travel and getting to hang out with people I love.

So things are looking up! November shall be amaaazing. I have decreed it.

Poor housekeeping

You know it's been a crazy week when the only food you can find in the house for Saturday's breakfast are the last crumbs of slightly hard cheddar cheese and a can of diet coke...

Normal service will resume soon. But first I have to stop gnawing on stale cheese and go track down a Dusty Springfield wig.

Living room makeover

So I bought a hammer.

I own tools! Well, tool. Singular. I ended up attaching the backing to a picture frame with a kitchen knife, because I forgot to buy a screwdriver. But whatevs.

I spent last night and a little bit of this morning mounting, framing, hammering and generally prettifying.

My lovely (and appropriate for Halloween) Tim Burton print has found a home.



So has my flea market mirror, although I decided it was a little small for the spot over the sofa, and moved it to the opposite wall.

That bunting you can see in the reflection? That's the temporary solution I came up with to jazz up the sofa wall, which was looking very sad and unadorned.

Incidentally, I absolutely loathe this sofa. It's an inherited Ikea sofa bed, it's uncomfortable, ugly, and has basically nothing going for it except that it was free. But new sofas are expensive things to invest in, especially when I don't know how permanent my sojourn in the sun might be, so it'll do for now...

As will my coffee table, which only has three fully operational legs, but does a borderline-adequate job of holding my beloved Moroccan bowl (I spent a week searching the souks of three different cities before finding this baby.)

I also framed a bunch of other bits and pieces that were floating around, including a little print of my home town.*

I've still got a huge list of things I'd like to pick up as cheaply as possible over the next few months. Anyone feel like giving away a sideboard, a vintage globe or a decent -sized desk?

No? Dammit.

But from the right angle, it almost looks like a home...

*You see that white building in the foreground of the print? It's a pub. Random fact: I used to work in it, very briefly. I can pull an excellent pint of Guinness, but I'm still terrible at pool.