Gin. Again.

Regular readers of these pages will need no introduction to my favourite poison.

I'm not much of a gin expert, though.  To rectify this, one sweltering Sunday Alice and I went on a mission of gin-education.  We attended an event run by The Drinking Classes, called G and Teatime.

 

We weren't quite sure what to expect, but what we got was this:  We were greeted with a glass of an absolutely delicious punch, which had been made, bizarrely but to great effect, with chai tea.  Our host explained to us that proper punch has a specific ratio of sweet and sour. (Alice wrote it down, I was too busy drinking)

 

 

 

What followed was a history lesson about the origins and rise and fall of gin throughout the centuries, which came with some very interesting nuggets of info, such as how the phrase 'Dutch courage' came into being.  We were given samples of three different gins to taste (neat!!)  That was pretty painful (I love gin, but I like my G&Ts nice and tonic-y), but after the first sip has blown your head open, you can actually drink it much more easily and discern the different flavours. 

 

 

 

We drank tiny gin martinis, designed our own G&Ts (I put apple and mint in mine - delicious!) and ate sandwiches and cakes from the afternoon tea cake stands.

 

 

 

Afterwards, we wobbled home, not really drunk but feeling very relaxed, sun-drenched and happy, and neither of us went to our rehearsals that night!

 

 

Mother's Ruin

Eh up.

In the absence of anything noteworthy appearing on these pages (in the absence of anything noteworthy appearing in my life), here is a photograph that I snapped because I was wearing an idiotic hair ribbon.

Don't bother with poisoned apples; Snow White likes GIN.

But I have decided instead to turn this toast post into an homage to one of my favourite Christmas presents.

Photographed hanging out with its pal, Gordon, here is a vintage china decanter label, which was given to my auntie for her 21st birthday, and now resides on a chain around my neck.

It's Saturday night, why stop at one?  Bottoms up!

 

Always drink responsibly, kids.

 

Lilac and Red

Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm a genius or an idiot.  I wanted a pastel-y, sixties look, but none of my pale pink or powder blue or even silver accessories were doing the trick.

 

 

So I went for red, and ended up looking like the bastard offspring of the Christmas Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

 

And look!  Fairy wings!

 

 

Dress: Primark
Shoes: Topshit, 2008

Belt: was a Christmas present, but I suspect H&M

Hair: Poundland version of Bumpits!*

 

 Photobooths.  Best idea EVER.

 

 

*'Bumpits' is a dreadful product name.  Bum.  Pits.  Why did they ever think it was a good move?



Born to Speak All Mirth and No Matter

My first week of the hols has involved...


Pub
Ditching pub for pub quiz game at home
A million washing
Starbucks
More pub
Thelma's Gypsy Girls
Shakespeare in the park
Tidying cupboards!
TCM marathons
Sunny bicycle rides
Primark
Unsucessful wig-dressing
Togas
Being photographed for the newspaper
More pub
Being painted white
Gardening (!)
Slack-jawed yokels
Spiderman
Trains
Appearing in the newspaper
Sisters and mothers and aunts
Late-night shopping
The dentist
Day trips to Liverpool
Late-night Olympic opening ceremonies!
Craft-making and art galleries
(Super simultaneous art-gallery-visiting/book-reading-at-the-same-time skillz)
Tomorrow's plans involve taking in a matinee at the International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival!

Pratting around with the little sister, as standard.

 This is how I enjoy art galleries.

TTFN,
Bette x

Cool Brittania

Hello viewers, here is the one thousandth Jubilee-themed blog post you will have seen this week.

We kicked off the jubilations on Friday with a red, white and blue non-uniform day at school.  I'm usually wearing some patriotic combination of those colours on any given day, so I tried to think of something to give my outfit a little extra something to bring it from everyday clothes to dressing-up-at-work funtimes.  My accessory of choice turned out to be...

...white tights!

I swear, each time I have to grudgingly pay good money for a show-costume accessory, adamant that I will never wear said item again, it always ends up coming in useful at the most surprising of moments!

All day I was compared to either Snow White or Alice in Wonderland, which was rather flattering!

Red shoes: Charity frock swap

Red belt: Christmas present a hundred million years ago

Red lipstick:  Jemma Kidd

White tights: Can't 'member.

White blousey thing: Jumble sale

White pearls: Market stall in Bulgaria

White hair flower: No idea.

Blue dress:  Dorothy Perkins.

Blue eyes: model's own!

I think I looked swell, but all day I had dress jealousy.  Imagine being surrounded by hundreds of small girls, all in full-skirted, polka-dotted, striped or Union-Jack-ed red, white and blue dresses, cardis, socks and shoes!  We have some very well-turned-out children at our place!  I must say though, it made me very sad that almost all the little boys' contribution to the theme was an England football kit.  Words can not describe how much I hate, loathe and despise football.

Anyway, after one of those brilliant work days where by morning playtime you're already able to say that the amount of cake eaten has far surpassed the amount of work done, I turned my back on school for a whole week. (Which is almost over already!)

On Saturday I journeyed down to the capital to see Alexa's new house, celebrate her birthday and, of course, to see the Queen!

There she is!

It was chilly and drizzly down at the Thames river pageant, but we had a jolly good time.  We saw all of the action on a big screen, and when the flotilla finally reached our bit of the river the crowd got really excited.  It was all very infectious.  When her Majesty's barge went by, everybody got the giggles!  Here are a couple more snaps:

And then I came home and dressed up like the Queen.

(disclaimer: there was an actual good reason behind this!)

My Glamorous Showbiz Life

Viewers, I don't underbloodystand Instagram.

So, most of these photographs are uplopaded from my new telephone the old-fashioned way, with a USB cable.  I lose at the future.

1. Self, in coral.  I like coral these days.  If I were a proper fashion blogger I might do a Polyvore-heavy post about coral, but in reality I'm useless and lazy so I won't.
2. An E-NOR-MOUS apple cake.  The heaviest thing I've ever baked!
3.  Bicycle sporting this season's on-trend florals.
4.  Simon beat me at Scrabble, and I wasn't pleased.

5. The view from my chair in the staff room. First photo on new telephone.
6. A little plastic swallow swooping in my hair.
7. Actual arty-farty hipster Instagram picture!!
8. Gin and tonic inna can.

 
Maybe by my next boring, information-less blog post I will have learned how to use instagram, and then my snapshots will be prettier.  Here are some more scenic photos, showing my fun weekend in York.  I went down on the Friday night train with Matt, Laura and Phil, to catch the opening night of The Merry Wives of Windsor, performed al fresco in the park, and starring our very own Kayleigh. 

Ok, I've just checked, and I didn't actually take any nice photos.  Instead, here are a pair of snaps of us in the audience (bonus Pimms-in-shoes, if you look hard enough), followed by an arty-farty blogger picture of some spices in a spices shop the following day.

Here are three questions that have been plaguing me lately.  All to do with high-street brands, as it happens - perhaps I should post them on Twitter instead and get sent e-vouchers and freebies in return...?

1.  Why are my two different shades of @MaxFactor Colour Adapt foundation such completely different textures?  One is thick liquid, the other a mousse...

2.  My pretty @Clarksshoes Henderson Sky brogues are beginning to fade.  Where can one obtain hyacinth blue shoe polish??

3.  Are @Aussie_Hair_UK shampoos notorious for stripping colour?  I noticed the bubbles coming off my head were grey (shamp is yellowy out of the bottle), and it's a good few weeks since I last dyed my hair...

Get in touch if you know any of the answers!

In the curtains, in the silver, in the buttons, in the bread.

Do you know what I'm going to do?  I'm going to buy a new smartelephone (Old phone missing, presumed pinched.  Some inebriated moron (me) left it in the back of a taxi back in Feb.  Telephoning needs currently being met by an old phone, which is perfectly pleasant but doesn't do apps, and I miss my angry little bird friends.), and then I'm going to download instagram and take square little retro-filtered photographs of all the jolly things I see in my splendid life, so I can put them on my blog and have something to talk about.  I enjoy other bloggers' 'snapshots' posts (cos nosy), and I also seem to have fallen out of lurve with Boring Outfit Posts of late (Ahem.  Cos LAZY.), so I'm going to resort to replacing quality blog content with pictures of food, dresses and particularly high-scoring/hilarious Words With Friends words.

Here is an example of the useless things you will have to look forward to, lucky, lucky readers.  Simon and I frequently find little kitchen notes left for us by visitors, the appliances, each other or 'Mo', our imaginary resident junk food stealer.  Here's one penned by a lasagne.

P.S.  Isn't my new background pretty?

This is what Half-Terms are for.

How I Spent My Half-Term Holiday

by Bette, aged 25 and a quarter

Friday

On Friday afternoon I skipped away from school, changed my clothes and ate some toast, and drove with Philip and Simon to Sunderland, whereupon I put on a pretty mediaeval frock and a pointy hat and took to the stage as Lady Angela in Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience.  I felt that Friday was the best night of the run, and it all went splendidly.  After the curtain fell I retired to the pub, as is traditional.

Saturday

A long-awaited lie-in, some house-cleaning and soon it was time to go back to Sunderland for the fifth and final performance of Patience.  Laura said to me, as we were sipping our secret backstage fizzy wine, "If you cry tonight, I'll punch you in the face.", so I kept the weeping at bay, and after we had performed the house down, packed up our costumes, taken down the set ("Heads on stage!") and enjoyed tea, cake and speeches, we tootled off to Laura's flat for wine and karaoke. (You haven't heard 'A Whole New World' until you've heard it in Mackem accents), finally flopping into bed sometime in the morning.

Bloody brilliant.  Thanks for having me, St Andrews.

Sunday

Far earlier than my aching head would have preferred, Phil and I carefully on tiptoe stole out of the flat, leaving Jen, Seann and Laura sleeping, and returned to our side of the river.  I put down my Patience costume bag, picked up my Pirates costume bag and headed out for a looong rehearsal.  Not gonna lie, at that point performing in Pirates was the last thing I wanted to do.  In fact, Phil and I were secretly planning to just do Patience again.  I mean, once we were on stage they couldn't stop us, could they?  Surprise!  Anyway, after a somewhat chaotic run-through, I returned home and played host to the mother and the aunt, who have come North to see my shows.

Monday
The first and only day of the fortnight that did not involve any sort of rehearsal or performance.  The mother and aunt and I went to Fenwicks and the Tyneside and the Laing art gallery and the Baltic (to be perfectly honest I mutinied and stayed in the Baltic gift shop and cafe), and narrowly avoided the Biscuit Factory, and then back to the Tyneside to see the Artist and then to Zizzi's.  Calzon'Pizza (Silly name.  I would have called it a Pizzazone.) is possibly the greatest invention of the century.

Tuesday

I couldn't cope with any more culture, so I waved the mother and aunt off to Durham and Simon and I sat around watching useless rubbish, which is what, I think you'll find, half-terms are FOR.  Soon it was rehearsal time again, only this time we had Pub Plans.  (Pubs are also what half-terms are for.) After a fairly successful run-through, Simon and I marched over to the Men's Bar (which, in the new refurbished Union Society Students' Union, goes by the silly name 'MENSBAR'.  Probably 'MENSBAR @ Students' Union.  Why do so many things have silly names nowadays?) for Diesel and crisps.  When they called last orders we convinced our GBFs Phil and Chris to come to the Goose for some more drinks and gossip, and when we got kicked out of there we went to some bar until actual last last orders (FYI, blackcurrant sours (or 'sars', if you're Northern Irish) enrich our lives.) THEN a dirty takeaway and then home, for pyjamas, tea and after-show party mischief plotting.

As far as chronology is concerned, this photograph is a lie, but it sums us up pretty well.

Wednesday

I was up and at 'em on Wednesday, despite Tuesday night's over-indulgence, with a trek into town on the hunt for various bits and bobs and secret birthday accessories.  Mission.  All day it seemed completely improbable that it was dress rehearsal day, but nonetheless, I rocked up at the RGS at 6, installed myself as chief make-up Nazi artist ("No no, singing men, you need LASHINGS more eyeliner.") and then boom, we were on!  Dress rehearsals are always a bit hectic, but this one was relatively successful, and I enjoyed the beginning of my stint as naughty Isabel! And then we went to the pub.  And then pyjamas, tea and Big Fat Gypsy Weddings.

Thursday

I decided that the thing my Isabel costume was missing was a large hair ribbon, because nobody else had a hair ribbon and I like to make the audience look at me even when it's not my turn for the limelight (I am a total bastard to direct, and Simon is worse.  I pity anyone who has ever had to direct the both of us.), so I went and purchased myself a bonny blue ribbon, and, more excitingly, welcomed off the train my dear chum and partner in mischief Little Hannah, who comes to live with us a couple of times per year.  Hannah had brought a bottle of home-made sloe gin and Alice brought maple syrup and pecan cakes, and we celebrated Hannah's birthday most satisfactorily!  Then it was Opening Night!  The mother and aunt had returned to be in the audience, and we put on a jolly good show.  I was rubbish and kept doing things wrong (AND the poxy hair ribbon fell off, which I suppose was my comeuppance for being a diva), but on the whole it was grand.  And then we went to the pub. And THEN the core cool people decided that after last orders it would be a brilliant idea to all pile into Laura's little car and decamp to Casa Bette/Simon (via the chip shop, which had technically closed half an hour earlier - it was a case of "What have you got left?" "Two portions of chips and a sausage." "We'll take them!") to drink wine and watch the DVD of our last performance, HMS Pinafore: The War Years: Buxton Edition .  Hannah fell asleep on the sofa but the rest of us had a splendid time, and accidently stayed up until ridiculous o'clock again.  What half-terms are for.

Naughty Isabel terrifying poor little Frederic.

Friday



We languished in bed with sore heads for a while, and then sent Little Hannah out for sausage sandwiches.  We caught up with some more trashy tv (Geordie Shore AND Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents!) and then headed off to a(nother) pub to meet Rory and Hull people, before returning to Pirateville.  The second night's performance went much better than the first, and afterwards we went to the pub.  At last orders time some tipsy idiot (Simon) had the brainwave of going round the corner to Mr Lynch's for cocktails.  Whoops, another very late night and sore head!

Saturday
Too lazy to go out and find actual food, we had birthday cake for breakfast, and managed to bring ourselves to life just in time to attend the 60th Anniversary Reunion celebration for members and alumni (I sneakily manage to be both!) of Newcastle University Gilbert and Sullivan Society, my beloved NUGSS.  It was fascinating to meet people who had been in the society in the '50s, '60s, '70s, '80s, '90s and '00s, and you can imagine my glee at the moment when the whole room became an impromptu Pirates singalong.  Tarantara! 
After a quick shopping trip for after-show party supplies (bread, bacon, birthday badges) and a very quick turnaround, it was back to Jesmond for the final performance.  Three shows always seems such a flash-in-the-pan, especially after my five-night run of Patience.  Still, "Nothing lasts forever in the theatre.  Whatever it is, it's here, it flares up, burns hot, and then it's gone."  (All About Eve, the film version of my life)  Surpise pirate candles, handkerchiefs and Queen Victorias abounded, and we had the best audience of the week.  While the more conscientious members of the cast helped with the get-out, Simon and I went to the pub.  After last orders, it was party time!  Every NUGSS after-show party I've been to (Twelve, in all) has gone down in society history for some reason or other, and while this one may not have been the most scandal-filled, we all had a blooming good time.  I fell back on my usual after-show party routine of drinking gin, demanding everyone tell me who they fancy in the cast, and flirting with any passing baritone, while Simon licked people's faces and talked about our fellow cast members in code.  We hi-jacked the party and made everyone celebrate Simon's birthday, and bundled our blotto selves into a taxicab at 4.30, and retired.



Sunday

Sunday was spent, in time-honoured tradition, on the sofa in our pyjamas, watching Facebook explode with show photos.  Poor Simon slept through most of his birthday, I spent a great deal of it worrying about my lost phone and purse, and we had to say goodbye to Laura and our little housemate Hannah.  The idea was an early night, but post-show bereavement gives me insomnia, and it was after relatively little sleep that I dragged my despairing self out of bed, into clothes and up the hill to work this morning.  That's that, then.