Tag Archives: life

Macmillan coffee morning.

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Yesterday was the UKs biggest coffee morning. Lots of venues held their coffee morning in support of Macmillan. Following the bean led me to this charity event. I held my first one and raised over £100.00. Lots of cakes were donated and I even judged a bake off!

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My friend Jane also had the ordeal of being a bake off judge. It must have been a tough job having to try the cakes!

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Cup cakes, willies and Joey Potter…

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A hen night for a friend in Preston. A civilised evening with food , friends and alcohol. These are friends from back in the day as a result reminiscing was inevitable…

THE HEN

Bride meets groom-
Me and the hen chatted about when we were in our twenties and I had my first house. “The lilac room.. I loved that room”. That was my spare room. Al’s weekend room. She’d arrive Saturday evening and we’d hit the town in Preston. This was THE place everyone went having our own circuit of pubs we’d go to. I don’t need to stress how messy many of those nights were. Shots, alco pops and black straws bent and sat over your ears as a microphone were all the rage. In the early days we would meet ‘Soon to be husband’ at the end of the night for a few drinks and walk (more like stagger) back. At that point he was the guy from cricket with the bleached hair- someone Al had known a while but they had never got together other than a cheeky snog.

Hang overs-
We’d arrive back at mine very drunk. Sunday was spent on the sofa hung over at mine watching Dawson’s creek. Katie Holmes will always be Joey Potter to me!!

Dating-
Both finally got together and dated but then it kind of fizzled.

Right under your nose-
The conversation over tea when the light bulb goes on and you realise what you’re looking for is right under your nose and as a friend you ask ‘why are you two not together?’

10 years later-
Here we are getting ready for the wedding! Who would have thought? 2 children,a house later and no bleached hair, they’re getting married.

The tracksuits-
Did I mention we had a love of navy Nike tracksuits? We lived in them, much to the disgust of others. We may not have them now but we have others. We both agreed our love of tracksuits will never die.

The bride’s sister –
Julie was in the same year at school as me but went to the school on the other side of the park. She reminds me of sneaking out of school at dinner time and going to the chippy as she was there with her friends. One thing we all had in common was our knee socks pushed down round our ankles and big hair. It was the 80’s and it was very trendy then! Meanwhile the boys would meet at someone’s house by my school, smoke and watch porn! Guys always thinking with what’s between their legs!

When we hit the bar someone had turned up with specially made cup cakes. Phallic members and handcuffs made from icing decorated the little cakes. And to be pc the Willies were different colours!

This prompted all sorts of tales. One being prompted from This Morning having shown the biggest Willie on live tv that week. Someone knew someone who’d worked on a cruise ship. On this ship was someone with a reputation for having a large member and one day a poor female needed to be wheel chaired off the ship after a night with him because she couldn’t walk!

Whether the tales were true or not the cupcakes went down well. It’s amazing how fast time passes us by. I still see those young girls, yet it’s a long time ago we all met. It’s amazing the things you remember like it was yesterday.

I wonder if Katie Holmes has as many fond memories of the Joey Potter days as we do?

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Coffee and The Kings Ov Leon..Festwich 2012

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Festwich Festival, Manchester

Sunday September 2nd

Joining me- Catherine and Jane

Tip- when drinking out of a plastic cup take the lid off as the heat creates toxins in the condensation which drip back into the cup  ( tip from Jane, backed up with- ‘not an ideal tip when driving down the M25’)

To confirm my point that cappuccino and lattes are common place coffees I saw a coffee stand at Festwich, Sunday. So coffee is now festival chic accompanying Hunter wellies. The last time I went to a festival it would have been a run of the mill filter coffee or tea on a greasy spoon type burger van. Not anymore. Coffee machine and danish pastries.

As bog standard coffees go this was ok and to the masses it was everything a cappuccino should be. It was even described on the chalk board as the ‘frothy’ one. Which as you all know from following me is not what should be there-foam. While waiting a girl walked by with a tasty looking cake. I had to have one with my cuppa.

I hunted out the cake stall. Cake stalls at festivals, who knew coffee and cake was trendy? Apparently at Glastonbury you can even order pots of tea.

Cupcake and cappuccino, sun shining and the dulcet tones of Whole Lotta Led, (a Led Zeppelin tribute band). It had looked like rain so I had layered up with a faux leather jacket. I was sweating! Coffee, sun and pvc don’t mix=sticky.

We made our way into the crowd to see the bands close up . A tribute band festival run every year in St Marys Park. It was hit and miss that we’d even get there when I realised that morning I’d lost the tickets. Not looking like a rowdy bunch they let us in. We eagerly awaited the more up to date generation of music,especially as the members looked pretty dishy. The scruffy student types but the kind who’d show you a good time.

I laughed at times til my cheeks hurt as the conversation deteriorated to the bottomless pits of singledom (too rude to mention) whilst ogling the singer. We decided that we would make great cover band groupies and pledged a promise to following them. One friend has already friend requested Kings Ov Leon on face book texting me at 8.30 this morning with excitement they’d accepted. We thought following cover bands would get us out more and would be much cheaper than the real thing. For me the Frankie Cocozza look a like made me realise this was the way forward. Being with someone with hair like his I wouldn’t worry about looking bad the next morning (my hair has a mind of its own).

A sign of the times however is when one of you wouldn’t be able to head bang due to a ‘bad back’. We won’t be good groupies if one of us puts our back out every time! She knows to wear the back brace next time.

You’ve been dumped…

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Sunday 26th August

Edge Street Party, Northern Quarter, Manchester.

Joining me-Catherine

I woke to a text from a friend asking if I fancied coffee, cake and a catch up. As if I was going to say no. I knew there was a street party happening in the Northern Quarter Manchester and considering they have great cafes this seemed a good place to meet. A quick stop for food at Simple (fry up) and then into Tib Street. Luckily at this point the rain had stopped and people had began to surface. Gazebos, tables, benches, buskers, buntin, bars, food stalls and dj’s were all out in force. The NQ was not going to be beaten by the rain!

The clouds clearedhref=”https://coffeecakeandme.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/img_0866.jpg”> the roads dried and the sound of funk, soul and dance classics coming from various dj stands dominated the streets. Taking advantage of the sun we sat amongst the crowd and opted for cold fruit cider. It’s through my new venture in the cafe world that I have found out about things going on in cities. You would never think that the places we pop in for a coffee are part of a sub culture of events, art, music and gatherings. I have decided I am part of the foodie/coffee group and it tastes good! With only one week of my holidays left so far following the bean has taken me to cities, street parties, spending time with friends, finding new places and a few dates. It has also turned me into a coffee snob!

Being with someone who doesn’t drink hot drinks places such as Home Sweet Home are perfect. Having a bar in a cafe/coffee shop is a perfect idea. While Catherine opted for a wine I managed to get my coffee fix. Due to the set up of the day cakes were limited. Having spotted someone on another table with what looked like small cakes on a chopping board I thought I’d have what they’re having.

A great coffee arrived and a wooden board, on it a glass of milk and 5 freshly made to order choc chip cookies. Random sized they looked and smelled delicious. They did not disappoint. Warm with crunchy edges and soft moist centres they went down a treat! Milkshakes were popular and looked thick and tasty.

Both being single our meets always involve a catch up on the dating front and familiar situations always crop up. The mobile phone generation has made texting the most common way of communicating. It also makes things very easy. Like rejecting someone. It avoids confrontation or even having to verbally say it to someone or having to get into a conversation about it. But that’s if you’re lucky.

I say this because despite the fact texting makes difficult situations very easy it is growing ever more common to suddenly hear nothing. One minute you’re planning when you’re next seeing them or a first date, the next you send a text and in return you get nothing. Not a cancellation, let’s rearrange or a sorry but I’ve changed my mind. All of those things easy to do over a text or so you’d think but, apparantly not. Or is it? I think it is if you’ve got manners. Ignoring texts is rude and leaves someone on the other end wondering what is going on. This type of behaviour goes on from men despite their age. Not something exclusive to young guys and boys, surely you would expect better from a man in his 40’s? Infact it appears the older the man the worse the problem. This usually is the case when some sort of ‘situation’ is going on at their end. Instead of communicating this with you the contact stops. So, if one minute you’re getting lovely texts but the next you don’t hear from them consider yourself ‘dumped’!

Toy boy anyone?…

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25th August 2012

Saturday morning and there’s only one thing that will do…a good cup of coffee and a bacon buttie. It was a sunny morning so I took a walk  and ordered my coffee and bacon roll. The deli was busy and the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of the coffee machine filled the air. I selected a magazine from the rack and took a seat outside . It was one of those gossipy mags which one minute is saying someone has a great figure and the next is saying they’re fat. You know the type, we all loathe them really as they’re bitchy and selling a lifestyle which is unrealistic to most ‘normal’ people yet we succumb to them.

While I waited for my breakfast I read the usual tripe that is probably untrue. The bit that caught my attention was a small piece about Jude Law 39 dating a model who’s 26. Then there was an interview with Peter Andre (39) gushing about how great his 23 year old girlfriend is and what interesting conversations they have. As I tucked into my food I thought- Why is it totally acceptable for a man to date a younger woman, in some cases much younger? Yet, there are plenty of raised eyebrows when it’s the other way round.

Having said that the real issue for me is I don’t understand why they want to date someone so much younger. Take away the obvious- the girls look good, their skin is tighter and it give the guys an ego boost, what do they actually have in common?

I mean I couldn’t imagine turning up to meet friends with a 23 year old man in tow. Yes I’m sure he’d look good and I’d expect his stomach to be toned and trim but conversation mmm that’s a different matter. I would be dreading what he might come out with!

I’m not being judgemental I’m actually speaking from experience. Having been on the singles scene (well am) I see many young people out and about. The girls are very pretty with the barbie doll look and the boys look after themselves, were many men over 35 fail to do so. So what do you do when you’re the wrong side of 35 (ahem) amidst handsome young men? You think why not.

I went through a phase were I thought it would be rude to not enjoy myself . So depending on my age at the time I would minus an average of say 15 years (age old enough to have a baby) and I’d get my lowest age for a man I could date. And with that I had some dates with men in their early 20’s, mid 20’s and late 20’s. They were nice to look at but conversation proved hard work at times.

  • I realised songs they liked I’d heard first time around.
  • I’d sit thinking eg when I was 18 experiencing Ibiza playing Adamski and Seal you were just starting primary school.
  • I’d look around their eyes at their line free face and then be conscious of mine.
  • I hated being called ‘babe’ or ‘baby girl’. Cringe.
  • It bugged me how much time they spent texting.
  • Most lived at home with their mums still. Turn off. What do you do, go round and sit in with their mums?
  • When they talked about their weekends I’d remember doing those things but now would have a 3 day hanogover or I’d rather be sick through my eyes than do it.
  • One kissed me like he was trying to get something out of the back of my throat. His tongue was hard and like a snakes, it was truly awful. I pulled away with a look of ‘what are you doing?’
  • They just came across ‘young’.

I honestly don’t know how Caroline Flack did it. And I know boys are more immature than girls but having male single friends and seeing what they go through then I really can’t see much difference. If they’re playing games , wanting lots of wining and dining, turning up for a dvd night in heels and a dress or coming round but spending nearly all night on their phone , then they’re a young girl. You can spot it a mile off (there are always exceptions).

So what do these older men and young women talk about? I’d love to be a fly on the wall in the Peter Andres house. Or do they not care? In a world were we hear more and more that age is just a number, is it really? More women are dating younger men and why not? But is it not nice to have things in common with a partner? Or at least know most things they are talking about. Would a date who’s 25 share my love of Mork and Mindy or be able to sing along to The best of Tear for Fears? I know you don’t have to have everything in common but you get my point?

If anyone has a younger other half and it works I’d love to hear or just share your stories…
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Would Jennifer Anniston?…

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I don’t know what it is about the Trafford Centre but I always need to prepare myself. I needed fuelling. It baffles me that in a place as big as the Trafford Centre there isn’t one cafe, all large coffee chain shops. So I headed to good old M&S. Toasted tea cake and cappuccino was on the agenda, that would do the job. I’m a sucker for a scone though so once my eyes had spotted them the tea cake was out of the window.

Let’s just say the manager must have been off that day. No spoons, knives, trays, plates or clean tables. Mr Marks and Mr Spencer would not be happy. Anyone who knows me would know that my facial expression was saying that I was not happy either. That said the scone was nice and the coffee hit the spot.

As usual I ate with a slight uneasiness. This had nothing to do with the disarray of the place but the fact I am neurotic about the TC being a bomb magnet. I prefer to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Nothing will rid me of this fear due to me once having a fear of getting shot. ‘That won’t happen’ my mum used to say, until one day I was walking home from work and came face to face with a gun pointing at me (it was a swat team and it was London). O.k so I didn’t get shot but there was a gun. My point is…shit happens.

Now I don’t know about you but to me the Trafford Centre is a world of its own. It’s almost like a cool hangout for kids. Is it ever not busy? Check weekends for example. Girls are walking round dressed like they’re on a night out. Actually they could be there is the cinema etc. But even just for shopping. Not only is aging bad enough but do I really have to think about what I’m wearing just to nip to the TC? Erm yes if you don’t want to be mistaken for their mother! It only gets worse near christmas when Selfridges hires a dj and then it’s a night out. I’m partial to throwing on a pair of trainers and my tracky bottoms for ‘nipping’ places but you’d look like a bag lady in the TC. Well, habits die hard so I refuse to give in to the peer pressure.

The reason I was back there is because I can’t be bothered trying clothes on before I buy. I’ve usually not thought out my shopping attire and have something on that takes ages to get off eg have numerous layers on or knee socks over my jeans under my boots. Adding that to my neurosis and it culminates in too much time and hassle. The lesson I’ve not quite learnt yet is the fact it actually takes twice as long in the end as I have to go back as things don’t fit or look right.

The last time I was in the changing rooms I remember looking around only to notice everyone looked half my age. I remember having the thought -should I be shopping in here still? That put me off slightly. Also some fitting rooms have ridiculously bright lights that show up every flaw, lump, bump or grey hair. How could anyone possibly look good? Then there’s the mirrors. Is it me or do some mirrors actually make your figure change shape? And not for the best. What’s with tiny fitting rooms that you can’t swing a cat in? Hot flushes hardly enhance the experience. I’d also developed a bad habit when trying things on in shops. I don’t know why but I’d imagine myself (in the item I’m trying) doing something. It might have been out with friends having lunch, a night out or on holiday, I’d think ‘this would be nice for…’ and then I’d buy it. The reality is it would end up sat in the wardrobe (as I didn’t have the posh night out). So trying at home has its advantages. It’s real, you in your life.

I do know I am a creature of habit and still wear clothes I did when I was 18. I love my cardis (delighted knitwear is coming in the shops) and have a soft spot for sequins. But certain items I’m drawn to I have to ask myself the question ‘is this mutton as lamb?” My mutton bar is Jennifer Anniston. She looks great since turning 40 and her dresses have got shorter and neck lines lower. Proving it’s how you wear things and appreciate your best assets. So I then think- would Jennifer? If it’s a yes it’s mine, if it’s no then it goes back on the rail.

Currently I’ve joined my friend’s ‘uniform club’. Living in the same clothes -which consist of jeans, t shirt and blazer. It’s terrible really when I think of the clothes I have yet, I probably only wear a quarter of them regularly. That’s the bonus of being single, not having to sneak clothes bags in or lying about how much something cost. The fact that my recent purchases have been off my ‘need’ list has stopped any buyers remorse. One thing I did not regret buying was the slice of carrot cake.

Wrapped in cellophane, boxed and popped in a bag of its own. Treated with tender loving care. The same buzz as buying something new. And just as satisfying once home-buying remorse free!

I was merely passing through Selfridges food section when the cake counter shouted ‘over here!’ at me. And then I realised it continued around the back with cheese cakes and macaroons. Spoilt for choice was an understatement. I was good and opted for the carrot cake. Moist with small pieces of walnut. Delicious. This was one purchase I did not need to ask ‘would Jennifer?’