all five horizons

Today is my 32nd birthday!  To celebrate, I have a spare copy of the July 08 issue of Martha Stewart’s Living Magazine which I am happy to send to anyone who wants it.  I bought it thinking my subscription wasn’t going to start for a couple of months and the same issue arrived yesterday in the post!  Just leave me a comment or email me at kate[at]allfivehorizons.co.uk with your address - no need to pay the postage, I just do not want it to go to waste!

Yesterday I was in full-on strop mode.  I left work early (thanks to my lovely boss aka Dad) in order to pick up my new glasses.  I was really looking forward to putting something new on my face on a daily basis and when I went in to collect them, I was still really pleased with my choice.

As the lady at Vision Express was checking the fit on my peanut of a head, she realised they needed some adjustment.  Off she toddled to do whatever it is they do and then after a short while returned looking sheepish.  Apparently, my £300 glasses had snapped in her hand.  Of course, she was going to replace them.  Of course, she was sorry.  But I didn’t have my new glasses so I was officially pissed off.  She told me she would call to let me know how long it would be (she didn’t).  When I called to find out today, they didn’t know and said they would call back (they didn’t).  When I called AGAIN, they told me that the manager was on the phone ‘as we speak’ (code for ‘oh crap, we forgot to phone around’) and she would call me back (she did!).  When she called back, I was told that the glasses are not to be found at any of the nine stores she tried (a) they have over a hundred and b) how do they not have a cetnral database of stock?).

Anyway, long/tedious story short, they have to order them from Dolce & Gabanna overseas so it will be 7 - 10 working days at least.  I asked for a refund in the meantime (which she seemed shocked about but I want to have the £300 in my account for the next two weeks, not in theirs - is this so wrong?!).

After this disappointment, I slurged on the Prison Break boxset seasons 1-3 only to get home and realise there was a disk missing.  Not the disk we were up to (thank god) but the next one meaning no Prison Break when I get home tonight.  And so the foul mood accelerated into a full-blown strop.  Thankfully, this has now been rectified for our uninterrupted viewing pleasure.  Heads would have rolled otherwise.  I am not normally a moody or stroppy person but man, I was in a foul mood last night.  Not pretty.

When I was little, my parents always called large spiders in our house ‘Charlie’. I don’t know why they picked this name but by making the name cute, it made spiders less scary. I was never afraid of spiders and I think this is a direct result of this game we used to play. Spotting a Charlie was fun and instead of running away, we used to chase it to try to catch it (not to kill but to relocate outside). I am so grateful to my parents for this. I think it is really clear that parents’ fears transfer to children. Since my parents are not afraid of much (heights, spiders or any of the usual phobias), I am not either.

My lack of fear for spiders has developed over the years into a real fondness.  I think they are adorable!  My ex-boyfriend used to have a pet tarantula called Bob and he was a complete cutie.  I used to handle him with no problems although I had to be careful of his spiney knees.

Not being afraid of spiders can come in very handy, for example when you are climbing into the loft (aka filing archive) at work and this little chap has made a home right by the light switch, it means you don’t fall off the ladder!

This is a true Charlie – quite chunky and very big (this one has a leg span of about 4 inches with its legs flat). We haven’t moved it – we don’t mind sharing our office with it.

I have been wanting to write something about the power of girl friendships for a while and just lately, the subject has come up within my own group of friends so I guess now is as good a time as any. Despite always having a big groups of friends at various points in my life, I have found that as life has taken be to different parts of this Fair Isle, I have successfully managed to keep in touch with only my closest friends (for which I am very grateful to Facebook and email!). And whilst I love these women (and men), they all tend to be at least an hour away which means I get to see them at best, once a month and then with husband in tow. I would not want to lose these get-togethers because I am lucky that my friends and my husband all get along so well and we have such a blast but every now and then, it is nice to have some quality girl time.

I often complain to my husband that I have no local friends and recently, while at a friend’s BBQ, I heard a familiar complaint from some of the girls there. Despite the fact that I have been with my husband for 6 years and despite the fact that I consider the friends I have made through him to be dear friends, we have never really done the ‘girls night out’ thing. In fact, it took one of them to get married for us to have a hen night to remember which started the thought ‘we really should do this more often’.

Realising that a lot of us felt the same way – we had no-one we could confide in or go to chick-flicks with or go dancing to crap cheesy music with – we finally started doing something about it. Thanks to the powers of Facebook, we had our inaugural girlie event. Low-key and certainly not ‘girls go wild’, we met for Sunday brunch / coffee and spent two hours gassing. It was a blast. Plans quickly followed to see Mamma Mia (something we knew our respective other-halves would sooner put out their eyes than do). Wednesday night, a few of us managed to get together (despite technical faults at the cinema of choice) and see this ridiculous, cheesy but immensely entertaining flick (I plan on writing more about the film here soon). I have not laughed like that in a cinema ever and the bonding experience (that phrase makes me feel queasy but it’s exactly what it was) was just what I needed.

I am determined that our girlie outings continue (we are taking it a step further next time by introducing alcohol and possible dancing – oh lordy!). What we give to each other and what we take from the time together is essential - whether it is a collective bitching session to salve some hurt feelings, sharing a problem that is secretly making you crazy or just finding common ground when, love him as you do, your bloke just doesn’t get it. Now, I just need to think of a name for our new gang…

I upgraded Wordpress and then lost some of my customisation so please excuse the header and orange and anything else that looks out of place!  Grr.

Edit:  Ok so that is all fixed.  I am starting to get the hang of this ‘find someone else’s solution then copy/paste it’ stuff.

I just bought some new VERY comfy work Clarks shoes. I think they might look a bit ’special’, if you get my meaning, but they are very comfy and go with everything.

I have been singing this to myself lately:

Created using Wordle thanks to Miss Attitude.

I guess we couldn’t be your colonial oppressors forever, right?

Well actually I am not Canadian but ricardo will get the reference.  You see, on our honeymoon in 2003 in the Domician Republic, there were several groups of Canadians (I assume) who were always wearing some form of Canadian merchandise which literally said ‘I am Canadian’ on it.  This simple-sounding (in the worst possible way) phrase amused us no end.  Little did we know that this was part of a phenomenon.  So to those of you who wear your ‘I am Canadian’ baseball cap with pride, Happy Canada Day!