Tag Archives: Claire


I have discovered that it is “against company policy” to allow customers to take pictures of the handbags in Harvey Nicks. The same handbags which are featured in their brochure Fugly Bagand the same handbags of which there are numerous pictures available on the net. Why? Because “You might copy the handbag”. Well, Harvey Nicks. If I were planning to copy the bag and make my fortune selling knock-offs in the market, then I would buy one, because I would need to take it to pieces. It was also a damned ugly handbag and the only reason I was taking a photo of it was because my big brother was posing with it and looked rather amusing, you humourless bunch of over-hyped, over-priced morons.

I have also discovered that my friends are lovely. They are wonderful, cake baking, happy Man Cakebirthday singing people and I love them dearly. I was however, completely mortified (but also very pleased) when they and the staff of the restaurant we had chosen to terrorise, sang me happy birthday and presented me with my cake (complete with un-blow-out-able candles). This isn’t a picture of the complete cake. I had already scoffed part of his anatomy before I took this. He was a rather well endowed cake person. Another discovery of the same evening is that neither I, nor Laura, nor Claire look good in a moustache. I have pictures to prove that, but I will be having them sealed in lead and buried at a secret location.

Wobbly WilliamsToday has been a day of food fights and Monopoly (not at the same time), much wandering around shops and wondering what on earth the bright yellow and bloody hot thing in the sky was. Speaking of shops, I found this the other day and no I did NOT buy it. In fact, for some reason, I find it mildly disturbing and I quite like Robbie Williams (Yes I know…).

Anyway, I’ll be back where I belong some time in the next couple of days and I will be paying a visit to Inverness next week, so if you would like to come and see me in Inverness on the 14th or 15th, please email me as soon as possible, my availability will be quite limited.


What I Did On My Holidays.

By Amanda (Aged 9 1/2)

Well, that’s how it feels. As soon as I think about updating folk on what I’ve been up to whilst gallivanting, I’m reminded of those bloody awful essays we were commanded to write at school after the summer holidays. I went to school with the kind of children whose compositions included such gems as “Whilst Father conducted his business in Karachi, the nanny and I…”, so I just used to tell great whopping lies in mine. Looking back, I think that I should find them and slap them for making me feel that my summer holidays were inferior. We spent quality time, going on picnics, visiting relatives and actually having family conversations, whilst my peers spent most of their childhood being paid to shut up and disappear.

Anyway, back to the point… What was it again? Oh yes! My travels and adventures. Continue reading

Gallivanting Again

Yes, it’s a hard life. Two visits to Inverness and a jolly to York to meet friends since last I blogged. Oh woe is me. *Grins*

It was my first visit to York and it’s a beautiful place, full of Tudor buildings and fabulous, winding, cobbled lanes. Unfortunately it was also full of people with cameras who feel it is their right in life to stop suddenly in front of you and while you are still on tiptoes, arms pin-wheeling helplessly,  trying to regain your balance without knocking them off their feet, they then step backwards (to get a better photo) and crush your poor abused toes. I say poor and abused because, just for once, I was wearing cheap shoes[1]. My Gran used to say that you should always wear good shoes and sleep in a decent bed. How right she was.

The bed that Claire and I shared in York (stop it, you smutty minded so’n’so) was perfectly adequate, but some genius or other had decided that not only was a mattress protector required, but that it should have a plastic backing. Add to that the fact that somebody had turned the electric heater up to “blast furnace” and the result is Claire and I waking up at 6:30am and looking accusingly at one another because the bed is soaking. Don’t worry, it was just sweat. If you’ve ever had rude thoughts about Claire and I sliding around on a bed, then there you go. Although I feel it only fair to let you know that we were both clad in rather fetching jim jams.

Going back to the shoes, I was seduced by the call of pretty, cheap shoes. They’ll do thought I. Pah! Bloody awful uncomfortable things! I ended up limping into M&S in York, grabbing a passing member of staff and begging her for comfy insoles. I was rather perturbed when she returned with a pair of the most phallic looking, gel based creations I have ever witnessed. Phallic or not, they were paid for and inserted into my boots rather sharpish, which involved Claire and I sharing a disabled toilet and making rather interesting sighing noises as we introduced our soles to the joy of gel.

There was a rather interesting array of market stalls in York. I (in my usual manner) would probably describe it as a “Hippie market”, although we overheard one woman refer to it (in finest BBC English accent) as “Ethnic”. In probably the same tone that she would command Jeeves to “Move those nasty Ethnics from the lawn”. Still, whether it was Ethnic or Hippie, the fact remains that odour emanating from the Pot-Pourri/Incense stall was exactly the pong I remember from 1970s bus shelters. Someone suggested that it was the mixture of whiffs which achieved this effect and whilst I’m sure there is at least the tiniest ring of veracity to that, I’m still shocked that A. Nobody outside our raiding shopping party seemed to notice and B. The stall owner hadn’t searched out the offending items and binned them.

Anyway, there was of course more to our weekend than pongy stalls and crippled feet, but I feel it has been covered by Laura and Claire, so if you really want to read about the river with ideas above it’s station, the fabulous food and company or that thing with the two girls and a sheep[2], then off you pop over to their respective blogs.

[1] To add insult to injury, on the soles of my feet destroying shoes, it says “Your feet feel wonderful”. I can tell you that this is absolutely not true.

[2] Ok, I made that one up… Sorry. Smile

I'm Leavin' On a Jet Plane

Doo doo dee doo de do de doooooo…

Off to Bristol tomorrow and from there it’s a Thelma & Louise style road trip to London with Claire. We’ll be there from Monday afternoon until Wednesday morning.

I must remember to pack my Stylophone…

Oh My God!! That’s a point. I haven’t packed yet!


My Future's Bright…


My future’s orange. Easyjet orange to be exact. 😀

I’m off to Londonshire with Claire for a quick visit. I’ll be available on the 1st (after about 3pm) and 2nd (all day) of February.

Email or Text me to make arrangements.

See you soon 🙂 xx

Quote of the day:
Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. – Oscar Wilde

Important Announcement.

Having experienced it on several different occasions, I can now announce that:

There is absolutely nothing wrong with Claire’s driving!


In fact I would go as far as to say that Claire is a bloody good driver.

Thank you for listening.

Amanda x

Quote of the day:
There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes. – Doctor Who