Eggsellent.

We have had a lovely Easter and managed (worryingly quickly) to relax and forget all about statistics, medicine, clinics, tiny molecules, bacteria, exams, damp/leaky house, PhD, wedding planning etc etc. Bf and I went to stay with my parents and spent most of the weekend with them and my aunt and brother. Many games of swingball were had, and much lazing in the sun occured. On Easter Sunday we went to Pangbourne for lunch by the Thames and wandered through the water meadows. Lots of boats drove(?!) past as we were eating scotch eggs. I am not sure if I would like a boat. You seem to have to sit there looking serious pretending to be serious boat type (+/- peaked boat hat) whilst everybody on the towpath stares at you and says things like 'bet that one cost about £300k. You'd have to be on it every week to make that worthwhile eh. Oh no, I don't like it. Looks a bit small and there's no outside space to speak of...'. On other hand, is probably very handy indeed for getting about in comfort in event of large flood. But having boat for contingency purposes in event of biblical flood not overly economical. Anyway I digress.

We had taken a BBQ with us in the hope of having sausages (bf loves sausages. He does have a nice soul though, so is not like my old boss and therefore is acceptable). Sadly there was a giant sign which said 'NO BBQs', with a strategically positioned police car sitting right next to it, complete with very pale and possibly not sun-loving policemen (it's true what they say, he looked about 15 to me..). The policeman was hovering some distance away from where a group of people had set up a giant monster BBQ. He told us that it was not actually illegal to possess the BBQ, but the moment it was lit, he would have to extinguish it and report the name of the responsible lightee to the PARISH COUNCIL! We decided it was just too risky to um, risk. Luckily, it turned out my mum had brought a small foil parcel of cooked sausages in her bag (is possibly only woman in world who brings contingency cooked meat to meat-cooking events. I have many things to learn.).

Do you have any family traditions? My family have a few. Is funny how they seem normal to you if that's what you grew up with. Am not sure bf thinks is all entirely normal but he is very accepting. I in turn am fairly accepting of his familial tendency to eat cold meats, gherkins and hummus for breakfast.

At home, every year, we decorate hard-boiled eggs the day before Easter and then bash them together one at a time on Easter morning. The holder of last egg to crack wins. There is no prize, the glory is more than enough.  As the 'children' in the family (ie me and my 23 yr old brother) have aged the decoration has become more elaborate than the spots and stripes of old. Last year we had egg-heads of all the family. They were startlingly realistic but as you probably don't know my family, I won't share them as it will a) be meaningless and b) possibly mean that every time I refer to someone you imagine an egg version of them, which would be mostly inaccurate.

This year's eggs had a wider a-peel (hard boiled..) based as they were on the upcoming Royal Wegging. Have a look below. Bf is a genius and drew Queen and Charles. I am less genuis and drew Wills and Kate. Brother, like me, has talents in other areas, and drew Harry and Camilla. What do you think?

Wedding Party: L-R Prince Charlegg, Camillegg, Williegg, Kegg Middleton, Heggy and Queen Egglizabeth. Oh and a simnel cake in the background. Never had one before. Nice. Not too Xmas cakey considering the overlap in key ingredients.

Nestling at the fridge after-party. Spot the lemon. And Faceless Man!

My family are very original when it comes to Easter eggs.

I hope you have a good week this week, at work or at play. I'm at home tomorrow as my work is closed - will be revising for my stats exam but hopefully sitting in the sun while I'm at it! See you later!

Three lovely things from today

A few interesting and pleasingly pictorial things today. Firstly, a vegetable update: my, how much they've grown! They were only yay high last time we saw them. Etc.

Here are a squash (in front) and courgette (shy, hiding behind). And a coffee pot and watering can. Squash has a purple pipe cleaner crutch as legacy of a terrible accident that befell - literally - it on the way back from its vacation at my parents' house. This plant was actually the sole survivor; many others were lost in a nasty coolbox-falling-sideways-out-of-the-car accident and it was touch and go for a while. But to look at him now, you'd hardly know.

I find it interesting watching things grow. Who knew for example that their first leaves are different from all their other leaves? Well, my mum says she knew that from her biology a-level but who ELSE knew?! Not me! They're called cotyledons. And what a good word that is! The cotyledons seem to shrivel up and die as the normal leaves get established. You can see them at the base of the stem here. They were quite juicy looking when the plant was young.

Squash and courge - six weeks old on Saturday. Party time!

Secondly, a fashion spot. Now, having just moved from London to what I consider to be 'the countryside', I am finding many differences in my daily exposure to clothes on the trains and streets of Britain. But today's spot is not a new thing. Oh no, these beauties are not unique to the South West - although if they were I would be more forgiving. If they were for example some sort of brilliant development in agricultural / farming technology (eg cloven hoofed appearence means they don't scare the cattle..), I would think them a little more excusable. But alas, I believe they first appeared last year in Heat on Danielle Lloyd, and toward the end of the summer people were wearing them in London. I don't know what they're called and refuse to google it but they are a sort of combination between a boot and a flip-flop. Perhaps they are called boot-flops. Or floots (which is also a good word but not as good as cotyledon). Whatever their name, their appearance is questionable and their practicality even more so. I find them quite yuk. But I am fully aware that if enough of them start to appear, they will begin to look normal, and then even desirable (ref. appearence of skinny jeans - crazy horrid things on the back of the bootleg 90s, but now entirely normal. Oh but we're back to flares again now, which look weird...). And then I will buy some. Such is life.

Floots, boot-flops, whatever, at the station. The two-way colour combo makes them even more desirable doesn't it?!

Finally, the best thing - have you tried a magnum double caramel?! AMAZING. I have always been a Feast girl personally. Magnums a bit too dull and vanilla-ee. But this one.. oh my god.. TWO layers of chocolate sandwiching a gorgeous gooey layer of caramel.. lasts for ages and tastes divine. Woop!

More nice things from the garden. I think you can just make out the double layer of choc and the gooey caramel bit. Mmh. I have just realised it looks a bit like mucus. It's not! It's lovely!!

Bath Time

Being in Bath (as opposed to the bath) is a new thing. Bf and I moved down from London last year and it has required more adjustment than I expected. Lots of things have happened since we moved, some wonderful and some very sad, and along with the new house, new jobs, new people and new city it has been a lot to take in. HOWEVER one brilliant thing about living here is that we have a LOT more space (to have people to stay and to store both 1. fun stuff and 2. bf's collection of ever so learned and ever so important and cannot under any circumstances be chucked out or accidently ruined and therefore oh dear might as well be got rid of  papers). Also, and even more brilliantly, we have a garden!

If you are in the UK you will know that we are currently experiencing an unseasonal mini summer (hopefully this is a taster of what's to come and not our actual summer, that would be +++ sad!). Sunglasses, flipflops and flowing skirts have been broken out and today there was a girl on my very humid train in denim hotpants so short that you could see her bum. The train was full and she was rubbing her bum against the back of my seat as the train swayed. The man opposite had to suddenly read this morning's Metro. I alternated between terrible jealousy and mild disapproval (I am nearly 30 after all. Everyone should shop at White Stuff, no? ;o) )

Anyway, back to the domestic side of things. We ignored the garden when we first moved in and got a bit of a shock when spring came, it defrosted and turned itself into the South West's answer to Wisley. It is quite nice out there and although I still view gardening as being almost as bad as housework we have had a lovely time out there over the last few days. Lots of flash BBQs, plus bf has been enjoying lazing around in a hammock that I bought from a pirate museum when I was 12. Massive bargain! Here's a pic of the hammock, plus BBQ which I think looks a bit like it's plotting to scuttle off somewhere. It actually belongs to the landlord so perhaps it wants to follow him to France for the summer (having wintered here in the shed hanging with the hoes; not much fun to be had for BBQs in the Alps over winter I would imagine).

Now we have a garden, we have done the predictable late 20's thing of trying to grow something useful in it. Here are our courgettes and butternut squi. They are babies here; they have gone supermegagiant in the three weeks since this was taken! Oh how quickly they grow up! Am so glad I have been here for this important time! Enjoy them whilst they're small, they'll never be that little again! Boil them and eat them! Hehehe!!

The kids on holiday at my mum and dad's house. Courgettes on the right, squi on the left. The courgs grew faster than the squash. That monster one started growing about 4 days after we planted it!

Age 14 days. He has definitely regained his birth weight!

The Marcus Diaries: Part II

Hello again! Sorry about the long silence! I have been a bit busy with wedding preparations, the garden (unexpectedly gone mad with all the sun and due to many visitors required urgent taming in manner of lady who has not gone to hairdresser for a year , had an unsuccessful run-in with a home-highlighting kit and has to meet the in laws in 2hrs time), the new job and our new obsession with dashing outside, wrestling with the shed, extracting and and then attaching accessories onto our bikes.

So anyway, before I vanished I promised you pictures of the Dylon Days. My first ever Marcus And The Dylon photo is below! I used to take them at work. I sat kind of diagonally behind Marcus and he never much seemed to mind posing really. Pictured are the original and infamous trousers - with slightly prominant zip, which probably contributed to aforementioned Fade. There are a few interesting things about this outfit:

1. The shirt has been dyed, as well as the trousers. 100% of this outfit has been customised by Marcus.
2. The shirt was originally light blue with lighter blue/pinky stripes (I quite liked it). The Dylon has taken differently to the different stripes, adding a certain depth to the shirt.
3. Despite using different colour dyes, it seems to me that there is something about the two colours, possibly the intensity, which makes them look very similar.
4. Shirt has evidently been sewn with non-cotton stitching to which the dye has not been attracted at all. This lends it a dangerous line-dancing style je ne sais quoi.

There is more where this came from - but enough for now, plenty to be getting on with! See you soon!

Marcus Outfit 1. Trousers: model's own. Shirt: model's own.

The Marcus Diaries Part I: Overcoming crotch fade

'What is crotch fade?!' I hear you cry. 'What are the symptoms? Am I at risk? Is it something that comes with age, along with bald patches and saggy jowls and hairs that grow out of the top of your nose? Is there a treatment? Is it reversible? Has the Daily Mail written about it at length? What is the incidence and prevalence and, god forbid, the mortality rate?'

Well. Crotch fade walks amongst us. It is on the tube, in parks, in cinemas and in offices. To our great despair, it was in my old office. But never fear. It looks to be curable. Marcus is, as we speak, engaged in a pilot study to eradicate it from my old workplace.

The presentation of crotch fade is as follows. (Wo)man walks into your office, wearing a pair of much-loved, well-used, dark-coloured and doubtless very comfortable trousers. Your chair is (in the most part unfortunately) at a height which means your eyes fall naturally at belt-height when somebody walks up to your desk. (Wo)man approches. Your eyes are magnetically drawn to their trousers by something that is just not quite right. And there it is! The crotch fade. Faded over the top of the zip, from years and years of being rubbed and worn in washing machines and other scenarios. Faded in a vertical line from belt to crotch.

Sometimes, crotch fade can be identified by the wearer themselves and the offending trousers relegated to the textiles bin / 'painting clothes' pile (for the day that you envisage might come where you no longer live with crusty yellowed landlordly woodchip and actually paint a wall yourself). Sometimes, the wearer is oblivious. But sometimes, although identified by the wearer, the trousers are loved SO MUCH that (s)he continues to wear them despite the fade, hopeful that it is not as bad in real life as it appears in front of the mirror. This is what happened to Marcus. Eventually, not being able to hide the magnetic attraction of my eyes to his crotch for another day, I mentioned The Fade to him. He said how much he loved his trousers. I suggested (not entirely seriously it has to be said), fabric dye. Marcus was VERY interested in the idea, which in his eyes offered sanctuary and rehabilitation for old but much loved clothing. And so, the Dylon Chronicles began.

Dylon has now become something of a passion in the office. Marcus has been known to take in clothes from his colleagues, launder, dye and press them, and return them in a rejuvinated state. This service is very popular and he is something of a dye pimp amongst the three or so people who are in the inner circle of Dylon knowledge.

I am sure you are dyeing to see some pictures. When I get home, I will post some. This you will want to see!!

Have a good Thursday, all.

The Marcus Diaries - prologue

Marcus is a great one to share an office with. Every Tuesday and Wednesday (the days he actually turned up at work), he would give me his leftover breakfast melon chunks. This continued for several months until two fateful days in a row when the melon tasted funny. He was not imagining it tasting funny. It tasted a bit like kippers.

After that, he took to buying sandwiches from Pret and eating them for breakfast. I think he liked the sandwiches more than the melon, as I never got a look in. It was an enjoyable time despite this, as we got to watch as he consumed a large lunch for breakfast, and a large lunch for lunch, whilst never becoming fat. Mrs Lemon and I could live our fantasy food lives vicariously through him as we diligently recorded our daily calories on MyFitnessPal (this particular phase lasted for about a week, although it is sometimes resurrected. With clauses, such as 'i ate that when I was drunk/tired/cross/out/bored/about to go swimming/ intending to go swimming so it doesn't count').

Marcus likes to be clean and he likes everything to be in its place, sometimes parallel to its closest object and preferably stored in the box it came in when it was purchased. He hates the underground but cannot tolerate the idea of not living by a tube station. He is very generous and will often bring in sweets and biscuits that he used to eat as a child for us to try. He grew up abroad so these things are quite novel to us. And often come in dayglow colours.

Marcus is visually very pleasing, selecting his outfits with great care. He has recently become a fan of the restorative powers of Dylon and this has greatly and literally brightened our days! The story of Marcus and the Dylon is a tale of challenges that we have all faced, overcome by Dylon and Marcus's unsuspecting landlord's washing machine. Drop by later for more!

M's desk, with pen in specialist mini one-pen-only pencil case placed at jaunty angle