I'm eating a little sugar mouse that Father Christmas left in my stocking.
In my Dream Life, I would only ever eat sugar mice and rose petals and I would only drink flowering tea. I would layer up every tulle, chiffon and satin skirt I own with a gold, sequined leotard underneath and I would wear my cloak over the top and a thin golden crown on my head but not a tacky crown, it would be an authentic, ancient-looking, thin gold band with swirly, twirly lattice things that I would twine harebells around and peacock-blue butterflies would flutter all around me as I skipped and danced through the enchanted forest that I reigned over as FAIRY QUEEN, or even FAIRY COURTESAN- I wouldn't mind as long as I had wings and was the size of a foxglove and lived in a palace made of tree bark covered in gold leaf.
It's so sad that I will probably never get to live my Dream Life.
I can't remember what I was going to say.
Oh, my dad was made up with his sardines! I saw him yesterday. I also saw my nana, she made me a money belt and made me put it on under my tights, then today in the bank I had to lift my dress up because I wanted to pay some money in. Jen was there, she will testify that I lifted up my dress to get money out of it and nobody battered an eyelid. I met Jen today in London for lunch before I got the Eurostar. It's weird to think that this morning I woke up at my dad's house in Liverpool. My littlest half brother, who is four, made me a crown out of red crepe paper. He was suggesting loads of other things I could turn it into- a tie, a bracelet, a necklace etc- and then he said:
"You could put it on your breast."
It was so weird hearing a tiny child saying the word 'breast', but I took it in my stride, holding the piece of red crepe paper across my dress and saying:
"Yeah! Like a bikini!"
He nodded in approval.
Later on I told my dad's girlfriend that her youngest child had suggested I put a piece of red crepe paper on my breast. She laughed for ages but then she had a thought:
"Are you sure he didn't say dress?"
Of course he did, thank God. (He's a little bit deaf and he's got a speech impediment, which makes him sound very cute but it obviously needs sorting out, otherwise he will get himself into some tricky situations when he's older, complimenting people on their 'pretty pink party breasts' etc.)
I don't really know what to say, just felt like doing a blog because it's been a while...
Oh yeah, New Year's Eve was really good!
Olivia's mum and dad had a joint 60th birthday party and they Personally Invited me. (Me! I've always been paranoid that my friends' parents disliked me for no real reason.) I know a 60th birthday party doesn't sound very ravey but LISTEN- you weren't there, you don't know that it wasn't ravey but ALSO- I've had a few ravey New Year's Eves but I've never had one where I was served blinis with smoked salmon and caviar, or Rose and Lychee Martini jellies, or pistachio crème brûlée, or mini yorkshire puddings topped with horseradish sauce and two bites of steak balancing on the top...
Everything was homemade. Most of the cooking was done by the time I arrived, although I did have to 'help' with the blinis- Olivia put me in charge of adding the smoked salmon but I spent so long looking for a knife and fork that she did it herself. And she didn't use a knife and fork.
Olivia's friends Laura, Rachel and Jane also came and we had a very merry time making the most of the endless supply of champagne. We didn't get too drunk, considering there was so much alcohol on offer, although I did force Olivia's second cousin- the only eligible bachelor at the party and unfortunately, five years too young for any of us- to cut my hair off.
It was to prove a point, but I honestly can't remember what the point was. All I know is that I was adamant he was going to cut my hair, because then I would win the arguement, even though I couldn't tell anybody what the aruguement was about. Thankfully none of the 'adults' saw us (you know what I mean, the people not in their twenties)- we carried out the whole seedy business in the kitchen, with just Olivia and her friends watching.
Olivia's friends tried to dissuade me, but all I would say was:
"If he cuts my hair, I win the arguement."
Also, he was wearing some sort of woolen collar and the deal was that he had to cut my hair and then take the collar off... I can vaguely understand what angle I was coming from but I still can't remember the exact details of the arguement. I just knew I had to win and to do that he had to cut my hair.
I was holding a chunk of my hair and waving it about in front of his face for a while, then Olivia gave him the scissors ("To be honest LBM," she said, "I think you could do with the haircut.") and he snipped it off, just like that.
He only cut a few inches off but it's the PRINCIPLE that matters. I won the arguement, nobody can ever say I didn't. And my hair really did need lobbing off. I keep meaning to go to the hairdressers but it's just so awkward and boring. It's much more fun bullying random teenagers at family parties to cut it for you.
Laura photographed the whole thing and I don't think my face is in all of the photos, so I'll be able to put up the photographic evidence soon.
I've got a new haircut and I'm full of sugar- I'm ready for 2013.
Also, for those of you who have been reading my posts RELIGIOUSLY (just Olivia and Amy then), I have sad news about Mizmiz Man- yep, I'm sure you can guess what happened. It's so sad that we never got to go out for that drink, but I'm sure he's happy wherever he is, texting girls, then not meeting them, to his heart's content...
Hold on, I'm not finished.
While I was home I caught the latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights on Channel 4. I loved it so much I thought my chest was going to explode. I don't know if that's just because I love the book so much though- I also love that version with Juliette Binoche and Ralph Fiennes, one day I made my uni friends watch it and they laughed all the way through.
A lot of people moaned about the latest adaptation, saying it was nothing like the book but I think if you didn't like the latest adaptation because you thought it was too different from the book, then you didn't get it. So there.
I watched it on my own, really late at night, looking out of the window at the dark hills, the mist rising from the earth just visible in the moonlight. While the credits rolled, accompanied by the perfect song and then, right at the end, by the sound of the wind, I just sat there, still bewitched by the story. I imagined myself jumping up and running to the kitchen, flinging the back door open and the wind rushing in off the hills, then I'd go out to the darkness, I'd clamber over the damp stone wall and I'd be off, over the moors...