Pubs

It appears I now frequent pubs in Sheffield again. Of course it helps that three new ones have opened within a mile of our house.

The Ale House is run by the previous manager of the Sheaf View. It has all the character of the Bull in Spalding. Which never had any. But I liked the Bull because it had people I liked in it. I like the Ale House because on Wednesday nights it has people I like in it. Well the ones in my failing pub quiz team that is. It also has good beer, a juke box and judging by the records stuck around the ceiling the manager has quite good taste in music.

I tried the Millhouses a few weeks ago with a friend. I felt a bit like I wasn't posh enough to be there, which apparently is a surprise based on it's chequered past from way before it reopened this time. The food is supposed to be good so I'll have to go back and test it. Maybe my new hair style and make up will make me feel more at home. And it has staggering distance from our house in it's favour. But someone told me the beer they sell is from Cornwall which is a bit odd.

Then on Friday Paul and I went to the reopened Broadfield on Abbeydale Road. The interior is great. Character and comfort. I saw a few people we knew, and spent much of the night sitting with Tilly's reception teacher and Phoebe's pre school teacher which was really good fun. Both girls thought us having a night out with their teachers was hilarious.

The pub was really busy and we spent a fortune on wine, but the place had a really good feel to it. And it sells the best pies in Sheffield apparently. Better than all that Paul was with me in a pub, which happens pretty rarely these days. We walked home looking at the clear sky trying to ascertain which light was Jupiter, which isn't easy with blurred vision even when you have got an app.

And we drew smiley eyes on a frozen windscreened camper van. No I am not having a mid life crisis.

Hair today...sorry I couldn't resist.

Those of you who know me will also probably know that I'm not very good at the beauty regime stuff. Every now and again someone invites me to a home party where upon I convince myself that this time when I purchase the very reasonably priced (if you buy it all together and only right then and there) cleanser, toner and moisturiser I will actually use it. "Yes" I nod in agreement when the beauty consultant asks me if I can spare a minute a day to get beautiful skin. I get my credit card out, and when I get my order I look at the bottles lovingly and put them by the sink. Where they stay relatively untouched until they gather dust and get relegated to the back of the bathroom cabinet. Two years later I throw them away.

And then there's my hair. Up until Friday morning it was long, thick, ginger and, well, pretty much the same as it was when I was a teenager.

Don't get me wrong, just like my attempts to have flawless skin I've flirted with change in the hair department. I had a terrible short hair cut when I was 19 for a while, and every now and again I had a bob that I couldn't maintain or a long "sweeping" (irritating) fringe that I was constantly blowing out of my eyes and which always resulted in me clipping it up with whatever pink Hello Kitty clip I could find in the girls room.

Every time I had my hair cut I would feel better and agree that absolutely I would be back in 6 weeks to maintain this beautiful new hair style. Which I failed to do. After a couple of weeks I'd resort to tying my hair back a lot, probably making me resemble an older, and frankly more haggard, version of myself at 16. Occasionally I'd go out somewhere really nice and so I'd straighten it. Mostly I didn't.

I finally committed to cutting it off and it hit the hairdresser's floor on Friday morning. The reaction has mostly been positive, apart from Phoebe who looked at me like she'd never seen me before in her life and frankly didn't trust me either. She told me twice that she wanted me to put it back the way it was.

I'm a little freaked out by it. It's cold, very confusing when I catch sight of myself in a mirror and has made me feel like I need to wear make up all the time for fear of being mistaken for a boy. But that's probably because that's what happened when I insisted I had my hair cut off at 6 years old. At least this time there is no chance I'll also be wearing my brother's hand me downs.

Anyway I am reliably informed by my husband that I don't look like a) a boy or b) Anne Robinson, which is a bonus. So it's all good. Apart from the fact that I'll have to commit to going back to the hairdressers more often than twice a year. Oh and the fact that now I need make up lessons.

Roof

I can't take it. My pulse is racing and I'm sweating.

No it's not that I worked particularly hard at the gym, but that the builders are finally taking our roof off.

There was just an extremely scary loud bang and a collapsing sort of noise. I daren't look. Well outside anyway. I checked the room beneath the noise and it still has a ceiling so that's good then. I was then really brave and went and had a sneaky look in the upstairs cupboard, directly beneath the roof removing activity. Just as Mark was saying "be careful" to one of the lads.

Yes please. Be careful. I don't want injured builders or collapsing ceilings and walls. Thanks.

And on that note I'm going out. It's blinkin terrifying.

Phoebe

Me: "Tilly you could spend your birthday money at the weekend, or you could decide on something you might like that's a bit bigger and save up for it.

Tilly: "But the only thing I really want is a rabbit."

Phoebe (starting to cry what seem to be real tears) "But I really want a kitten and we can't have one because they make Daddy sneeze"

Me: "That's true sweetie Daddy is allergic. Maybe we can think about getting a different sort of pet like a goldfish."

Phoebe (stops crying) "Can we get an elephant?"

Update

What better to write on a Thursday but an update. And in a Thursday kind of way it isn't very exciting but you can't have everything.

1. Our builders have not built anything since before Christmas. The weather is to blame. On the up side they haven't wrecked my house yet. I don't suppose I would have wanted the roof off during a gale. On the downside the end date is a moving goalpost. If the extension is finished for Spring I'll eat my hat.

2. I went to the gym for the first time in 6 weeks today. Perhaps unsurprisingly I couldn't lift the weights that I could lift 6 weeks ago. It hurt. And that's nothing compared to how it will feel in the morning.

3. I have lots of washing to do. Phoebe still hasn't worked out that actually sitting on the toilet when you need a wee is preferable to weeing in her underwear, on the bathroom floor, or even better on mummy's trousers, jumper, floor and sofa cushions.

4. Our pub quiz team is getting worse. We got 4 out of 20 yesterday. The first and second answers were the "Clapping Song" and Shirley Ellis respectively. What hope did we have?

5. Tilly has been back at school two days and I now know very little about what goes on in her life. Except that she's been painting a number and she got a sticker...but she can't remember what for.

6. Diversifying dinner options at home is going...interestingly. Tilly will still eat pretty much anything I serve up. Phoebe will eat anything that doesn't look "yucky". Apparently a homemade veggie burger in a bun falls into the "yucky camp". Out of the bun it doesn't. Go figure.

7. I went to the library with Phoebe and am now regretting checking out two more puzzle books. If I have to find another minuscule compass in undergrowth I'll scream.

See I told you it was a dull update. I'm off to try and work out what anyone is saying in The Wire with a glass of wine. Instead of doing my tax return. Wow January is exciting so far. You don't need to worry though I'll try to keep my tax return blogging to a minimum...

New Year

Well 2011 is over.

We thought it only reasonable to create a new tradition in the Hilton household by letting a sky lantern go in the garden before the kids went to bed and all making a wish for the next year. After we had negotiated the somewhat treacherous route to the back garden sustaining no injuries, we set light to the paper at the bottom. I had explained that you need to think your wishes without saying out loud so they have more chance of coming true.

As the lantern lifted up Phoebe shouted out "I wish I was a princess". Good job she pretty much is one already.

We were slightly concerned as the lantern drifted forwards rather than up for a bit and I was wondering how I would explain a burning bush to the neighbours, but then all was well fortunately. I can't tell you my wish of course but it's the same one I always have.

It was a lovely day yesterday. Hare and the Tortoise with Paul and the girls and then a visit from my favourite family (well other than my own of course). Playing, tea, hugs and cake.

And New Year's Eve proper? Was it spent in a pub or at a busy party having a riotous time? Of course not. It was spent having a riotous time in our living room with our friend Graham playing Wii Beatles Rock Band and getting drunk. Great fun. And we did make it to midnight. The fireworks were spectacular. I wonder how they'll top them at the Olympics.

I should I suppose end with some resolutions. I imagine blogs everywhere are full fo them but no, I'm not going to do them this year. I just set myself up to fail.

I'd like some change though. Change to a healthier me. That will do.

Happy New Year to all my lovely friends and family, and to anyone else who's passing through the blog world. May 2012 be full of happiness. xx

Hare and the Tortoise

This morning we finally got to see the Hare and the Tortoise at the Studio. The last time I had tickets Phoebe was sick and we didn't think friends or actors would appreciate a vomiting bug for Christmas so I rearranged. Obviously that means I've paid twice but it was still worth it.

As you may have noticed by now I'm not the best at reviewing plays. My main problem is I don't like to be negative because I want to support drama and I usually rate the actors tremendously and wouldn't want them to be upset.

It's especially hard for me to review children's theatre because, well, I'm 36. And I rather like a bit more of a plot than three year olds do.

In the case of the Hare and the Tortoise the plot is understandably limited. There was a Hare, who did everything too fast, and a tortoise, who somewhat predictably didn't. The set was funky, acting great (especially the gurning), and the accordion playing was good. Although I don't exactly have a benchmark for that one.

The play culminated in, you guessed it, a race. You can probably work out who won.

The best bit of attending any kind of children's theatre for me is the audience. The girl in front of us found the whole thing hilarious and the children joined in to help the Hare count which would have been very helpful if some of them hadn't got the number six in the wrong place.

I spent some time watching the other parents sneakily glancing at their children to see what expressions they were wearing. Just like we were doing. Phoebe's face was often of glee. So the plot clearly didn't need jazzing up for the primary audience.

When they turned the lights off at the end Phoebe said "but now I can't see anything". She's nothing if not logical.

So the girls definitely enjoyed it and that's what counts. Tilly likes pretty much any experience that doesn't contain peril. Phoebe immediately said:

"Can we watch it again?", "When is something else on at the theatre?" and "I absolutely loved it". They can write that review on the flyers if they like.

So "when is something else on at the theatre?". Well in the Sheffield Theatres Spring programme there isn't. Not if you are three anyway. Unless you count the Chuckle Brothers and despite whatever our builder says I just can't.

Looks like we might have to look further afield for something to take her to. Buxton has tonnes of stuff on. Although the plot to Percy the Park Keeper isn't exactly a roller coaster. I guess if I need a lift I'll just look at the girls' faces instead.