Leap Out!

(That title is definitely to the tune of "Freak Out" in my head-- see, now "Freak Out" is probably stuck in your head too. Whoops!)

This year when I was home for Christmas one of my brothers remarked on the idea of a 'leap day'. 'Leap Day' is the 29th of February, but what if, one year every four years you could take a 'leap day' any random day you wanted. Just decide the day was too nice for work, or that the evening was too fine to be cut short, and so you declare you are going to 'leap out'. Take this time back for yourself. Not necessarily in gloomy, dark, cold February-- but how about in  May? June? October? A whole day, gifted back to yourself. This year our calendar 'leap day' falls on a Wednesday. It seems a waste for something so special to just be another 'hump day', right?

What about retaking that day for ourselves? It's a crazy notion, right?

Plans are like Dragons (or knowing when to plan)

Plans are like dragons. Seriously. Dangerous. Tricksy. Filled with the ability to derail you, destroy you or in some very rare cases fill your life with some unexpected but hard earned riches. Don't believe me? Think about it.

What does a good plan do? It challenges you. It allows you to get from point A to point B. Sometimes, it's filled with all these dangerous moments. Moments where you can get completely off topic and never get back. Plans are dangerous. People who plan are a little scary. A little bit like dragons. Either they are prickly, terrifying or sitting on a large amount of treasure they are trying to hoard.

I have since learned that your shocking ability to plan makes you part dragon.  We can now be friends. 

Things that make me happy . . .

GAME OF THRONES SEASON 2!

Really, that's all I can say without *squeeing* all over the place. Season 2, April 1st. I cannot wait! Last year I read the first three books in a breathless rush-- then I had to take a break. It got a bit too much for me. I can't say why on here (massive spoilers), but if you've read the third book, you know what I mean. This year I intend to read the next two books in the series. The books are fabulous and if you haven't read them. I highly recommend them. 

International Love is a Dangerous Thing Day

Today is my dad's birthday. I feel like I need to get that out there first, before I state the other obvious, today is also Valentine's Day. I've always been a bit eh to downright hostile about the day. As a kid, it was an excuse for my grandfather (my very first Valentine) to give me a box of chocolates (which c'mon when you are six is awesome!) and eat too much heart shaped candy. As a teenager I grew to hate the day. It's a Hallmark Holiday designed to make you feel bad. Why should a greeting card company dictate when I tell someone I love them? Shouldn't I tell that person (or people) every damn day?

I should. I do.

Life is too short not to tell the people that you love how you feel every day.

Oh, the things you find in Chinatown . . . .

Recently my husband and I were strolling through London's Chinatown. It looks stunning as the Chinese New Year has only recently passed (hello, year of the Dragon!) and most of the decorations are still up. For some reason, red paper lanterns make me happy. Stupidly, childishly happy.

Anyway, my husband bought this:

Doesn't that look adorable? Something you'd give to a small child as a party favour, right? 

Snow! (Welcome to Narnia!)

It doesn't snow that often in London. But when it does, the whole world just looks so different. 


Our back garden gate looks like something out of Narnia. 

See, you could just open that door and be in Narnia, right? Where is that bloody lamppost? And Mr Tumnus? Where's he at?

love to hate to read you, babe

I'm not a mean girl. I never was a mean girl. I'm pretty sure I was too spacey and borderline oblivious to be that clever, cunning or cruel as a teenager. I was probably a victim of many a mean girl, but somehow as a teenager I didn't let it phase me. I have to kind of respect that about me. Because really, with a red afro and perhaps not the best taste in clothes, I could have been pretty miserable. And yet .  . . I wasn't. Overall, I was a pretty happy person, still mostly am.