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someone reminded me of this old old TV advert for chips the other day and I had to look it up and watch it all over again. This used to make me laugh so much when it came on – it made me not hate ITV so much for having ad breaks every 15 minutes…

We went whale watching off the coast of Santa Barbara

And saw humpbacks and fin whales!

And in my head the whole time was that clip from Finding Nemo where Dory thinks she can speak whale…

From The Times this week: (via my mum)

Motorists in the Paris area faced chaos after two feuding districts re-routed road markings to leave two one-way streets facing each other. Authorities in the suburb of Levallois-Perret decided that the D909 route brought too much congestion into the area, and made it a one-way street, forcing traffic into neighbouring Clichy. However, Clichy retaliated by declaring its section of the D909 also one-way, but in the opposite direction.

Shoe shopping is a nightmare for me. I really hate it. Partly because I have big feet (in proportion of course – I don’t look like Sideshow Bob, I am pretty tall) and the shop assistants have actually been know to raise their eyebrows when I request my size. Um, hello, I know lots of people with my size, I cannot be the first one your have encountered in your career!

So when I find shoes that I like I tend to wear them continually until they actually drop off my feet or friends start to beg me to throw them out.

I went shopping yesterday afternoon becase my mum has told me I have a wedding shoe purchase deadline of 29th August. I did buy a pair of flats that are purple (oops, just gave away the colour scheme :) and were in the sale but this morning decided they weren’t nice enough to be wedding shoes. So I wore them to work.

And now my heels HURT.

What is it about new shoes that they always wrip your feet to shreds? WHY? Surely shoe manufacturers have been doing this long enough that they could have worked out how to make them so that this doesn’t happen?

Ok, rant over. Thank you for listening.

the last week, my Dad and I have been sending the odd email about church music – what he will walk me down the aisle to. Our church has a prtty lousy technical system so a CD might sounds rubbish but I don’t really want any of the heavy-sounding organ music.

I think I may have solved our conundrum this morning… Jodi sent me the link to this youtube video and I laughed until the tears ran down my face! So. very. fun.

p.s. this actually reminds me of a friend’s wedding – in South Africa, my friend Lungile got married and he fiancee, groomsmen and bridesmaids all danced cheoreographed steps down the aisle! She followed a little more sedately though ;)

So you may remember my dream of starting to dance in the street and having a whole lot of people just join in with you, like happened in some of the old musicals…

well I just found this video today. Oh what I would have given to have been there when this happened!


Dutch humour in a multistorey car park in Breda

Dutch humour in a multistorey car park in Breda

When I first re-started writing my blog last January, I discovered google reader and became, hmm, somewhat addicted. I added other blogs all over the place until the day google told me I had over a hundred new entries to read, when I had only checked the previos night. I did a huuuuuge cut down then much to the benefit of my lunch hour.

But there are a still a few women I read religiously like The Pioneer Woman and all those amazing culinary goddesses in the sidebar who have formed a conspiracy to massively expand my waistline.

And Heather Armstrong’s hugely read blog Dooce. She makes me literally laugh outloud and then email what I just read to Jen or my mum, or both if they’re lucky. To spare them today I am just going to quote the conversation with her daughter she typed up and plead with you to go read the whole of the rest of her blog :)

Leta: “Mom, I love to read.”

Me: “I know, Leta. I think that’s awesome.”

Leta: “My friend Hannah can’t read.”

Me: “It’s okay that she can’t read, Leta. Not all five-year-olds can read.”

Leta: “No, she can’t read because she’s tall.”

Me: “Oh, really? That’s how it works?”

Leta: “She’s tall, and I want to be tall and you never let me be tall!”

Me: “Whoa, hold on there.”


Me: “Leta, I married the tallest one I could find. I DID MY PART.”


Me: “And have you seen my brother? He’s six-foot-four! I’ve given you nothing BUT tall.”


Me: “Are we seriously having this conversation?”


Me: “Aren’t you supposed to be busy throwing rocks at windows? Isn’t that what most kids your age are doing? HERE, TAKE THIS PERMANENT MARKER. GO WRITE ON THE WALLS.”

Oh this made me laugh so hard!

Imogen delighted them with her neat housewifery, assisting them in preparing their supper; for though it is not the custom now for young women of high birth to understand cookery, it was then, and Imogen excelled in this useful art

From Charles and Mary Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare childrens’ book, 1807