Anna came in my hour of need this weekend to take away my ellie blues. This was in light of Belle being faffed about at the hospitals of the world and to be honest - both Anna and I needed a bloody day off! I demanded she brought her glad rags - for we were to venture into the depths of a lesser society in a suburb of Wigan for a night on't tiles. This lasted precisely one hour and 30 minutes. We are soooo feeling our ages with incessant smoke inhalation, beer that tasted like dish water and leery 12 year old boys pretending to be 30 something. We wanted to go back to the house and get into our jim jams, eat chocs and watch a movie. In this case we watched Coyote Ugly. Whilst we enjoyed it, we did end up feeling rather fat and unworthy of life as the girls in that movie - goddang!!! Figures to die for or what? We wanna open a bar like that (with a crop room at the back o' course!. )
We took a photography trip down to the albert docks in liverpool. It's tres cosmopolitan down there with fabulous imposing red columns holding the buildings up, wonderful brick archways and high heel crippling cobbled paths. We had a scream playing with our cameras and anna took a moody wee shot of me (manipulated to hide tired blemishes!!). She took some great shots with her super duper papparazzi number so go and read her blog later.
But you know what - the most terrible thing happened whilst we were there. We only happened to drop in at a fabbo scrap shop (and in the northwest darlings - scrap shops are RARE). Both Anna and I mooched around the shop on our own little adventures and got to the till and spent exactly £62 each. And we bought totally different things. My most fabbest purchase was deffo the whale of a punch retro flower and some comlpete and utter scrumpsh rubber stamps for 80p each. What a great day we had and we were so looking forward to a lazy retreat when we got back until we doscovered the smell again in our house. Mark and I had scrubbed behind the radiator and found nothing to pin point the problem and I fear its coming from beneath the skirting boards. I have this immense dread of unearthing a body or something equally as hideous. What could it be? Answers on a box of bazzill cardstock to my usualy address.