Going loco down in the big smoko. (THE MADS!!!!)
This weekend I am heading to the big smoke.
I don’t really know why they call it the big smoke but according to Wikipedia it is because it was labeled as such in the late 19th century and applied in particular to the great smog of 1952.
‘What’s a smog?’ I had asked the Irish one last night when I had been aimlessly wandering about on the internet fishing for tit bits of information off Google and perusing photos of the hotel I will be staying in and trying not to crap my pants at the thought of the unlimited opportunities to embarrass myself over this coming weekend, that I will no doubt fulfil.
‘A smog? Why the bloody hell are you reading about smog’s?’ he asks never for one moment taking his eyes off the football.
‘I just thought I should do a bit of research on London after the last time, you know, so that in case I get lost again, I will know what to do.’
He looks perplexed and finally turns to look at me.
‘Ok’ he says slowly ‘so what site are you on that’s warning you about smog’s? It is supposed to be cracking the flags this weekend, is it multi-map? That sight is impossible, check AA route finder instead.’
‘Ok.’ I respond resigning myself to the fact I should probably try to ignore all smog related literature as the last thing I need is to be doing is worrying about a big black cloud of smoke descending on me while I am stood with my pop-up map outside of Euston station. ‘I suppose if I get lost again I can always find a local Starbucks, camp out and call you in tears, then you could search on the internet and tell me where I am, and to stop panicking.’ I finish.
‘Like last time?’ he retorts deadpan.
‘Just like last time.’ I confirm smiling up at him.
At this, most unexpectedly, he gets up and walks out, muttering something about how if I had a brain i’d be dangerous.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask outraged by his complete abandonment to my cause.
‘Here’ He says walking back in and throwing the AA map from out of the car at me, ‘plot your route.’
I glare at him from behind the safety of my laptop ‘I’ll do it ONLINE, if you don’t mind, I’m not a total idiot.’
‘Ok’ he nods unconvinced and returns to watching football as I hit the Google search bar and throw the map book on the floor. Plot indeed, who does he think I am Bear Gyrlls? Next he will be asking me to shred a snakeskin and drink my own wee, or something equally as ridiculous.
I type AA route finder in to Google, hit enter, but for some reason Asos pops up, and I have to be honest, I am momentarily distracted by the Scene on Screen.
‘So have you found your route?’ he asks 90 minutes later once again remembering I exist.
‘Yes’ I say shoving my credit card down the side of the sofa, my new red glittery shoes (which will help me find my way, I am off to see the wizard the wonderful wizard of blog!) ordered on next day delivery.
‘Good.’ He states and the conversation is closed. (Ultimately, if the worst happens I will call him from starbucks, what is he going to do? Hang up?)
I never really read about London before, or know much about it, I know x factor is filmed there though and I know that this weekend I am heading to the Talk Talk center to hopefully meet some truly precious ladies, drink a few glasses of wine (It’s still free right?) and discover for myself who has won all these sparkly, well deserved, prestigious awards they will be handing out.
My bladder is repeatedly reminding me of how anxious, scared, nervous and thrilled I am by the fact I am a finalist in the ‘Best new blog’ category in the mummy and daddy blog awards, I am still a little gob smacked to be honest.
I can hardly believe I made it in with the sheer quality of some of the other blogs I am up against and I feel hugely honoured and grateful to all my readers who voted for me, and who continue to read my mad ramblings.
I am not anxious that I will not win, as I do not really expect to, just being nominated is a huge accolade and I am honestly over the moon. (I have a good idea of who will win and she is bloody brilliant so it is hugely deserved.)
I am not that nervous that I will make a complete tit of myself, tripping over and garroting myself and probably pulling down some one else’s dress in my haste to stay upright, on my newly purchased 7 inch heels, because that is a given. (Seriously, if you see me coming, I’d move. They don’t call me ‘ten pin’ for nothing.)
And I am not that scared by how many people I will need to chat too, and be open with, and look in the eyes, when I am still so caught by post natal depression that my confidence is at an all time low and at my best I have been described as ‘withdrawn.’ I just hope I don’t come across as rude, because it isn’t that at all.
NO, the real reason I am scared, nervous and anxious is because sometimes (all the time, according to himself) I have a terrible tendency to sleep talk, sleep scream and most horrifically sleep trump, and I am sharing a room with a lovely lady I have never met.
I feel like I should apologise to her in advance really.
‘Good god, she is going to wake up with her duvet floating on the ceiling, shaking like a shitting dog, for the love of Jesus just don’t tell her in the middle of the night there is a man stood at the end of her bed, like you do with me, or you’ll give the poor girl a hernia’ was the Irish one’s helpful encouraging remark.
I may pack a Valium.
Anyway I am about to go and pack, shave my leg hair which could now alternatively be styled, take a chainsaw to my toenails and paint them, wax my monobrow and apply a generous amount of Morrison’s own Tantastic to my blue pasty skin, as orange is the colour of the season and I want to appear trendy.
I am stuck in the house waiting for my new shoes to arrive anyway, the shoes which will guide me to wherever I need to go, it would honestly be impossible for me to get lost in these shoes I promise, wait till you see them, and even if a smog does come, which according to the weather app on my iPhone it wont, these shoes will cut through the smoke and lead the way home. I just know it.
God bless ASOS.
Before I go though, I just wanted to wish each and every finalist good luck and well done for all you have achieved this year. Whether we win or not, we are sharing our journeys, and that is fantastic, incredible and in a lot of ways, very brave. It is not always easy to serve your life up on a plate for others to read and for that reason, award or not, I hereby award you all with the mammywoo seal of congratulations.
I would also like to extend a huge thank you to the amazing ladies who have organised this event and have given me something to look forward to for the entire summer, even when i was in hospital. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
You all rock.
Right I’m off to wash my tracky bottoms and complete the above.
Oh, and Marissa? I cannot wait to meet you but I really am sorry in advance.
I know there isn’t a smog planned, but do you own a spare gas mask? I’d bring it.