43. Me and my Furry Friends

26th January 2014, Spitalfields City Farm, Shoreditch, London

Sad as it might be, I still enjoy the same things now that I did age 5. This includes the Smurfs, funny straws and petting zoos. Seeing as I live next to a Spitalfields City Farm and had not yet visited it - this hungover Sunday was the perfect time to go.

I get that it's winter and that the city farms may not be the most happening of places, but I would have hoped for something more than a bunny and a coriander garden. If you're going to dedicate a garden to just the one herb - why choose coriander, the most disgusting of all in theory edible leafs?

Maybe having lived close to Hackney City Farm in the past have raised the bar for all city farms so that I have unrealistic expectations....? After all, Hackney City farm has a pig named after me who listens to my troubles when I care to share, they get goat babies every spring and they have great duck eggs that makes a mean omelette. 

Walking through the ghost town that is Spitalfields City Farm did most certainly not cheer up my Sunday. Until I hear the familiar sounds of an 'eeyore' and the excitement is back on! I just love donkeys.

And what a cute donkey it was. There wasn't a name sign or anything, so I decided his name was Luigi. I didn't name the other donkey that later appeared or the tiny pony as they wouldn't come hang out with me. Luigi however did. And he was super fluffy and sniffed me. I love that in both men and donkeys.

Close up of my new boyfriend, Luigi.

Luigi's pals - they're currently unsupportive of our relationship. I'll win them over. One day. You just wait.

 

42. Dear Mrs Branning

25th January 2014, Coal Vaults, Soho, London

I'll happily admit to my love for East Enders.
I'm not embarrassed about my long standing crush on Max Branning (yes, really) or the fact that I think Dorothy Branning is an icon in oh so many ways (I mean just look at those blouses!). Which is why I obviously had to try her signature drink at some stage and the sooner, the better.

The Dot Cotton cocktail, based on her name prior to meeting Jim Branning - I know too much about these characters - consists of lavender infused gin with blackberries and egg white. It is an excellent representative for Mrs Branning, she'd definitely loudly disapprove both once and twice!

The Dot Cotton is an invention brought to the world by the Coal Vaults in Soho. Not normally a West End girl I made reservations on a whim ahead of a night out with my favourite fellow blondes and we were all pleasantly surprised. Upon arrival I did however worry that I had brought the girls along to a black market brothel - the venue is an extremely dark basement and sits behind some even darker curtains.

This place had really amazing and inventive cocktails and the food was absolutely top class - and we had some picky girls there. Not normally a big fan of tapas, even I would say that these dishes really had a great twist to them and the rabbit was without a doubt the best rabbit I have ever had.

The best bit about the evening though was of course getting to catch up with two of my favourite ladies as we haven't had a chance to meet and gossip since well before Christmas. And with all the exciting things going on in their lives with new jobs, house shopping, babies not really being babies anymore and holiday plans coming up, this dinner was well overdue.

Not so surprisingly, the night didn't end at dinner as there was so much to talk about and my sequined  Prada trousers needed a proper night out - we therefore moved on to Champagne at Kettner's and drinks at Boheme. So much for me not being too crazy about Soho.

Maybe besides channelling my inner Dot Cotton I am also developing a West End girl alter ego...?

Dot Cotton on tap.

Me and Dot living it up in Soho.

Blonde Ambition take 1

Blonde Ambition take 2



Blonde Ambition take 3

Yummy Chanterelles - goes great with rabbit! 

Croquets!

Seriously tasty broccoli!

When saying that I usually drink mojitos and proceed to give the bartender free hands - I'd expect something other than straight tequila back! But that said, it would have been rude not to...

 

 

 

 

41. Hoi Polloi

25th January 2014, Hoi Polloi at Ace Hotel, Shoreditch, London

I love brunch, I love a funny name and I love a venue with a cool atmosphere and interesting people (read: pretentious East London haunts). Having been to the sister restaurant, Bistrotheque quite a few times, Hoi Polloi was added to my list of things to do and spots to try out as soon as it opened.

Waking up after a Friday night in planning our trip to the Caribbean, me and the lovely Hell's Bells were starving and my Bloody Mary addiction had not been seen to for several weeks. Disaster!

The best thing with going to brunch with Hell's Bells is the extra pancake plate. Always. Which means that I can enjoy my eggs and still get pancakes. I love pancakes. However, the Bloody Mary in this place - not so much. Very bland.

The highlight of our Hoi Polloi visit was however finally booking our trip to the Dominican Republic, 8 days of the beach and luxury brunch on tap and it's only six weeks to go!

By the way - Hoi Polloi is Latin for the common people. Pretentious East London Haunt was it?

One very bland Bloody Mary....

 

The mandatory pancake side plate!

One very yummy duck egg with mushrooms.

Mmmmmm, brunch...!

40. Obamas vs. Kardashians

23rd January 2014, Shoreditch, London

I am not a total idiot. I know the names of several of the UK ministers, I know we're in a double dip recession and sort of what that means, and I have a fair idea of where there are currently wars going on in the world. But that said, my general knowledge leaves a lot to wish for and I would probably be able to name all the Kardashians quicker than I could name the Obamas.

Some people have advised that the best way to improve your general knowledge and be a bit more a jour with what is going on in the world is to read through the Economist on a weekly basis. I have made several attempts at making it through the entire thing and although I realise that it aims to be more serious than OK magazine - does it actually have to be that boring?

Having a few days in house arrest, I figured I might as well make some use out of it beyond the Real Housewives of Orange County.

It is 86 pages of dullness and all I learned was:

• The French president is a cheat - and I already knew that from Closer Magazine. It's all basically like Dynasty but with boring and ugly people. But didn't realise it qualified as news. 
• Technology will cut jobs. How is this news?
• Pandas are bad at sex. Now this I did not know. Personal theory - they are all so cute they're just putting each other in the friend zone. A lot of puppy faced men can probably relate.

To be clear - I will not be subscribing to the Economist any time soon.

I think I would have convinced people of my interest in the events of the world if I hadn't bought Now for back up....

39. Non Chipper

23rd January 2014, Guys and Dolls Parlour, Shoreditch, London

I am bit of a girlie girl in spite of my man jaws and I love getting my nails done. I do however have the not so great ability to always chip my nails hours after leaving the salon, and the hobo chic era is very long gone.

Obviously shellac has been around for a while, but I have so far been reluctant to try it out as I tend to change my mind on what's hot and not every 5 minutes. But after spending all of January with the same chipped nail polish end split ends due to pure laziness, I decided it was time. I guess I rather be polished without variety than a colourful junkie.

Popping into the lovely Guys and Dolls parlour I'm immediately given a lychee-champagne cocktail and US Vogue. Winner.

I have massive commitment issues when it comes to my nails - same as with boyfriends, none that I've tried have been worth sticking with so far. But this place may have won me over. Really amazing colour selections and a great venue - there's a bar in the parlour. Say no more. 

After losing my shellac virginity - I'm hooked. The colour is so much brighter and not a chip in sight other than those that came with my fish.

Now the only bad thing may be the fact that now I have no excuse to get my nails done for another three weeks. The horror!

Bliss.

38. Running On Ice

21st January 2014, Canary Wharf Ice Rink, Canary Wharf, London

I have not been on a pair of ice skates for 20 years. Not exaggerating. The reason for this is my baby brother who looked all sweet and innocent but I swear was pure evil as a child (it's alright, he's been exorcised now).
As soon as our parents' had their back turned, he would effectively try to kill me; There was the throwing a plastic chair on my head causing a blood bath. There was also the pushing me out of a bunk bed head first - there's a month worth of photos of me aged 5 with a black eye every colour of the rainbow. And then there was the ice skating incident... Without going into to much details on the trauma that was to follow - I got off the ice and have refused to get back on there ever since.

I had now decided it was time to deal with my demons.

As stomping around like Bambi in the midst of the Canary Wharf bankers on my own was not something I was all that keen on, I brought one of my trusted girls from the office with me for a lunch skating session. I think she regretted agreeing to that the minute I got my ice skates on.

That sort of flick-ey, swooshing movement you need to make to move forward... I do not have it. I instead try to run on the ice. Which generally results in falling on ones' ass. A lot. We lost count at five.

After contemplating getting me a polar bear training gadget to hold on to, my ice skating buddy instead took it on herself to teach me. After 10 minutes about me stomping about the ice, the calm,clear and collected instructions are swapped for 'NO! NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! IT'S NOT WHAT I TOLD YOU!'. You haven't been yelled at until you've been yelled at in Irish.

About 30 minutes in, all spent in the kiddie corner - I actually started to get the hang of it.

And stubborn as I am, I have every intention of learning now, so I will be back to fall on my ass until I am a master skater.

37. The Other List

21st January 2014, Shoreditch, London

Some people say never say never, I say some people are stupid.

Of course there are thing you'd never do! Saying anything else means that you're either way too impressionable or that you like using washed out quotes in lack of better things to say.

When I started talking about this blog, some people were (not always so) sweet enough to help me with suggestions. And it's not that I don't appreciate it, hell, I have 90 odd slots left on the list - but I don't have a death wish and I do have some pride.

So, number 37 on The List, is another list. These are the things I will most certainly never do:

1. KFC: I can proudly say that I have never and will never set foot in a KFC. I just don't get the deal or what it is that I'm missing out on. It's chicken deep fried beyond recognition all served up with... Baked Beans. Are you kidding me?
2. Parashooting: I have a fairly decent record when it comes to landing myself in accidents, whether it's falling down escalators, riding bikes straight into brick walls or getting myself run over by trucks - I'm damn good at landing myself with pretty severe injuries. So throwing myself out of a plane with nothing but a piece of fabric to save me - not going to happen.
3. Vajazzling: Fun to joke about, in the exact same way as most things introduced by the TOWIE cast - it's not in any way that I am laughing with them.
4. Twilight: The movie, the book, all of it. I'm sorry, but every bone in my semi feminist body rejects the very idea of the plot. The girl is clearly desperately dependant on the boy who is obviously much, much more amazing than her and worth giving up your entire life for. Of course he is! And obviously if you sleep with the guy before you're married he will lose all control and rip you apart. Of course he will! And obviously you have to carry your child in spite of it basically being a demon and you running the risk of dying in the process. Of course you do! Have we really not come further?
5. India: As a very wise man once said, India is an acronym for I Am Never Doing It Again. OK, so I know that you should not judge an entire place based on one bad (horrendous) experience, but if the experience is as bad as my four days in Delhi, it's an acceptable thing to do. Still deeply traumatised three years on, I can guarantee you that I will not ever set foot there again.
6. Have babies: Strictly speaking I'm not sure I've agreed to this. But I have been informed that it is not happening. By my nieces. Apparently they have enough cousins. But if I wish to have a puppy that's OK.

Other than these - I am always up for a challenge and have 90 slots to go!

36. The Chicken and the Camel

18th January 2014, Tramshed, Shoreditch, London

Long overdue catch up with my favourite Camel after the holidays!

The Camel may seem like a weird nickname for a 3-apples-high, Swedish/Moroccan dentist and it did come about after a crazy number of cocktails in Soho one lazy afternoon, where she sums up the day with; 'and here we are, a Viking from Sweden and a camel from the Sahara. Diversity you know'.

I had been keen on trying out Tramshed for ages - I'm crazy about Damien Hirst (and glitzy skulls), crazy about the other Hix restaurants and I'm crazy about chicken. And oh my gosh that was some chicken. Other people may have had some bad reactions to it coming out with the feet still attached, whilst it only awoke the caveman in me. That's caveman - not cavewoman, I have no sense of political correctness when it comes to dead animals.

And after three hours worth of chicken, wedding planning (or discussing the lack of), wine, updates on my severe hypochondria, more wine, Oprah quotes and solving the world's problems it's definitely a place I'll go back to soon.

Although when I left I'm fairly sure the cow hanging from the ceiling gave my suede boots a pretty serious death stare when I was leaving.

Now at least there's no doubt about what animal this is....

The camel and the chicken (the camel is the slightly taller one)

Now this is chicken ecstasy in its' purest form

That is one seriously scary looking cow.

Love, love, love this place.

35. Afternoon Tea at Bluebird

12th January 2014, Bluebird, Chelsea, London

After six years in the UK I'm pretty good at being English if I may say so myself.. I spend more time at the pub than at home, I accept that it blows straight through the windows, I deal with all travel activity seizing due to leaves on the tracks and every other word I say is 'please'. But most of all, I love, love, love afternoon tea. It makes me feel like a semi posh person and it incorporates some of my absolute favourite things - cake, sandwiches and scones. And jam. I love jam.

I was treating one of my best girls, Mrs Higginson, to a pampering day for her 30th birthday and I'm also on a mission to try and squeeze in as much time as possible with her before she abandons me for Australia in a few months.

After a manicure and before a long massage, we popped into Bluebird for Afternoon Tea. Bluebird is one of my favourite spots in London - it's such a great place for people watching and cocktails. This was my first afternoon tea there though and I was excited.

As per usual, we were met by the super sweet staff and that lovely Chelsea afternoon mix of everything from big family birthday do's to romantic yet awkward first dates to me and Mrs Higginson. Yes, I do take people watching to another level (which includes intense eaves dropping) and the first daters next to us really were incredibly awkward. The guy was very cute though so I'm not so secretly hoping it continued to go terribly and that he hangs out at Bluebird a lot.

The cakes, the scones and the sandwiches were all amazing just as expected. Plus great jam. And I think 2 hours of gossiping and girls talk was just what we needed after the holidays.

And seeing as there are not that many opportunities left for me and this great girl to have these sessions on a regular basis, I just want to say the following to the Higginsons.... Please don't go to Australia! Sydney's not all that great you know! Beaches are overrated! There's no afternoon tea there!

Excited at the prospect of loads of cake!

One of our more sophisticated outings.

34. Bread or Broccoli?

13th January 2014, Canary Wharf, London

By coincidence I spotted that one of my prior colleagues had done an unexpected career change from banking to sandwich making. Well, it's a bit more than just good old fashioned sandwich making;  these are carb free sandwiches.  I was sceptical. But after 2 weeks of steamed salmon and equally steamed vegetables, I was starving and open to just about anything. Plus, if there are carb free bread in the world, it needs to be tested.

So the bread is made out of broccoli. Seriously. Not sure how they do it, but it is never the less, broccoli bread.

After tricking the girls at work into the carb free cult, we all sat there at lunch with our different suspicious looking sandwiches.

I'm not going to lie. It's hardly the best sandwich I've ever had (but not the worst one either). But, they have no carbs and less calories than anything else I can get for lunch. And again, what genius figured out how to make bread out of broccoli??

At least it's better than a protein shake.

33. Canoodling it

13th January 2014, Shoreditch, London

Carb free noodles - sounds too good to be true doesn't it?

I'm sorry, but even though sugar is the devil - salad and chicken is not all that exciting. So rather than doing stir fry with my stir fry for the third night in a row, I decided to give the carb free noodles a shot.

In spite of the very suspicious packaging and the very starchy smell, they were actually not that different from real noodles. Considering that they're only 22 calories per bag and carb free - I'm not sure I really want to know what's in them, but you know what they say - denial is a stubby girls best friend.

What is konjac glucomannan anyway?

They look quite suspicious, agreed.

 

Well if it looks, talks and walks like a noodle....

Then I guess I can pretend it's a noodle.

32. Piece of Meat

9th January 2014, Shoreditch, London

After lobster and Ben and Jerry's Baked Alaska, a good steak is my favourite food (yes, Ben and Jerry's is food).

Steak is however one of the few things that I am incredibly bad at cooking - always, without exception it ends up over cooked and dry and I gave up ages ago and instead became a regular at Hawksmoor.

I had now decided it was time to learn - not only because I wanted to know how, but it had dawned on me exactly how much money I spend at steak restaurants and how many pairs of Manolos that added up to.

Now, is there anything you can not learn via YouTube? It's how I figured out liquid eye liner, how to unclog the bathroom sink and how to make souffle. Life saving!

After frying 4 perfectly nice bits of dead cows to charcoal -  I was finally successful! And it was yummy.

So thank you Gordon Ramsay for the excellent demonstration, you should expect a law suit from several restaurants for loss of income any day now.

 

Excellent steak, perfect dinner in.

 

Now that's how you cook a steak.

31. How we did it in the olden days

2nd January 2014, Toro's Place, Cozumel, Mexico

Now this is necessarily not something I have on the list because I wanted it there, but I knew it happening to me was inevitable. Kind of like menopause.

Conversation at the table somehow landed at early 90's entertainment. The eldest niece, E, looks incredibly confused and the following conversation soon kicks off:

E: Auntie, what on earth is a VHS?
Me: It's what we had before DVD's.
E: How do you mean?
Me: Well, it was like a box with film in it with the pictures.
E: How do you mean, film? Like the movie was in it?
Me: Well, no film - like in a camera.
E: You mean like the memory card?
Me: No, before that there was like a roll with the photos...
E: Huh?
Me: Uhm... A VHS was like a big cassette tape? 
E: A what now?
Me: A cassette tape? With music on it?
E: Oh, you mean a CD.
Me: No, no, no - before that.
E: Huh?
Me: It was like a box....
E: Wasn't that the movie thing?
Me: Yeah but this had music in it?
E: So the box had both music and movies in it?
Me: Uhm... Yeah.

A few moments later, after I believe I have been successful in my explaining a VHS....

E: Auntie, are you talking about an iPad?

I no longer proud myself in being the young, cool aunt.

Maybe they at least think I'm a little cool still?

30. Crayfish Free Holiday

4th January 2014, Miami Airport, Florida, USA

I love a good tan as unmodern as that might make me. Unfortunately, having a very typical Scandinavian complexion, my plans to come home from holiday with a golden glow generally result in me looking like a boiled crayfish. With blonde hair. That does not make it any cuter.

So, in spite of supposedly knowing much better by now, I still spend every holiday I have trying to accomplish a tan and to date this has resulted in the following:

• Mallorca 1999: Trying to tan wearing giant reflective sun glasses (they were uber cool - all of the Spice Girls had a pair) and no sun lotion. 

Result! Face basically falling off and my mother spending the whole night in dabbing my  face with ice water and some green goo that they give you against everything in Spain, whilst trying to console my 14 year old self who had decided that life was officially over. Upon my return, pretty much everyone I met asked where I'd been skiing in the middle of summer.

• Lanzarote 2003: First holiday away from the parents and first ever holiday with the bestie. Parents come with their kids on their holidays for a reason. I believe that reason is to interfere with a 'No, SPF 6 is most definitely not sufficient'. This is also the trip where I discovered tequila - another reason my parents should have kept me home.

Result! There are pictures of me from said holiday where you can't quite see where my red dress begins and I end.

• Bulgaria 2004: Post graduation trip with the girls, was not only painful due to the poo smelling hotel, the neighbours crawling up on your balcony for a booty call at 3 am or the fact that we at average had to endure Dragostai Din Tei every 15 minutes from 6 AM until.... 6 AM. No, this is where Iearned the lesson that bikini line sun burn is the king of bad sun burn.

Result! Successfully actually got properly ill from overdoing the sun. We're talking fever, the shakes, chocolate flavored morphin (yes, really) and calling home to mum and dad crying for them to come get me. 

• Miami 2008: We were in Miami (bitch) and we were going to party it up between beach sessions. That came to an end on day 2 when the swelling prevented us from walking properly and we therefore remained in air conditioned house arrest, frantically trying to take the redness down by rubbing ourselves with cool soda cans from the mini bar and aloe vera:ing it up every 5 minutes in the vain hope that the blistard would soon go away. It took 2 seasons of America's Next Top Model for that to happen. Thank you for your support Tyra.

Result! Bestie was worse than I for once and her back actually started to resemble a non-Prada leather boot. It wasn't pretty. Really was not. It must however be noted, that by day 4 we were fully recovered and partying it up in Miami (bitch) and not sure my body have quite recovered since.

• Himalayas 2010: Never book holidays in the middle of a break up. You won't find yourself, trust me. In all fairness, I thought that during the rainy season trekking through the jungle up in the Himalayas, the least of my concern would be sunburn. Wild animals trying to kill me, falling of a mountain, getting lost were all more likely causes of agony. And whilst all of these happened, I again came to discover that that sun is one sneaky son of a... Did literally not see it once! But it clearly saw me.

 Result! Sunburn on bed bug bites is not pleasant. Just saying. After burning my scalp - the curse of being a blonde - I was forced by the bestie to wear the least stylish hat there ever was for the rest of the trek, and it may be that lack of showers should have been higher priority at the time. But I really hated that hat.

Now these are only a few select examples, there are plenty more to choose from - believe me.

When heading off to Mexico, I was determined that this was not going to be a holiday spent in agony due to the sun burn ripping my flesh off. A little red was acceptable, looking like Elmo's less hairy sister - not OK.

So, with some help from my three back up moms a.k.a sister, bestie and 9 year old niece ('Have you put your sun screen on? Don't lie.') I returned from holidays with an actual tan. And no one, no one, asked me if I had just been for a run when seeing my post holiday face. Winner.


Pale and interesting? Pffffff, it's for amateurs.

BROWN!

29. Drunken Maggots

4th January 2014, Cozumel, Mexico

Generally speaking I'm not big on mainstream touristy outings or souvenirs - I loathe sightseeing and I can proudly say that I do not own a single Eiffel Tower key ring, I-love-New-York t-shirt or a bottle with coloured sand from some beach you thought you'd remember the name of in 5 years. 

I have very few pretentious bones in my body (I watch Keeping up with the Kardashians for crying out loud) -  but when it comes to behaving like a classic tourist, I simply refuse.

However, as my love for tequila was born back in circa 2001 and has been alive and kicking ever since,  I could hardly go to the mekkah of tequila without bringing a bottle back with me. It would have been rude not to. 
And obviously, to show how amazingly hard core I am, it had to be one with a maggot in it, 'just like on TV'. The minute after I said that, I did wish for a second that the ground will swallow me whole after being revealed for what I was. A tourist. Oh the horror. The fact that I was a pale assed blonde Swedish girl in a store that sells glow in the dark sombreros wasn't enough of course.

Just so we're clear - I will not be eating the maggot.

Looking closely, you can see the little guy swimming around at the bottom of the bottle. Or maybe more like chilling.... Chillaxing?

Do they put them in when they're already dead?

28. Hey to the Hooters

3rd January 2014, Hooters, Cozumel, Mexico

It may be a bit odd for someone who frequently flags the feminist flag to get super excited about a visit to Hooters. But it's yet another one of those wonderfully tasteless concepts that needed to be checked out. Besides, at the end of the day it's tight tops and boobs - and feminism really should have bigger concerns than that (but if I get started on that this will go on for miles and miles).

And in the day and age of Miley Cyrus videos, Hooters is hardly that provocative.

The thing with Hooters is, it's basically like the suburb basement after school club of teenage boys in the 60's - only with alcohol and actual real living girls.

Apart from the teeny tiny uniform and the most bland mojito I have ever had, it's about as awful as any other big American concept chains.... Yes, I am too much of a snob for Hard Rock Cafes, Planet Hollywoods and TGI Fridays.

However, I still have no problems with neither tight tops or boobs.

Yes, owls are what you think of when someone says 'Hooters'.

Yep - I brought the nieces to Hooters. They even got crayons!

Very classy interiors as expected.

The history of the club house turned bar.

27. Modern Technology

3rd January 2014, Cozumel, Mexico

I still buy DVD's. I have only just learned the beauty of downloading music electronically instead of buying CD's. I have no idea what Spotify does. Nor have I completely figured out how to work Skype.
My computer until recently only showed half pages for a year because I had zoomed in by mistake and could not figure out how to zoom it back out again - I resolved this by buying a computer with a bigger screen. And on that one I can't get into the internet without going via Ebay.

In other words, applying myself to 2014 gizmos is not something that comes naturally to me. So my decision to go and get an iPad was a big one.

I did make the attempt to go to the actual Apple store (via the shoe section at Liberty). It took me approximately five minutes to get the first sales person to give up on me and the second outlasted him by one minute. Why is it so hard for technical people to speak plain English? I left the store with no iPad, but I did get some awesome bunny shaped headphones. Score.

Thankfully, the people around me do grasp the concept of modern technology. And they bore easily. So thanks to one of my lovely girls at work, I am now writing this on something as modern, sophisticated and grown up as an iPad. With pink bunny ears.

26. Flipper!

2nd January 2014, Dolphin Discovery, Cozumel, Mexico

Another activity of the Mexico trip that made the 28 year old auntie more excited than the 7 and 9 year old nieces was the one where we'd be swimming with dolphins.

First and foremost, they are huge. I always thought they looked very cute and cuddly and large-fish sized, but they're cute and cuddly and massive. But absolutely beautiful and really smart - unlike me they can both jump and dance on command.

Unexpectedly, the highlight of the dolphinarium trip was not riding on the dolphins, dancing with the dolphins, being pushed by the dolphin on a wakeboard or even getting a dolphin kiss.
When all of that was over, they took us to the see the sea cows. I just love sea cows. Never have an ugly creature been that cute since ET. I want one.

Biggest concern of the moment - what qualifications are required for being a dolphin trainer and what will 8 years of banking add anything to the profession?

25. Bubbles on the Beach

31st December 2013, Cozumel, Mexico

It's not my first attempt to do New Years Eve sitting on a beach sipping cocktails. Only that last year it ended up with sister and nieces going to bed at 10.30 with a bad case of migraine and being under the age of 10, respectively, me spending the countdown with my wonderful but teetotal brother in law and a magnum bottle of Moet, after almost being hit by a rocket. So I've decided that one doesn't count.

After spending the day chasing after champagne and canapes but settling for Cheetos and cava, which by the way we chilled in our bathroom zinc, I should probably have realised this was not the build up to a very glamorous night.

I did at the very least get lobster. It was yummy and dead.

My sister with kids and boyfriend didn't cave at 10.30 this time. They caved at 9.15. That's PM by the way.
So me and bestie went out to find what the nightlife of Cozumel had to offer. After dodging places under the names of Senor Frogs and Margaritaville we decided to move onto something a bit more classy - the bar bearing the very inventive name of Thirsty Cougars.

Well it turned out we were nowhere near thirsty or lusty enough to fit into that bar. One frozen margarita in, we decided there was no shame in ending your night out on the town at 10.45 on New Years Eve. 

Determined to stay awake until midnight and celebrate 2014 on the beach, we headed back to the hotel. Where sadly, we took a nap. Yep, 11 PM on New Years Eve, two women supposedly on the good side of 30 decided they needed a nap to make it until midnight.

11.45, we got up, dragged our asses to the beach along with the remaining bottle of not champagne and waited. And waited. Seriously, 15 minutes have never taken so long.

At the strike of midnight there were... No fire works. Literally non. Just me, bestie and a bottle of bubbles on a very empty beach in Mexico. Not so sure this one counts either. Plus I squirted cava in my own eye.

At exactly 00.05 I decided that as my New Years resolution was getting a decent amount of sleep on a regular basis in 2014, it was time for bed.

The question that remains is, at what age do you pass as a cougar?

Now this is class.

My HUGE lobster.

The excitement did wear off eventually...

Like ice cream this is!

24. Turtle Orphan Seeks Home

27th December 2013, Tortugranja, Isla Mujeres, Mexico

I'll willingly admit that my long lasting love for turtles started and ended with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and that was primarily because they ate a lot of pizza and colour coordinated themselves extremely well.

But generally speaking - any sort of animal shelter will sort of make me want to adopt every single little creature in there and give them all individual names, collars and food bowls. Giant baby turtles were no exception. Although I'm yet to figure out how to put collars on turtles, I'm sure I will find a way.

On a particularly cloudy day on Isla Mujeres, we decided it was the best day to spend in the turtle sanctuary that all the kids, aged 7, 9 and 28 had been going on about.
We packed all 4 adults (well, physically at least....) and 2 kids into the rented golf car that I was not allowed to drive and went off towards the other side of the island.
About me not being allowed to drive - why do everyone have this crazy impression of me not being an excellent driver? I have only crashed one car, once, and it really wasn't my fault. They really shouldn't put a mirror by the driver's seat if you're not even allowed to put your make up on.

Anyway, I guess that's not the point (although I still maintain my lack of driving skills is a misconception).
The point is, turtles are awesome. They carry their house around, they take things in their own, slow pace without letting anyone rush them and their little heads are really very cute sticking out looking all confused and newly awake. Yes, that's what their faces looks like.

So now the question is, where do I house the 30+ turtle babies I have decided to adopt?

I even held one! Look how little!

 

Albino Turtles

Would-make-a-great-pattern-for-Prada Turtles

Randy Turtles?

Lots Of Turtles

Twin Turtles

23. Margarita Madness

4th January 2014, Cozumel, Mexico

You can't go to Mexico and not have margaritas. I'm fairly convinced it's in a law somewhere. Plus they're yummy.

I did my best to get through a variety of margaritas at every special occasion in Mexico. Special occasions such as Holiday Friday, Holiday Saturday, Holiday Sunday, Day-Before-New-Years-Eve, New Years Eve and so on....

For someone who have been unable to do tequila since the age of 18, I am surprisingly good at downing the margaritas. The hot weather did help things along as well.

There really is a margarita for every occasion - I'll remember that for my next birthday. Or for Easter. Christmas. Mondays....

Now, Margarita Mondays - that's one hell of a plan!

The first margaritas of my Mexican holiday.

Without a doubt the biggest margaritas of my Mexican holiday.