Am I a bad mother?

I have booked Maggie into the cattery for next week while we are on holiday. The kindly cattery man, whilst organising her stay, made me feel an absolute monster!

Cattery man: So, what does she like to eat best?
Me: We just give her dried food. Iams mostly, but whatever.
Cattery man: No meaty cat food?
Me: No.
Man: And when you give her a treat, what do you give her?
Me: erm, I don’t give her food treats.
Man: Right. Now, we have our own freshly laundered sheepskin beds here, is it ok that you don’t bring her normal bed?
Me: (starting to feel embarrassed) she doesn’t actually have her own bed. She always sleeps on the landing floor.
Man: Will you be wanting to bring any toys?
Me: She doesn't have any. She just likes to play with aluminium foil balls.
Man: oh. Ok then. Now. Does she have any foibles?
Me: Not really.
Man: Is she likely to get upset.?
Me: Well she always seems to forget all about being in the cattery after being home for 5 minutes.
Man: (sounding suspicious) hmm, well, you’d be surprised.


Actually I think he will be surprised. In my opinion (which may be biased) Maggie is the perfect cat.

(caveat: she does scratch the carpet sometimes, and likes to drink out the toilet, oh, and always meows a lot when you are parking the car – but her cuteness makes up for it)

Belated birthday present

I am admitting defeat.

I have been making a quilt for Jane’s 30th birthday present. I have been feverishly sewing but now I have to admit that there is no way I can finish it by Friday and still make a decent job of it.

Jobs left to do on Jane’s quilt:

1) Piece together backing.
2) Layer up and pin together.
3) Quilt. (One little word, one mammoth task)
4) Make and attach binding to edges.

Last night I was so tired, I sewed half the pieces for the backing together upside down and only realised when I was ironing it. The seams were each a metre long and it took about half an hour to unpick them all. That was the moment I decided to tell Jane she would have to wait for her present.

Sorry Jane. I only hope it’s worth waiting for. It’s a bit of a daring design.

I have read over and over in quilt books that it is a bad idea to make a quilt for someone as a present. This is because they rarely appreciate the hours that have gone into it, might not like your choice of design, fabrics and colours, and may end up using the quilt to line the dog basket.

I read some advice that said to only make quilts you love, and to keep them yourself. Then, when a friend shows an interest in a particular quilt, give it to them in a show of generosity.

This advice does make sense, and I follow the first bit. I would only ever make something I felt a burning desire to make. I could never have the motivation to finish a quilt using fabric I hated, just because someone had requested it of me. However, I really love to give away the things I make. It makes me happy. I have given most of my family members quilt’s, cards and other things I’ve made, and I think on the whole they appreciate and use them.

One year I was going through a chocolate making phase and made everyone truffles for Christmas. I made all the boxes too, with little cases and ribbons etc. Unfortunately I didn’t see Jane until way after Christmas, so her truffles sat for a while waiting to be consumed. In the mean time my family ate loads of the left over truffles that were also getting a bit old. We all threw up. I didn’t dare give Jane her truffles, but she found it quite funny I think, and was glad to avoid being ill.

If jane doesn’t like her quilt then at least I enjoyed making it (and I won’t give her food poisoning.) I’ll just chalk it up in my little black book under ‘friends who will never receive another gift from me until they atone for their sins by buying me cocktails’ Plus Jane doesn’t own a dog so can’t line the basket with it.

The big crafty swapperoony!

Ooooh I've been enjoying the crafty swaps. I had an absolutely amazing parcel from Lisa on Friday. Here is what I found as I opened it:



Loads of goodies, all beautifully wrapped in tissue paper. The first one had 2 fabby rolls of ribbon.



Next were some cute packs of ric rac and wooden buttons:



Then followed a lovely lavender filled pillow (now residing in my underwear drawer) and a gorgeous little needle book, complete with pins!



Just as I was beginning to wonder what else the creative Lisa could dream up , the next parcel contained another lavender filled item, this time one of her trademark heartshaped scented thingys. Its now hanging next to my monitor emanating a calming fragrance; this is my favourite item. Maggie likes it too!




There's more! There was a pretty felt covered note book tied with a ribbon, and a handmade bag which I am currently using to keep the blocks of my next quilt organised.




Last but not least there was a tiny lavender filled gingham heart hanging on sisal string. I love this so much. I have tied it to my handbag.



Lisa is a real talent, as well as a lovely person and chicken keeper. You can buy many of her things via her web site, Primrose Hill Interiors. I had already bought one of her mugs at the country living fair, and now I have more of her items I cannot recommend them enough. Lovely fabrics, and perfectly made.

Thanks Lisa x

I also have a big thank-you to Kate. Kate sings in my choir and after reading about my quilting exploits, was kind enough to bring me back some scrummy fabric from her recent trip to Japan. The traditional cherry blossom patterns on many Japanese fabrics are just fantastic. I will keep you posted when I have decided what to make with my new acquisitions!

Other crafty swappweroonies with Jenny and possibly Tricia are underway - I will report back with any results!

My less-than-pleasant petrol station experience

This weekend I went down to Bolton for a weekend with my chamber choir, Sine Nomine. It was a fair drive and along the way I stopped at a petrol station to go for a wee and buy sweeties.

Just ahead of me in entering the shop was a big fat greasy looking lorry driver, who headed straight for the only toilet.

I loitered by the ginsters pie display while waiting for the greasy man to complete his ablutions. As the minutes ticked by my ‘fear of dirty public toilets’ anxiety grew and grew. Had my bladder not been screaming for relief I would have dived back in the car and avoided the horror that was waiting for me.

The lorry driver emerged looking pleased with himself and I gingerly entered the toilet. Before committing fully, I took an enormous lungful of air in the hope I would be able to wee before having to smell the airborne particles of poo lingering from the previous occupant.

My suspicions were confirmed. The pan was smeared with a generous smatter of faeces of the type that only the bowels of an unhealthy fat bloke with a hangover could produce. I hovered over the pan, thighs burning with oxygen starvation, eyes shut in revulsion, bladder purging with as much speed as it could muster.

Upon opening my eyes to retrieve some paper, I realised the small wash hand basin that was directly under my nose was full of vomit, the plughole blocked with large pieces of very recognisable onion and red pepper. I decided that I would not wash my hands, sure in the knowledge that the germs gained from my own effluent would be vastly preferable to the germs lurking on the vomit covered tap and basin I would have to touch in order to wash.

Upon leaving the hell of the toilet I approached the girl at the till. ‘erm…I just wanted to make you aware that someone has been sick in the sink in the there’ I ventured, pointing to the toilet.

‘oh yes, I know’ said the girl, breezily. ‘That was me. I haven’t had time to clean it up yet’

I ran way without buying sweeties. I have been permanently scarred by this experience.

Her Royal Highness?

Now that both Prince William and my youngest sister are newly single and available, my sister thinks it would be an ideal match. In some respects I think she is right. She is one year younger than the prince, she is beautiful, and she would look marvelous in a tiara. The only reservation I have is this: how would a girl from Scunthorpe, who snorts when she laughs, be accepted by the Queen?

OK, We are working on eradicating the snorting, but just imagine what it would do for the royals' reputation if the Prince married a Northerner! Marvelous.

Now. How do I set up a date?

Japanese fabric quilt

I bought the fabric for this quilt at the Scottish Spring quilt fair in Edinburgh earlier this year. The company do mail order via their website, and they are very helpful in making sure you find exactly what you are looking for. I bought a huge bundle at the show and then bought more on the web when I got home. I think I have an addiction!

As it is I am really pleased with this quilt, which is 130 x 130cm.

Aging

God I'm getting old. I have pulled a muscle in my neck trying to bite my toe nails. Never used to be a problem...

5 things

5 Things I am currently liking:

Alpen fruit and nut cereal bars
The Shield.
The Linlithgow Purely Patchwork shop
Cherry blossom
Diving Holiday anticipation

5 Things I am currently disliking:

Manholes that bang when a car drives over them
Drawing construction sections. (have done too many recently)
My overdraft
Organising my choir tour.
Scaly leg mite. (I do not have this affliction but my hens do)

Recycling

Last week my colleague decided to replace all the old duvets and pillows in his house. He has 2 kids and a wife and a father-in-law. That’s a lot of duvets and pillows.

Rather than throw them away, he has used them in his loft as extra insulation! He discovered that the pillows are the perfect width to fit between the joists, and spreading the duvets over the top covers over any gaps. Hurrah!

The other good thing about re-using them in this way is that you don’t then have to suffer the embarrassment of taking the gross old duvets out of your house where someone might actually see them. 'No, no, It’s a coffee stain honestly...'

(and don't try to pretend your pillows and duvets are spotless. I won't believe you)

Chicken News

Today we have carried out chicken surgery on our 3 hens.

Poor Omelet (pictured below) has got scaly leg mite. These horrible beasties get under the scales of chickens legs and it is very painful. She didn't look too bothered by the mites, and is still laying virtually everyday, but we have treated all 3 hens in case the other 2 get them as well.

The best source of information regarding care of chickens (in my opinion) is the Practical Poultry forum. You can find info on most ailments and problems, and I have had loads of advice from the helpful folk on the forum in the past. The general advice for the treatment of Scaly leg mite is the following:

Catch chicken. (More easily said than done)
Dunk each leg in surgical spirit to kill mites.
Smear leg with Vaseline to deter further mites and to moisturise.
Repeat once a week for 3 weeks.
The scales will take a year to grow back nice and smooth.

I must admit that I hope none of the neighbours saw us moisturising the legs of our chickens. We already have a reputation for being a bit bonkers. This behaviour may result in the men in white coats arriving!

garden wars

Maggie: Can I come out? I really need a wee...
Omelet: I think you'll find that we own this garden.

Crafty Swapperoony

I just wanted to clarify that I'll send you the notebook AND the candles, and I'll also chuck in a few of my greetings cards as well. When I saw what you were offering to swap with me I felt a bit stingy!

Anyway, keep the swapsies e-mails coming in, you talented people! (info@rachelsimonsdesign.co.uk)

Phobias

Apparently cracking your knuckles does NOT give you arthritis. I'm annoyed this myth is untrue because I hate it when people crack their knuckles. I get squeamish and the noise goes right through me like nails on a blackboard, or squeaky cotton wool on your teeth.

My best friend at school had a phobia like that of lolly sticks. She said they made her want to pull out her teeth. Another friend of mine had a thing about people touching her knees. I didn't believe her and tickled her knees until she actually vomited on me. (This is true) It was my own fault - she had warned me it made her feel sick.

Any other weird phobias you would like to confess to?

He just wants a paper!

Nick has been having an ongoing debate with our local spar shop for about 18 months. Here is a condensed version:

Nick: Hello, have you got a copy of the Guardian?
Spar: No we don’t stock them.
Nick: But you have every other major newspaper – why not the Guardian?
Spar: They don’t seem very popular. We just don’t seem to sell them.
Nick: Well if you don’t stock them then how will you sell any?
Spar: err….
Nick: Could you start stocking it please, I would buy one everyday
Spar: I’ll have to find out.

(This conversation occurred for about 4 months)

Nick: Could I reserve a copy of the Guardian by ordering it especially?
Spar: No we don’t do that.

Some time later, and after continuous pressure from Nick, the Spar started to stock 2 copies of the Guardian per day. Very soon after…

Nick: Hello, you usually have a Guardian but today you don’t seem to have any
Spar: No. we only get 2 a day and they always seem to sell really quickly.
Nick: That’s what I’ve been saying all along. It’s one of the countries leading newspapers!
Spar: But we only sell 2 copies, in comparison to the hundreds of Daily Records we sell. (gesturing to the huge pile of Records on the floor.)
Nick: But that’s because you stock lots of them!!!!!!! You can’t sell what you don’t have. There is obviously a market for the Guardian because you have to get in before 8.00 to get it!
Spar: Well... (looking dubious) I’ll have to ask.

(Versions of this conversation occurred for a further year)

Recently Nick never arrives early enough to get one of the copies of the Guardian. Then last week:

Nick: Look, you have always sold out of the Guardian. I don’t mind going to Tesco for it, but I would prefer to support my local shop. I don’t understand why, when newspapers are sale or return, why you can’t just get more in? There is no risk to you financially whatsoever! It’s the basic concept of supply and demand. There is a demand! PLEASE supply me!
Spar: (Blank look)
Nick: Oh forget it.

drumroll.... THE BIG CRAFTY SWAPPEROONY

I know that loads of you out there are brilliant and talented and make all sorts of beautiful things. I would love to swap some of the things I've made for something you have made.

So, does anyone fancy these?:


This is an A5 size notebook with lined pages. I made a quilted cover for it in this lovely retro style fabric.

and...

I laboriously dipped these candles over and over until they formed the tapered shape. They have a really nice homespun traditional look about them. We burn them on the dining table because they don't have any fragrance that competes with the food.

If you fancy swapping then leave me a comment or e-mail (info@rachelsimons.co.uk) telling me what you would like to swap in return and I'll pick the one I like best. Can't say fairer than that!

PS: Boys who don't do craft. - don't go offering me Star Wars action figures or other bits of shite. (unless of course you have lovingly hand-knitted the Action figure, or created the shite from delicately knotted macrame and hand woven fibres.)

How I know I look ridiculous in rowing trousers

Just so you know the story behind this:

At my last office I drank green tea all the time. The thing with green tea is that you don't have milk so it's boiling hot for ages.

One day I had just been brought a cup of freshly boiled green tea and I somehow managed to knock to whole mug right into my lap.

I was wearing jeans. The boiling tea soaked into my jeans, whereupon the denim stuck to my legs causing me untold pain on my thighs and nether regions.

I acted totally instinctively and yelled 'LOOK AWAY NOW' to everyone in the office. I then stood up and pulled down my jeans to get them off my legs. Everyone was shrieking with laughter. I was shrieking with pain. Thankfully I had sensible pants on, and could semi-hide behind the desk. Even so I don't think Steven or Duncan could ever quite see me in the same light again.

As my jeans were drenched Roz lent me her rowing trousers that she had in her car, which were quite possibly the most unflattering garment I have ever worn. However I was grateful, as were my colleagues, who had seen quite enough of my bottom for one day.

Fish: take cover!

Earlier this year, Nick bullied/persuaded Tim (his best man) into learning to scuba dive. Tim has been learning with Divemaster Scuba, who are the same people that I learnt with 3 years ago.

This weekend Tim will be sampling the murky delights of Stoney Cove, an old gravel pit near Leicester. You wouldn’t want to dive there for fun because it is freezing cold and after an hour the bottom is all churned up by novice divers, so you can’t see more than a metre in front of you. Mind you, that really doesn’t matter because the only thing to look at down there are brown rocks, and the odd Cray fish. If you are lucky you might bump into some of the scrap boats they have thrown in to try and make it a bit more interesting.

I have done 8 dives in Stoney cove, 4 on my Open Water course and 4 on the Advanced Scuba Diving course. The last 4 were pretty miserable. I did them in February and the water on the first dive was just 4 degrees. Unfortunately my hired dry-suit leaked and I got so cold that I couldn’t pull myself out of the water, and I had gone blue. They had to wrap me in a duvet and feed me fried egg sandwiches. I still went in again in the afternoon, after they had mended my dry suit with a puncture repair kit and given me more jumpers to wear underneath. Luckily the water had warmed up to a toasty 6 degrees by then.

But I digress. I am telling you this because Nick, Tim and I are going off on a jolly jaunt in 3 weeks to the Red Sea. Tim will have finished his Open Water Course. Lucky for him he will do his Advanced course in Egypt, (rather than in Stoney Cove) on the first 3 days of the holiday. Then we will all dive together for the rest of the week.

I am excited. It wasn’t long since Nick and I were last diving in the red sea. There are some snaps here. Our last trip was a liveaboard – a full week on a boat, sailing overnight to far off dive sites, and doing up to 4 dives a day. It was very full-on and exhausting, and to be frank, quite expensive. This time we are staying in a resort and will be going out on a boat everyday, doing 2 dives a day. We are going with this company. I think the prices are absolutely bargainous.

For me, Scuba diving is about as perfect as a holiday could be. I’m not a sunbathey type person. I like activity interspersed with afternoon naps. Diving fits this profile perfectly! I really hope Tim likes it as much as we do. So, Phil, Jane, Chris and Liv – are you going to learn next?

Things I have learned from Roz

Aaahh, how nice, a comment from my old friend Roz! We haven’t seen each other since last summer (tsk tsk) which is a shame because it is due to Roz that I know the following:

I look really hilarious in Rowing trousers.
The Irish really do love mince and tatties.
MSN messenger works best when you sit 1 metre away from each other all day but have private things to discuss.
Browsing on ESPC is an acceptable way to spend 4 hours a day.
Having frilly pink knickers is ok, even when you are 29.
Using fences on the CAD trim and extend command is much better than the way I used to do it. (I still think the stretch command rules though)
It’s ok to bitch about your job when you have to spend 6 weeks designing a piggery, followed by 4 months designing on a toilet block for a camp site. Then having to re-design it to make it cheaper. Twice.
Living round the corner from a needle exchange is not as scary as I first thought.
Irish people have 2 passports.
It is possible to attach a wing mirror to a mini using gaffer tape.

And many more such vital things fundamental to my life.

Easter egg fatigue

I never thought I’d say this but when I opened my lunch today and found a chunk of chocolate Easter egg wrapped in cling film, my heart sank.

On Sunday I was like a 9 year old. I ate so much chocolate I was nearly sick. There is still stacks of it in the fridge. I suspect Nick feels the same, which is why he has palmed a load off on me today. As a good wife I have pushed on through and managed to force down the chocolate. I wouldn’t want to snub my husband’s kind attempts at providing me with a packed lunch, now would I?

I heard once that the reason we love chocolate so much is to do with the fact that it melts at body temperature. When we put it in our mouths it melts on our tongue. Apparently if lard melted in our mouths like this we would like eating lard as much. I can’t believe this is true.

*Post Script*
I've finished the chocolate that was in my lunch. I need a lie down. I feel a headache coming on...

How to make my cityscape quilt

I have finished my cityscape quilt, which is a wall hanging rather than a practical quilt. During the past few weeks I took some snaps to show you how I made it.

I always plan my quilts on paper first. I can’t help it; it’s the architect in me! The design always evolves a bit along the way, but I like to know how I’m going to proceed.


The fabric I used was the fabulous hand-dyed stuff I’m always harping on about. You can get it here.


First I made up some wide bands, sewing together coloured fabric at the bottom to cream at the top. I made loads of these with varying amounts of ‘sky’.


I stuck these bands onto the piece of flannel on the wall to check the composition and to decided what colour band I needed to sew next. The flannel is great because the pieces stick without the need for pins, meaning I can shuffle things around easily.


Once I had sewn most of the bands I began to cut the curved strips that will form the buildings. It’s important when sewing curved seams that adjacent pieces have exactly the same curve, or they won’t lie flat when sewn together. To ensure this I overlapped the edges of the material and cut through both pieces at once using a rotary cutter.


Cutting the final strips took about a week, because I had to keep rearranging them, and sewing more bands if I wanted specific colours or sizes in certain places. Again, I stuck them up on the flannel wall to see the final layout. Once all the strips were cut I numbered them so they wouldn’t get muddled during sewing.


Sewing curved seams is easy as long as you have cut them identically to begin with. Turn the rights sides together, and match up the edges at the top. The rest of the edges won’t match up at all, because the curves will be going in opposite directions. Don’t panic about this. Just start sewing slowly. Every few stitches manoeuvre the pieces so that the edges that are disappearing under the presser foot are lined up. Try not to stretch the edges of the material.


Once I had sewn all the strips together I ironed the seams flat and layered up the quilt.



A quilt is made from 3 layers. The pieced top, a middle layer of wadding, and a backing. I have to layer my quilts on the living room floor because it’s the only flat surface big enough. I use safety pins to secure the 3 layer together ready for quilting.


Quilting is basically the sewing together of all 3 layers. I did mainly machine quilting on this quilt. To get the bulk of the quilt through the machine I roll the sides up tightly. (I also have a special ‘walking foot’ attachment on my machine which has feed dogs on the top as well as the bottom. You can quilt without the walking foot but sometimes the bottom layer gets pulled through faster than the top and it all gets a bit skew-wiff.)


I decided to use the quilting lines to echo the sewn pieces and also to suggest more buildings in the foreground.


I also did some hand quilting on the sky using pale green thread in a random seed stitch.


Nearly done now. Next I cut the edges square and straight and sewed on the binding. To make the binding I used a 2 inch strip folded over twice and sewn down, first to the back and then through all layer on the front.


To hang it on the wall I attached a long sleeve to the back and slid in a wooden batten. All finished!

Maggie in a hunting mood

Interesting Phenomenon no.10

You know when you are dishing up food and somehow you get a bit of stickyness on your hands and then it transfers to the handles of your cutlery?

Well, try as you might, once the original fork is sullied, no amount of wiping or washing will remove the stickyness. You can try as much as you like with kitchen roll, or the dish cloth, but it won't work.

The only way to rid yourself of the stickyness is to abandon the soiled cutlery, wash your hands in fairy liquid, and start again with new cutlery from the drawer.

It's a circus out there

Boss: (gesturing toward the sample of humanity waiting at the bus stop outside) My god, it's amazing what the sunshine brings out. It's like a circus out there.

He's not wrong. Currently there is a teenage girl sitting on my window ledge, back to one jamb, feet up and wedged against the other jamb. I could reach out and touch her, but she can't see me because I have the blinds shut against the sun.



I wonder if she knows I am sitting less than a metre away writing about her.

I'm a local

I'm in! I'm finally a local!

I know this because today the lady in the sandwich shop said, when I was 80p short, not to worry and to pay her next time. Now all I have to do is work on my Scottish accent.

Game on for my trip to Ohio!

I’ve received the confirmation letter from Nancy Crow, with directions, supply lists, hotel information, etc etc. Now all I have to do is book flights, car hire (how do you drive with those weird American gear lever thingys?) accommodation, buy METRES of fabric, and other sewing accoutrements.

I bought some of these bundles last time I was in America, and the hand dyed quality and subtle variation of the colour is stunning. I realise I have spoiled myself working with these lovely fabrics – the flat commercially dyed stuff looks so boring to me now!

So, I am contemplating having a go at dying some of my own fabric, as a way of procuring large amounts of different shades of colours at an affordable price. However I’m finding it quite hard to find suitable dye. Sure, there are lots of the Dylon machine dyes around, but they are expensive for the amount you get, and I’m looking for dyes I can mix up myself to create gradations of colours. If any of you crafty people out there have any ideas, let me know!

I will have to do my dying in the kitchen when Nick is not at home. I couldn’t bear his eagle eyes watching me to make sure I wasn’t dying the worktops, or subsuming the kitchen utensils.

Mind you, he has every reason to be suspicious. When I was in my soap-making phase I subsumed all sorts to the soap making cause. I used measuring jugs for measuring, saucepans for melting oils, spoons for mixing, and cake tins as moulds. Even the food processor didn’t escape. I tried to keep quiet about it but one day Nick noticed that his tea tasted a bit soapy and ordered me to buy replacements, and to keep my soap making utensils separate. He did have a valid point. At least I now have a box full of my special ‘crafty’ kitchen utensils I can use for my dying experiments!

Way past the cut off time...

This is what happened to my boss during the night. (I was not there by the way, just to make things clear.)

4.30am – phone rings

Boss: (groggy) Hello?
Policeman: Hello. It’s Police Constable McTavish here, from West Lothian Police. We have arrested one of your clients. He is in the cells and would like to speak to you.
Boss: One of my clients?
PC: Yes, I’ll just put him on.
Boss: hang on, which one of my clients? (thinks to himself – Why is an arrested man calling his Architect at 4.30 in the morning? what does he want? An extension to his cell? A nice pair of patio doors? A glazed garden room in which to entertain his fellow prisoners?)
PC: Er. You are Mr Smith, the Solicitor?
Boss: (Relieved) No.
PC: Oh. sorry. Wrong number.

Out of the fashion wilderness

I have trouble finding clothes I like. I don’t really like shopping because I get all upset about my body image and other girly self loathing stuff like that. So, imagine my delight when, on a shopping spree yesterday, I came home with a plethora of new tops.

For many years I have been in the fashion wilderness. The reason for this is due to the horrible selection of style of tops on sale. It started about 4 years ago when every single top on the high street was either see through or had awful wingy bits of fabric flapping off, or both. I looked ridiculous in either type.

Also for the past 5 years the length of tops has been singularly un-flattering for any woman over the size of a 12. It seemed impossible to find any tops longer than waist length and any trousers that weren’t ridiculously low rise. This length is fine when you are standing up, but as soon as you sit (which I do all day at work) it’s muffin tops* a-go-go; a heinous fashion crime, and sadly one of which I know I am occasionally guilty.

So – HURRAH for common sense – decent length garments are back. I bought 5 lovely tops and jumpers that modestly cover my backside and sort of wrinkle forgivingly over my flabby stomach. I am sitting comfortably in the knowledge that my colleagues aren’t subjected to the appalling view of my flab, punctuated by the elastic of my pants poking out the top of my trousers.

It also appears that wonderfully low cut, wide necklines are back in the shops, which are great for me with my large chest. There is nothing quite like a high round neckline to transform a voluptuous bust into an awful lump resembling a loaf of bread. It’s hard being a girl, don’t you think?



*Glossary for Boys:
A ‘muffin top’ is when the flab on your hips bulges out the top of your trousers, and your t-shirt is too short to cover the offending area. See following photo. This is not me. Mine can be much worse.