tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55468889124897240522024-03-21T21:35:32.799-07:00SHY BAIRNS GET NOWTSamantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comBlogger270125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-90578207109149695202014-07-24T09:27:00.002-07:002014-07-24T09:27:35.533-07:00NEW BLOGSo, I've hopped, skipped and jumped ship to a shiny new blog!! Dedicated entirely to the trials and tribulations of doing up our first property! Head on over to the link below to catch up on the latest milesstones, and mishaps!! <br />
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<a href="http://hjemeastlondon.blogspot.co.uk/">http://hjemeastlondon.blogspot.co.uk/</a><br />
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Lots of love, it's been a blast<br />
Samantha xSamantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-56520932528849931152014-07-11T02:58:00.001-07:002014-07-11T02:58:56.327-07:00HAUSSo, six months later here we are, still married, nothing has been broken, apart from a very nice vase, which happened in the move, because Simply Removals were, quite frankly, shit.<br />
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The stress of living in a building site comes in waves. It comes in very strong tsunami style waves. The first three months, we had no kitchen. So were trying to be as inventive as possible with avocadoes, hummnus and pitta bread, as you can imagine, that got boring after about a week...<br />
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When I first saw running water in the kitchen I cried, when the base cabinets went in I was giddy and when the slate was tiled, I needed a lie down. It it quite incredible how a ROOM could reduce me to tears. I have always taken "the kitchen" for granted. I love to cook, love love love it. I love being in kitchens, it is the heart of a home, so to be without that anchoring for that long affected me more than I thought it would! <br />
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We currently have builders in five days a week, and the flat is eventually starting to take shape. We are on the home stretch now...<br />
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-36095973153112513542014-01-07T00:39:00.000-08:002014-01-07T00:39:13.574-08:00HAUSAfter a very long time dreaming, and being FED UP of paying other people's mortgages, we have eventually secured our very first property! We are official owners of a (rather run down) beautiful two bed warner property in the ever growing E17.<br />
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I abslolutely cannot WAIT to get stuck in! There is alot to do, when I say alot, I mean everything really... From the windows, to the floorboards, to the kitchen (horror scene,) to the bathroom (there is no floor currently and you can see into the neighbours downstairs!) But this does not phase us one bit (maybe it should?) We are too excited to watch our first little home grow. We were extremely lucky to find the property, so roll on 2014, the year of DIY! I sense some champagne, some tantrums and some splinters to come! <br />
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-47722086810221617652013-12-23T02:41:00.000-08:002013-12-23T02:44:22.444-08:00So this is Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<u>MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL!</u></div>
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I managed to get all my Christmas shopping done in one fell swoop. I wasn't expecting it, and it did indeed, take me by surprise! Ladies and Gentlemen, the secret? The Royal Exchange! It has EVERYTHING for your present buying needs. <br />
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1) It is not Oxford Circus- good enough.<br />
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2) It is not Oxford Circus- such a good point, is deserves two spaces.<br />
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3) It's main shoppers are city folk, who know what they want, when they want and DO NOT DAWDLE. Also meaning, that if you shop betwen 10-12 and then 2-4 there will be NO ONE around as they will be working away in their offices.<br />
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4) Agent Provocateur, Jo Malone, Smythson, Penhaligons, Laduree, and Paul A. Young: all staples in my shopping buying list.<br />
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5) It is a stones throw away from Cheapside- for Space NK, Paperchase, Daunt Books, Topshop, M&S, and Oliver Bonas! All great for stocking fillers! The only thing missing is a Wolford really.... And of course COS, but I am just being selfish now.<br />
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So now you know for next year! All hail The Royal Exchange! <br />
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Seasons greetings, have a wonderful Christmas! <br />
<br />Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-56650669235934504552013-12-23T02:26:00.001-08:002013-12-23T02:26:19.281-08:00WEST COAST PART IV<strong>Venice Beach</strong><br />
Well better late than never.......<br />
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We drove from Twentynine Palms to the Cabazon Dinosaurs, a childhood dream of Rachel's. For those who have no idea what the Cabazon Dino's are, they are huge metal(?) sculptures of dinosaurs on the road side. Mind blowing, you can actually go inside the t'rex's mouth, but I couldn't be arsed. I hear it was shaky. <br />
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We also paid to go into the outdoor dino museum, with mechanical dinosaurs. This was hysterical (shit.) We then went to the WORST gas station diner EVER. We agreed never to talk about the grey chicken again (so apologies for bringing it back up.) The maltshakes were good though.<br />
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We drove into LA and straight to our final airbnb home in Abbot Kinney. Abbott Kinney is full of beautiful people. Even the ugly people are beautiful because they are so so happy. We were a 5 minute walk to Venice Beach, and the sun just shone shone shone!<br />
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The first afternoon we walked the length of Venice to Santa Monica and had some pretty bad mexican from what I remember, we then found an amazing bar called The Galley and got ratarsed here. It was all decked out in old school nautical objects with coloured fairylights, quite trippy.<br />
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Over the next few days we rode horses in the Topanga Canyon, rode the roller coaster in Santa Monica, saw Hollywood, put my fingers in the imprints at Mann's Chinese Theatre Show, watched wild dolphins jumping in the sea about 50 metres away from us in Malibu, got tattoos (Paul and Dan,) walked around and around and just became general beach babes. We ate in some mind blowing places- Gelina on Abbot Kinney and Swingers diner being my perdsonal faves. We ate in some not so nice places, cue 3 of the party throwing up in the 35 degree heat in the back streets on someone's left over pizza from the night before. LUSH. <br />
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The flight home was depressing to say the least, but I watched a fair few Leo movies to get my through it.<br />
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Thanks for the memories West Coast, you were amazing.<br />
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-59982360466702142482013-10-02T00:59:00.000-07:002013-10-02T00:59:37.160-07:00West Coast Part III<strong>Palm Springs and Twentynine Palms</strong><br />
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Before I had even crossed seas, I knew Palm Springs would be my favourite part of this trip. And it didn't fail to meet expectations. After driving through the Mojave Desert, and narrowly avoiding one of the infamous flash storms, we arrived at our mid century h(e)aven at around 4ish. This was our second airbnb venture of the trip. A whole 1960's villa with private pool for a (very) reasonable sum. Mid century, with mod cons. My idea of PERFECT. By this point we had mastered the lockbox, and were in with no troubles. Dan had needed a wee for about 30 miles so we were all happy to get inside.<br />
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Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in this place was amazing. From the toiletries (method) to the towels (Lacoste.) The chairs, to the tables (Eames, Saarinen, and Bertoia) Even the drawers in the kitchen were labelled. LOVE. I'm really annoyed at myself for not taking more pictures of the actual house, so <a href="https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/468113">here</a> is the airbnb link. We googled local restaurants, and drove to The Cowboy Way BBQ grill. Now, everyone who knows me, knows I LOVE Bodean's. This place kicked Bodean's out of the park. It wasn't award winning for nothing, afterall. I had the sliders, of brisket, pulled pork and tri tip. It was amaazing. Try their corn bread too if you are ever wandering Palm Springs.<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After we finished dinner we drove to a supermarket and stocked up for our three day trip. We then jumped in the pool and had ourselves a little pool party! I think we were probably asleep by 10...</span></div>
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The next day, the 42 degree heat had us up and about very early. Rachel found the pool toys, including a whale intended for a seven year old. He became the mascot. That night ordred Indian... Steve came into the house to practically serve it for us. Nice guy. Think we fell asleep at 9 watching back to back family guy. Ravers.<br />
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Our last day we had two dramas. We ventured back to the BBQ place, and Rachel had a little sunstroke turn, and on the way to the pharmacy I skimmed Dan's foot with the monster truck. A very. Narrow. Miss. To say the least.<br />
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The last morning we ventured into Twin Peaks for breakfast, and they were displaying HUGE desserts around the tables at 10am... It was very confusing, but the decor was all walnut wood and red velvet. Lovely.<br />
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We drove into Twentynine Palms, the land of army training I believe. We stopped via Pioneer Town for smoe antique rummaging and just to see Pappy and Harriet's as it didn't open till 5pm, which was a great shame. We bought some amazing jewelery from The Hoof and The Horn. Everyone should check them out! <br />
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Twentynine Palms runs right alongside the Joshua Tree. I hear many a desert army training is done here. We rolled up to The <a href="http://www.29palmsinn.com/">Twentyninepalms Inn</a>, and checked in. We had been recommended this little retreat by a few people. I kind of thought it resembled a hostel. But hey ho... Anything would have looked like a hostel after our Palm Springs abode. I was a little annoyed as we had requested a hammock room, but they "upgraded" us to a room which was way too big for the party and we didn't really need the extra space, I wanted the bloody hammock! Alas it was already allocated to someone else. There were also two dogs in reception, and we all know how I feel about dogs. One of them was famous for some reason. Hollywood dog. Well he didn't look like Lassie, or Beethoven, or Cujo (thank GOD) to me. After my growling about the 1990's spanish decor, we took a lovely walk in the grounds and found a public hammock. I was happy again. We had dinner in the inn's restaurant, and there was a live folk singer... With no mic. Barely audible. However the food was lush. Slept like a baby to the sounds of the desert.<br />
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Next stop Venice beach. </div>
Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-12233568193783056422013-09-25T07:40:00.003-07:002013-09-25T07:40:57.087-07:00OH SHIT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-86830026175404925152013-09-20T10:08:00.002-07:002013-10-02T03:48:55.112-07:00Black Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-16757710570989659492013-09-19T00:52:00.000-07:002013-09-19T00:53:16.396-07:00West Coast Part II<strong>Death Valley, Shoshone and Vegas</strong><br />
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The night before we flew to LAX, I had a mild nervous breakdown. Everything was ready, everything was packed, preeened, dyed, cut.. etc. I sat down with a glass of wine and called my Mum to say goodbye for three weeks. After the usual "have a great trip etc, take lots of pictures, came the statuatory parental "DONT FORGET YOUR PASSPORT" CHECK, "DONT FORGET YOUR DRIVING LICENCE" CHECK "DONT FORGET THE PAPER PART OF YOUR DRIVING LICENCE"<br />
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THE WHAT?!<br />
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"Samantha, your driving licence has two parts. The plastic card and the counterpart..."<br />
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THE COUNTERWHAT?!<br />
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"Oh Samantha! You'll not be able to drive without it!"<br />
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Bearing in mind that this whole trip is DRIVING across the west coast, I started to freak out. I rarely lose my shit, I think of myself as a calm collected individual, but on this occasion, I lost it. I hung up on Mother and called the car rental company who indeed confirmed I would need both parts. I didn't even know the paper part existed! It has been nearly ten years since I passed my test. The DVLA is shut, the post office is shut. So I proceeded to do the ever so productive method of TEAR THE HOUSE APART. We had done a deep clean during the week so the house was pristine... Not for longggg. I pulled out every single drawer that could possibly contain said "counterpart" Nada, nothing. Cue tears, and mascara streaming, and very probably SHRIEKING at Paul "WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO DO!?" No one else can drive, and I'm about to RUIN everyone's holiday. Nothing I can do apart from pray it wouldn't matter when we got there.<br />
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Anywayyy........<br />
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The flight from San Fran back to LAX I was a wreck. I had visions of having to get the greyhound bus everywhere. My desert driving dreams were becoming blurred. We got our cases and headed to the shuttle bus. When we disembarked shuttle, The Velvet Underground were playing out of the speakers. I had a good feeling. And as we walked into the building, lo and behold, a SELF SERVICE kiosk. I put in my details and it printed a receipt. THAT'S IT?! That was it.... Giddy, I skipped to the SUV pick up area and selected what appeared to be a monster truck. I have never driven on the other side of the road before, but figured I had to do it at some stage so why not do it in the one of the worst cities to drive in, in a MASSIVE 4 x 4. Clever. We picked up the sat nav and off we went. Funnily enough driving in LA is very easy. The blogs I read of the awful traffic and crazy drivers I felt were over exaggerated. Authors of said blogs have clearly never driven in London.... I got used to the other side quickly and was soon my usual road ragey self. However I was told NEVER to beep in LA. It's bad etiquette. Easier said than done.<br />
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We drove out of LA through Death Valley. Death Valley was breathtaking. I thought I would get bored of driving in the desert after the inital "WOW FACTOR" wore off. I didn't. It constantly changes and you can actually see the rotation of the earth. It's just incredible. I never thought it would be as quiet as it looks in the films. I assumed they cleared the roads for filming. But it was literally dead. I don't think we saw another car for twenty minutes. We got out of the car to takes photos after about 45 minutes in, and obviously we had the air con on so the SHOCK of stepping out into the 52 degree heat blew me away. I think we managed ten minutes before we had to get back in the car. We got some amazing photos though.It's a fantastic feeling to be blow away by nature, and get some energy from a natural force as opposed to man made parks and buildings for once.<br />
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We then drove another hour and a half to Shoshone Village. I wonder if that's where Shoshone from "Girls" gets her name... Took some photos/ pictures, Dan and I bought an AMAZING t shirt (1 each, not to share,) and then hopped back in monster truck and headed to VEGAS.<br />
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Now I'm not really sure what I was expecting from Vegas. I'd had mixed reviews from lots of people. I thought Vegas would be pretty straightforward to drive in, considering it is one straight road! WRONG. Our hotel car park had works in it, with no "diversion" signs or alternate route to get to the temporary one. We couldn't even have access to the valet. So we drove round for an HOUR. Eventually it was all too much, by this time I had been driving for eight hours, and it was pitch black. I drove over the pavement into a disabled parking spot and barked at Paul to go and find out where we needed to go. We eventually found the valet parking and checked into our rooms. We got dressed up and went to a bar IN a chandelier in the Cosmopolitan. It was shit. It was overpriced and full of 40 years olds with their white cotton thong hanging out as they fell over cackling. There is no exclusivity in Vegas, and it just reminded me of the Bigg Market in Newcastle<br />
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We went back to the hotel to play a little blackjack. Now in friends they all have a whale of a time. In swingers they all have a whale of a time. In the HANGOVER they all have a whale of a time. And I'm assuming Britney had a great time too, but I just felt like all the dealers/ anyone that worked there felt a bit dead inside/ a bit vacant. Dan said "hit me" just like Joey in friends, and the dealer corrected him and said "you don't say hit me, you tap the table..." Chill out. So we all lost money, the dealer always wins obvs. I won $3.75 on the slots and decided to cash in early....</div>
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The next day I felt a bit better about Vegas. The sun was shining (42 degrees) and we did a little walk around of the famous spots. Caesars palace was amazing! We looked at treasure island and the Venetian etc. Much prefer this place in the day and also not after 8 hours of driving. That evening we went to see the Love show by cirque do soliel. All your fave Beatles songs under one roof. It was amazing. That night after the show Dan invented a dance in a bar where someone was motorboating and we took it back to the hotel room to play some decent, non shite music.</div>
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I guess I was expecting Vegas to be a bit more retro, a bit more vibrant and full of life, not people plugged into auto pilot. I'm still glad I went as I've always wanted to see it, but probably won't be returning. </div>
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We fell asleep and woke up with Palm Springs and the Mojave desert in our sights. </div>
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-29352069519877500292013-09-17T06:09:00.000-07:002013-09-17T06:25:21.449-07:00West Coast Part I<strong>San Francisco</strong><br />
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Well I don't even know where to start with this post. Apart from the usual "the trip that changed my life" crap. It was nine months in the making, I felt like it was a bloody baby!<br />
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When we boarded on the 24th August California Dreaming, I couldn't quite believe how quickly it had come around. United Airlines had upgraded us to Premium Economy after a slight complaint regarding something or nothing, and a quick mention it was a joint honeymoon. Worried they thought we were a weird four way couple... We aren't.</div>
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On to important matters, the films on the plane. There was quite a decent selection. I believe I watched Friends (obvs,) Girls, 21 Jump Street (mega hilare) and probably other stuff that I cannot remember. Food was shite. Natch. <br />
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We touched down eleven hours later and connected incredibly smoothly to San Francisco, one of my most anticiapted destinations. My ongoing obsession (paranoia) of "my suitcase going missing" bored the entire party, but lo and behold suitcase materialised unharmed. We caught a taxi to our first Airbnb place. This was the first airbnb I have rented, everything appeared incredibly easy thus far. We got out the taxi and the first thing I noticed was the strong smell of piss. Nice one San Fran. Dan tried to work the infamous "lockbox" but none of us could open the damn thing, but fortunately our hosts neighbour rocked up just in time to show us how said lockbox is accessed. The apartment was a beaut. Big moose head thing x 2, 60's light fixtures, bullets, the usual. And a distinct smell of gas. Now, I had been awake for 24 hours and was still standing only thanks to adrenaline so Paul told me I was paranoid. But I would not rest. So knocked on neighbours door, who said it was indeed an ongoing issue and turned off the gas. YOU ARE WELCOME PAUL, FOR NOT BEING GASSED IN YOUR SLEEP. We headed out to Mission in search of a burger. Harder than you may think! We had a drink then started seeing triple. Jet lag was setting in, so we stumbled home and fell straight asleep. <br />
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Our first full day, we hit Divisadero for breakfast and then walked up towards Haight to do the tourist thing. We visited Amoeba, the Golden Gate Park, then trollied over to the Beat Museum. The Beat Museum was incredible. We popped into City Lights bookstore then we ventured into Vesuvio, which is said to be the bar where Beat poetry was founded. After Dan smashed a glass we headed out to meet one of Paul's friends Nathan, who originates from Brighton but has been in San Fran for a few years. Nathan took us to some good bars and a dirt cheap Mexican takeaway, which Rachel compalined contained too much calcium. </div>
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Monday was Alcatraz. We took a cable car up to <span class="st">The Embarcadero to walk along Fisherman's Wharf. Rachel and I shared a HUGE Sundae, and then had a hotdog. Back to front eating right there. We then took the boat to Alcatraz. The audio cell tour was so good. You could go inside the cells, including the isolation cells which were petrifying. Totally ghosty. That night we met Nathan in a cute Italian before he went to LA for a few days. It had a Mickey Mouse in the bathroom, which was a bit weird.</span><br />
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<span class="st">The last day we headed to the Castro and then the Golden Gate Bridge. We walked to the Castro to an amazing restaurant called Little Orphan Andy's which has been there since the 60's. It was right next to the Twin Peaks bar which was the world's first glass fronted (as opposed to opaque/ hidden away) gay bar. We had ourselves a little pancake party, and Paul got his hair cut by an old school barber and then jumped on a bus to the bridge.</span></div>
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<span class="st">I recently read that on average one person per week kills themselves on this Bridge, making it the number one suicide spot I believe. Apparently people are so in awe of the beauty they choose to end their life there. It really is beautiful. But thankfully no one chose to end their life and we came back a four piece. We were lucky enough, in my opinion, to be there when the fog started to come, so we watched the bridge become engulfed by this fog. It was eerie. And all of a sudden very cold. We walked along the bridge, and all the way along there are signs such as "It's not too late." "Call this number for help..." etc. which is rather unsettling. We then headed back to our favourite cafe in Divisadero for our last lunch in San Fran. That night we ate Mexican and Dan nearly got headbutted by a homeless guy. Always making friends. Such a northern charmer.</span><br />
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<span class="st">I loved walking around San Francisco. It is such a small city, but feels so full of culture and life. It's memories and its stories are rife and you can still feel it. The history, I suppose is not that vast, but I liked feeling it's purpose in history is still very present. </span></div>
Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-21511740846340417762013-06-04T15:30:00.001-07:002013-06-04T15:30:07.064-07:00Catmobile<div>Moving house is stressful enough. Never mind throwing two very sensitive Egyptian gods into the mix. </div><div><br></div><div>1) Make them feel part of the move. We built a "jungle gym" for cats out of boxes. Stack them up high. They will feel taller and more powerful than ever before. Little do they know we will be ripping their very world from under their pampered paws to the land of EAST 17. </div><div><br></div><div>2) Moving day. Secure the cats in one room. Bedroom. Hiding under the duvet. Battle to get cat in carriers. Quite literally World War III. Transport cats to new location. Secure in bedroom. Open "cage." </div><div><br></div><div>"Well... You think I'm getting out now? Oh you'd love that wouldn't you. No thankyou. I will wait here. Take me home" </div><div><br></div><div>"This is home now."</div><div><br></div><div>"Excuse me? I don't understand what you just said."</div><div><br></div><div>We battle like this for a while and I decide its best to let them stew. They will come round. After all this new kingdom is larger, more to reign over and all that. </div><div><br></div><div>3) Cats find secret location in bedroom. 11pm. We turn off lights. Oh right, NOW would be a fucking fantastic time for you to come out and go shit crazy. Like a cat version of the matrix. </div><div><br></div><div>4) No sleep. Cats hate me. Back into hiding. WHY did we move again? </div><div><br></div><div>"Come on. Just eat SOMETHING."</div><div><br></div><div>"No thanks. I'm not really hungry. I think I will just STARVE... You won't mind. You didn't seem to think it necessary to inform me of a change of address so I'm sure you won't miss me when I'm gone"</div><div><br></div><div>We leave the house and return to empty bowls.</div><div><br></div><div>"Oh good. You ate something..."</div><div><br></div><div>"Me? No. I'm not eating remember."</div><div><br></div><div>"Oh. Where did your food go then?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Can't help you."</div><div><br></div><div>5) Night two. We are still filming the matrix. Tomorrow they are being forced to explore at least the hallway. </div><div><br></div><div>"Yes there is indeed more to the new home than this bedroom"</div><div><br></div><div>6) Coax felines out of bedroom with toys treats and trickery. Shut bedroom door behind them. Now they have to get used to the longest hall way ever. </div><div><br></div><div>7) New hiding place under a cupboard. </div><div><br></div><div>"Now remember Alabama... We have a pact. You always break. We have to stay strong. It's harder to break us in force, in numbers" </div><div><br></div><div>"Yes. Definitely"</div><div><br></div><div>"Hello miaows. Don't be shy! Come out! I've got your favourite crack for cats treat!"</div><div><br></div><div>"Shit Clarence! What do I do?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Ignore Alabama. It's bribery"</div><div><br></div><div>"I can't do it. I want the treats"</div><div><br></div><div>JENGA. </div><div><br></div><div>Day four. They are loving the place. Albeit a little nervous but they are doing very well indeed. Well done guys. Claps all round. </div><div><br></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-8932727102692011352013-05-29T11:18:00.001-07:002013-05-29T11:18:59.707-07:00Harmonic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-14941511388524370132013-02-20T10:20:00.001-08:002013-02-20T10:23:51.556-08:00Six six sixWell we all know that being skinny is bad nowadays. And fat is the new thin. And if Victoria Beckham dares to lose an ounce the tabloids eat her alive. And if someone gains 20 stone they look "healthy" and are a great role model.<br />
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I'm slim. I have a small frame. I can't help it. Nor will I apologise or excuse it. I'm not anorexic and I never have been. I think we should learn to love the frame we are born with and learn to love our shapes and accept others. I'm a bit fed up of feeling guilty for being a size 8. <br />
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"Men prefer something to grab on to" "curvy is sexy" and so on and so forth. No one would dare say skinny was sexy these days. <br />
<br />
Well sorry but my guy likes my bony hip bones and my modest chest. And so do I. Different strokes for different folks. I'm happy with the way I look. I think we should all just at least try and be grateful for who we are rather than constantly being bullied and pushed and shoved into the latest craze of a body shape. We are all beautiful, we are all different, so lets just get on with it. <br />
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<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxFB1A4Dx5QH4yDoMyWgUyYhfe0UDysQGcxvFIjTI_lguWbT1VhM1xlnwlaHXWGQJlQqqp6-FCs13fP1To19_r8oyLGHkGJhcZNQldyrt8t_PaS-wZ9JwSt8NFKuIc7AtRQi7mLeVFVLV/s640/blogger-image-1138922464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxFB1A4Dx5QH4yDoMyWgUyYhfe0UDysQGcxvFIjTI_lguWbT1VhM1xlnwlaHXWGQJlQqqp6-FCs13fP1To19_r8oyLGHkGJhcZNQldyrt8t_PaS-wZ9JwSt8NFKuIc7AtRQi7mLeVFVLV/s640/blogger-image-1138922464.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-16293097079521973072013-02-13T01:25:00.001-08:002013-02-13T01:25:18.498-08:00Over reactingI awoke at three am. SORE THROAT! Cue nightmares about being ill before the wedding. <br />
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I awoke for a second time at five am. Sore throat still there. I reassured myself there is still three and a half weeks till the wedding! Better now than later! Fitfully and reluctantly dozed off. <br />
<br />
Arose at 8am, called doctor. Now am waiting for appointment at 11:20. Hot water and lemon done. <br />
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Pffffff<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6f10UMEnAY1kUZFQOI_B772zijkX6kWcNKCtknd2azQXfn4nzQIX_YI4jC4C4S1VH2OyBNZ7KUJCd_qw4w8HzgpttLNaZUqPZlsO4Y4qK5KZMs04yRgh73agJv7Ix0rncXyi4qQ_JDaok/s640/blogger-image-1926027550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6f10UMEnAY1kUZFQOI_B772zijkX6kWcNKCtknd2azQXfn4nzQIX_YI4jC4C4S1VH2OyBNZ7KUJCd_qw4w8HzgpttLNaZUqPZlsO4Y4qK5KZMs04yRgh73agJv7Ix0rncXyi4qQ_JDaok/s640/blogger-image-1926027550.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-85243484609523743762013-02-11T10:59:00.000-08:002013-02-13T01:15:41.539-08:00SongsChoosing the song to will walk down the aisle to seemed like one of the most daunting decisions with regards to wedding wanderings. <br />
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Yet we just both looked at each other and said the exact same thing. A song that means alot to us in alot of ways.<br />
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You will just have to wait till the day to find out what it is. <br />
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But here's a clue... It's not pulp. <br />
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-69720916020346468072013-02-10T15:08:00.001-08:002013-02-10T15:08:38.424-08:00Hair scareEverything is planned to the last detail. Every little thing....<br />
<br />
"Is everything all set? Dress? Shoes? Catering etc"<br />
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Yep. Yep. Yep. Yep. <br />
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Everything apart from my bloody hair! The natural perfectionist (and by perfectionist I me OCDist) doesn't feel too comfortable with this arrangement. <br />
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Up? Down? Half up? Shave the bloody thing off and spray paint it with glitter?<br />
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Who knows. That's the fun. You will all just have to wait and see! Xxxx<br />
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<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Lmb7SNG6HylkBEo26CfgY7bcAeQ5N7ars4gNw7qppvF5PbfKfAwIDpcDcR1TEn6RyD8trf1Zy2lEiZyWBu6o2fkYe2Gn6gQQTyBZ0ASsjOYKX4cJ0WE_a9PiXysfqS4qMT55OqEXNwiv/s640/blogger-image-2078864167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Lmb7SNG6HylkBEo26CfgY7bcAeQ5N7ars4gNw7qppvF5PbfKfAwIDpcDcR1TEn6RyD8trf1Zy2lEiZyWBu6o2fkYe2Gn6gQQTyBZ0ASsjOYKX4cJ0WE_a9PiXysfqS4qMT55OqEXNwiv/s640/blogger-image-2078864167.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-72959502327479824512013-02-10T14:57:00.001-08:002013-02-10T14:57:47.254-08:00Seating planDrafting up the seating plan for the wedding! <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdne0egTvRXNWx-zQpaBCOJM1aqai5xEaL3rqE9fq1dfmThzT-b3ztT2bhy1H7POHcGt-CpBrJNylcvGs2a481pH1Nr2yIuywP84kJW8u55Va4MXCalJadF5indPTiZzFJHpL-KC1LSzdt/s640/blogger-image--984083096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdne0egTvRXNWx-zQpaBCOJM1aqai5xEaL3rqE9fq1dfmThzT-b3ztT2bhy1H7POHcGt-CpBrJNylcvGs2a481pH1Nr2yIuywP84kJW8u55Va4MXCalJadF5indPTiZzFJHpL-KC1LSzdt/s640/blogger-image--984083096.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-60364508531245120662013-02-06T00:48:00.001-08:002013-02-06T12:53:42.342-08:00Flowers£950 I was quoted for flowers for the wedding. I was horrified. Near on a grand for something that is going to die within a week.<br />
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With that in mind I set about doing my own. <br />
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"WHAT!" <br />
<br />
"You're absolutely crazy!" <br />
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Etc etc. insert quotes similar to above from majority of the world.<br />
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Nevertheless, I was not deterred. <br />
<br />
So with maids of honours in tow I dragged them to covent garden flower market in Vauxhall (no idea why it's called covent garden flower market when it's not even in covent garden?!) at 6am (on a saturday) for a trial run...<br />
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The flower market was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. It was like a secret garden. Absolutely outstanding. And a fraction, and I mean a FRACTION, of the cost.<br />
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We then set about making the flowers. Which was incredibly rewarding. I like the fact that me and my maids will have made them. I think it makes it much more personal and special. Not to mention saving my myself about £700. <br />
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X<br />
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<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3n1AXedva7BwPwxjtCV7o_22aVCleSmEog7jFd9hKosRKn_KrCxH01-Y2VQl1nasTcSyrs4ze1Ew_in2-dXdO7y1aHrDIc0lA371rZky5Zpu_vCgelzBveOMbIQ9tiEkoVAnpyfw5B9LI/s640/blogger-image--1760114521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3n1AXedva7BwPwxjtCV7o_22aVCleSmEog7jFd9hKosRKn_KrCxH01-Y2VQl1nasTcSyrs4ze1Ew_in2-dXdO7y1aHrDIc0lA371rZky5Zpu_vCgelzBveOMbIQ9tiEkoVAnpyfw5B9LI/s640/blogger-image--1760114521.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-71557459035704256222013-02-01T03:25:00.001-08:002013-02-01T03:25:41.531-08:00Day four musingsI have found the trick to carry a bar of chocolate around. If I know it's there I don't NEED it. Classic child psychology. As soon as its taken away and "banned" I want it all the time. Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-86350506835907756372013-01-30T13:30:00.001-08:002013-01-30T13:30:41.087-08:0021 days21 days of no chocolate. I am working with a nutritionist to try and figure out what is causing my migraines and as suspected she thinks chocolate may be a trigger. So we (i say we....) are cutting out the heavenly sugar hit for three weeks. <br />
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Piece of cake! (I mean chocolate...). <br />
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I have recently started trimming my own fringe. I purchased the necessary scissors from Boots, and started trimming away. My hair grows so fast, I just can't be bothered to trek to Knightsbridge every three weeks for a little fringe trim to see the lovely Steve (as much as i lo-o-oveeee him)</div>
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First time was petrifying, you hear such horror stories of "just a little bit here, little bit there" then all of a sudden you have a Bettie Page fringe, and this is not a look I'm trying to achieve.</div>
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Anyway it was fine, dead easy, and I'm quite enjoying being my own hairdresser. Snip snip snip.</div>
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-30791008892049810182013-01-03T14:19:00.001-08:002013-01-03T14:19:26.049-08:00OCDOCD is something I battle with. Didn't even realise it until some point last year when all became clear in a CBT session. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good. Here is an example of a bad day. Although some may say just good alignment. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRP0BTo8RO2fnvT_XhLhhY3P71P0wGABevUoTl2qIyjNI99mG_CFl6ssY53vTMabKCqSpGWoZplbHxMzizWRR8P3Mmen5SsQog-vB_087f2TN2O854u4ot4gKtpLYjqxK-LqBdd3_Ch5NO/s640/blogger-image--669568439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRP0BTo8RO2fnvT_XhLhhY3P71P0wGABevUoTl2qIyjNI99mG_CFl6ssY53vTMabKCqSpGWoZplbHxMzizWRR8P3Mmen5SsQog-vB_087f2TN2O854u4ot4gKtpLYjqxK-LqBdd3_Ch5NO/s640/blogger-image--669568439.jpg" /></a></div>Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-23304229884006219772013-01-01T09:29:00.001-08:002013-01-01T09:29:57.051-08:00Reflections part 2... Boy George<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In May, the very same Deborah that got married last year, announced she was pregnant. I was absolutely gobsmacked for a second. In my mind we are still 18, we are too young to be pregnant!</div>
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But then I had an exciting realisation. We are in fact mid twenties, she is married, as I will be soon, and this is completely normal. I wonder if you ever feel your age, if we ever feel like we are not winging it. When I was 15 I imagined owning my own property and wearing a suit by the time I was 21 swinging a breifcase around, driving a sensible car. 21 came and went, and I certainly wasn't wearing a suit, I was driving my Mum's car when I visited Newcastle and no briefcase to be seen. It feels amazing to know someone through all these incredible mile stones and stages of our lives. Marriage, babies, houses, jobs... Growing up together.</div>
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As my first close friend to be expecting, I sent Deborah copious amounts of crap throughout her pregnancy, and bought "bits and bobs" as it progressed. She soon learned she was expecting a boy, baby George. George May. The months flew by, I couldn't quite believe my tiny teeny friend was going to have a baby! The bump grew, along with the excitement, and eventually on the 10th Dec Deborah went into labour two days early. 11th Dec, he was born. I barely slept that night, checking my phone constantly. I wish I could have been in Newcastle, but I somehow felt so close. I think in certain friendships distance means nothing (as long as you've got iChat!!!)</div>
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The next two weeks were longggg, but eventually on boxing day, I got to meet him. The little prince himself, as well as Deborah and Kris' beautiful new home. We talked about all our hilarious times, boring Paul and Kris in the process, and the future, all the many more milestones to come, and I am so excited for them all, and to know that Deborah and Laura will be around for them all.</div>
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-16655285341825336022013-01-01T09:09:00.001-08:002013-01-01T09:09:44.550-08:00CHILDS PLAY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Overheard in Primrose Hill</b></div>
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MOTHER TO CHILD: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"</div>
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CHILD TO MOTHER: "I want to be a child."</div>
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Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546888912489724052.post-32223729971311956242012-12-31T10:29:00.000-08:002012-12-31T10:29:03.202-08:00Reflections part 1... YELLOW KAMPFThis year has been BIG. Lots of first and lasts, new and old and lots and lots of discoveries.<br />
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I started the year getting promoted at AP, promoted into the depths of HELL that is also known as Selfridges. EVERYONE warned be of it, and EVERYONE told me I would hate it. EVERYONE was right.<br />
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Day One consisted of a manager that had absolutely no idea how to work a till (or to work people for that matter, her longest standing staff member was about 3 months) and a floor manager threatening to sack me because I corrected her on garment knowledge. Never mind the fact that in the training I laughed when they said it was a gross misconduct to carry water on the shop floor, and they told me I was welcome to look for another shop if I found this very serious matter entertaining. Having SCRAPED through training, I managed to earn a SLN badge (kill me now) and SLN ID card (If I wasn't going to be charged about £100 for not returning it, I would have burned it.)<br />
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The very fact that it is "illegal" to carry lipstick on the shop floor was enough to remind me of school, creeping through the corridors in case you get caught for not having a toilet pass. And boy, if you forgot your Selfridges badge, you might as well just cane yourself and save the floor manager the bother...<br />
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So, entrance to Fort Knox. Walk through the staff entrance, scan card, hike down three flights of stairs to the most depressing locker room in history, find a locker (they don't provide you with your own, you have to FIND a spare one AND bring your own lock?!) This in itself was a massive stress. Then you have to get past the FRIENDLY (sarcasm) security guards. NO PURSES, NO CASH, NO WATER, NO FOOD, NO MAKE UP, nothing but your Selfridges ID card and yellow badge (wait does this sound a bit like Nazi Germany? With the yellow stars pinned to your sleeve...) However my manager (yes my very responsible manager) did inform me that if I flash a bit of cleavage (what cleavage?!) They might let you get away with taking a lipstick upstairs (LUCKY ME!) Then once you've passed customs, with literally nothing to declare, you can hike up four escalators to lingerie. Every step closer and my stomach was ILL with anxiety. I missed Diane, and Gaby from the City store, where we worked HARD, smashed targets and had FUN, not to mention the fact that I now had to work weekends. (every weekend, I had the privilege of one weekend day off a month) AND lates, and the lates WERE LATE. Yes, I know I would have known this BEFORE I took the job, AND EVERYONE had to work lates (everyone apart from the manager that is, who put herself on nothing but earlies, you know as the earlies are the busiest period, when the staff REALLY need a manager around for support coz it's SO RAMMED... Good one...)<br />
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Anyway, we all get it, I hated Selfridges. Bla bla bla. Moan moan moan, I started spontaneously collapsing at work, to the annoyance of manager, who told me to go home coz I was of no use to her, I asked her why she hadn't even asked me if I was ok (obviously wasn't ok, as was collapsing) and she simple said that it wasnt her job to ask if I was ok. So I quit. Hurray. Vowed never to set foot in Selfridges again, until I REALLY needed miu miu shoes from there and they were the only store that had them. Needs must and all that.<br />
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Onwards and upwards to PART TWO... the lovely land of triyoga... more of that later on this evening.<br />
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Curry is just about to be delivered, for our NYE night in! This is the first year we have "stayed in." Are we getting old? Paul hasnt been home for 6 weekends out of 8, and this is some well deserved quality time together. I am looking outside and it is raining, and I am looking inside at our lovely home with our lovely cats, and the MASSIVE pile of DVDs we just bought, and I could not be happier.<br />
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Happy New Year all, here's to a fantastic, 2013.<br />
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Samantha xx<br />
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<br />Samantha Valentinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08022872626722954402noreply@blogger.com