In Hollywood Minnie travelled far, They changed her name to Minnie LaMarr

Polkadots.  My wardrobe is bursting with them. (See?)  Most of 'em are red and white.

Dressing up.  I heart it.  Particularly when there are alcoholic drinks, cameras and my bestest chums present.

Small wonder, then, that when I hear the siren call of a fancy-dress party I frequently fall back on my favourite costume, the ever-stylish Miss Mouse.

When I was very little I had a treasured Minnie Mouse dress.  It was t-shirty, and the skirt was red and white stripes and the top had a picture of the Mouse herself chalking "I <3 Mickey" onto the wall.  I loved it! 

Well, we're not going quite that far back in time with this pictorial Toast Post, but we are going time-travelling.  Here is youthful me as Minnie Mouse way back in 2007, and ginger me as Minnie Mouse in 2009...

I made those ears out of coloured card and a polkadot headband, wore them twice, carried them through four house-moves, and then dug them out once more for last month's 'Kayleigh's moving away, so let's all dress up as cartoon characters and get drunk' party.

Oops.

So Magic Box it was, then, for some generic mouse ears that were too big for my head, and an irritating sponge mouse nose that Simon made me buy even though it kept falling off and it smelt bad.  Oh, and I finally found a use for my silly dungaree skirt. Behold!



Squeak squeak!



Toasty Warm at the North Pole

Newcastle is sporting almost a foot of snow at the moment:

It's all very picturesque, but in the past week I've spent an inordinate amount of money on items to keep me warm.

My jolly old pink tweed winter coat has been on its last legs for the past two or three years.  It was my birthmas present in 2004 and Mum threatened to withold it if I fannied around any more on the subject of completing my UCAS application form personal statement, which was supposed to have been done in October, only my devious ploy was to NEVER do it, and thus NEVER go to university and stay seventeen FOR EVER HOORAY!  (Yes, you may all roll your eyes at me.  I am.)  Anyway, lovely pink bribe coat's lining is in shreds and tatters, one button doesn't match the others because it pinged off and I replaced it with an odd one, one button is missing altogether, it lets in the rain, and in all honesty it's too small, so I thought it wouldn't be too much of a needless extravagance to spend my birthday money (oh crap, must write thank-you letter to Granny!) on a lovely new coat from Oasis.  

It was actually several months ago that I started eyeing up this coat, but I'd been very indecisive about it for a long time, because it was rather expensive. Then I found myself unexpectedly on a course on Friday, and it finished at 3 and I was in town already so I thought "Bonus!  Free shopping afternoon!", and of course I found myself, quite against my will, being magnetically drawn into Oasis, and lo and behold they were having a random 20% off day, which took the coat over the threshold from the scary three-digit zone into the more acceptable two-digit zone, and I had a birthday cheque (cough ahem write thank-you letter to Granny tonight before you forget again cough ahem) burning a hole in my pocket and my mind was made up.  Except my mind wasn't made up, because I had to try the coat on in both colour variations FOUR TIMES EACH before I eventually decided to get it in grey, on the basis that it would look better with red accessories.  As you see:

 

So that was keeping most of me warm, but in addition to that I've also had to buy those very schön polkadot wellies that you see above, a pair of knee-high fur slippers and the best £10 I've ever spent, a pair of thigh-high cable-knit woollen stockings! 

Grey woollen coat, red polka-dotted skirt, grey woollen socks, red polka-dotted wellies.
Also pictured (accidently, but I rather like the effect), my No. 1 winter warmer, the switch for my trusty electric blanket.

They're seriously the best things ever.  I refuse to be cornered into wearing trousers (hate the things) for the duration of this 'cold snap' (Er no, Kirsty the Daybreak weathergirl, I think you mean 'bleakest midwinter'), so I've been simply slipping these babies on over my usual thin tights for my walk Herculean struggle through knee-deep snow to work, then peeling them off once I arrive (to the general hilarity of the staff room, but they'll get used to me and my dressing up).  They're so lovely and snug, and also they're woollen stockings and they make me feel like a Chalet School girl in the Alps in 1935.  I'm going to get them in every colour.

So between that lot and the leather gloves, polkadot scarf and cashmere jumper that I was given for my birthday by various lovely people, I've been as warm as (betteon)toast.  Oh, and I must just show you my other secret weapon...

 

That's a very lovely, Christmassy vinatge box, Bette.  What can be within?



 

Hmm, looks...furry?





Nice vintage label, these garments must be very elegant and chic...



ARGH KING KONG HANDS!
(Note the artfully placed, seasonally-themed clutter in the background - coats, wellies and brolly)

Fur and leather ENORMOUS gloves, possibly fashioned from the paws of an actual gorilla (doubtful but you never know).  I must admit, I did think "Yeah, never gonna wear those" when they were given to me by one of my more eccentric relatives several years ago, but that was before I'd lived through a Newcastle winter.

Overheard in the staffroom this morning:
"Do you have a pair of wellies to co-ordinate with EVERY outfit, Elizabeth?"

While we're on the theme of wellies, I wore mine out for drinks on Friday night, much to the scorn of Simon, who claimed I looked like a farmer.  I thought I looked like Keira Knightley in The Edge of Love, but we agreed to disagree.

(I was digging, 'cos that's what farmers do)

Victory was mine, however, when the blizzards meant that we had no hope of getting a taxi and had to walk much of the way home.  Poor Simon's feet were soaked in his flimsy canvas Converse [/completely sarcastic fake sympathy].  And then we made a snowman and snow angels in the middle of our street because it seemed like fun at the time. 

This toast post has got ridiculously large.  None of you care this much about my winter woolies.  I'm off to write my thank-you letter to Granny.  Nighty night!

"A cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing."

Overheard in the staffroom this morning:

"Don't bother taking off your coat, Elizabeth, you're going on a course today.  A taxi's picking you up in ten minutes.  See you on Monday!"

Well, I was slightly miffed because I'd been promised that today we were going to skip numeracy and have an hour of singing practice instead, but I thought hey, free lunch, so off I went to this course on autism, and very interesting and useful it was, and there was plentiful tea with nice biscuits.

But!  Lunchtime!  Anyone who's read that book about the Dog in the Night-time knows that sensory food issues are a common side effect of autism (and I should know, 'cos food issues are one thing that I'm very good at!), so you would expect, wouldn't you viewers, that the National Autistic Society would know better than to shove three or four ingredients into every little sandwich, all mixed up together touching each other and horrid things urgh urgh urgh urgh?!  I was ravenous and I couldn't eat any of the sandwiches because they all had shit in, and what was for pudding?  Fruit.  So in the end I managed to find two ham-and-pease-pudding sandwiches on the same plate as sandwiches with tomatoes in and they were alright after I'd scraped the slime off and picked the fat off the ham, and I took a banana, but as it would have been my third banana of the day I simply couldn't face eating it. 

I went to Greggs on my way home.

Anyway, traumatic sandwich experiences aside, at least I looked awesome:

Polkaface

One, two, three, hop, see me dance the polka.

Do you think I've maybe got a little bit of a problem?