Chez Spud

Famille Spud is confined to barracks – we have swine flu. Bawl. Not badly, let’s hope it stays that way. But since we are housebound I thought I’d pass the time by packing for Blog Camps 1.5 and 2.0 (I know, greedy..TWO Blog Camps). A little ahead of time, I realise, but a girl can’t be too organised.

Here are my boys‘ Trunkis which I think are the perfect size for the trip. One for essentials, the other I will take empty and then snaffle a couple of friends to take home with me.  I don’t have any many local buddies and at this point my options seem to be (a) knit my own or (b) steal some. Well, I’m not at all crafty (so don’t be expecting any of that crochet nonsense from me, I ‘might’ manage finger knitting?) so (b) it is.  The case is kind of small. Must remember to take axe to dismember Blog Camp attendees so I can squish them in my Trunki and then reassemble Chez Spud. Ta da!

Inside one I’ve packed all the essentials:

1. Blog Camp T shirt
2. Standard issue Converse
3. Entire lens/camera stash
4. Bottle of white wine (for the journey – will send 10 cases ahead. Each)
5. Dressing up kit
6. Wig (just in case)
7. MacBook
8. Passport
9. iphone (for non stop Tweeting)
10. Grudge Book (never leave home without it)
11. Stones for Julochka in case she needs a fix. They are special ones. From my driveway.

Still to be packed:

1. Spare liver
2. Funnies
3. Bleep Revision Notes (so I don’t boob and call everyone by the wrong name)

On the final point, I am aware that I am a Woman of Mystery due to my penchant for dressing up. I don’t want my fellow BC victims attendees to worry about which one I am. So I had my name printed on my Blog Camp T shirt. Thoughtful huh? So, ladies, when you spot the bearded, googly eyed, blonde swishy wig, habit wearing one…you’ll know it’s me.

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Somewhat alarmingly, HRH Blogger of Note Extranjera keeps goading me to fish out that swishy wig and put it on a pig. “Pig ‘n’ Wig” she calls it, like “Guns ‘n’ Roses”, or “Pick ‘n’ Mix” (Let’s take a collective moment to mourn the passing of Woolworths shall we? UK peeps only….)

Never one to shy away from a challenge I plotted a ‘Pig ‘n’ Wig’ shot for Her Royal Maj before, during a particularly challenging downward dog pose in yoga (read: trying not to fart, or “let go a boomer” as NBF Ali calls it)  I realised that posting pictures of dressed up pigs on the internet would bring the mighty combined forces of animal welfare and Freaks R Us knocking at my door pretty rapidly. But what to do? Her Royal Maj wants a Pig ‘n’ Wig? Then she shall have it. Extranjera SHALL go to the piggy ball(s) (more of which later).

But let’s step back in time shall we? Let’s review our pigs’ lives, their successes and failures, their fame and their fortune before we subject them to ridicule and bacon sandwiches. There are three little piggies, and we own them as part of a ‘co-op’ with a couple of friends. They were born in January 2009 and came to live with us in April; 2 boys and a girl (although were were initially told 2 girls and a boy…doh, you would not BELIEVE how easy it is to sex pigs [no, not like that] more of which later). So here’s one in the very early days, so small, so sweet…they are Norfolk Blacks…got to love those sunshades!

Pigs! Fun for all the family, here’s MrSpud and Diggy giving them a tickle. They look SO small here. In those days, April, I probably could have popped a wig on them no problem..a beard and googly eye specs too I would imagine.

But, look, it’s not just fun for the family! We can ALL get in the pig pen…here’s the ‘wife‘ taking shots with Bloggy Approved Nikon kit, and her daughter looking funky as ever. NB Bertie having to be lifted up, he’s not that keen on the pigs. Or dogs. Or girls.

Oh, here’s the wife again shootin’ pigs again…nice wellies … FOR LONDON! ONLY GREEN WILL DO IN THE COUNTRY…

And, because I don’t think enough people have seen this photo (567 according to Flickr…not that many actually…one of my photos had 22,000 views this week. YUP, 22,000 – crazy! It was on the Yahoo homepage, I think?), here’s the wife about to enter the pig pen. Why is her skirt tucked in her knickers? What does she think is going to happen in there? They’re not ‘those’ kind of pigs you know…

Oh, and as mentioned earlier, pigs are pretty easy to sex. I ‘think’ the one on the right is a boy. Not sure why, just something in the turn of his head…

But before we all get too emotionally involved with the pigs, here’s how it’s going to end up for them later this year…

So back to Extranjera and her ‘pig ‘n’ wig’ request. Well I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, but equally I feared the wrath of the ‘njera’. So I asked the pigs for their view and made a video for evidential purposes. Note how huge and shouty they are these days…I was prepared to accept that ‘no meant no’ on the basis of their speed and pointy, hurty trotters. Plus, they eat people, did you know that? So I wasn’t prepared to push the “pig ‘n’ wig” suggestion too far…

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Dragged out of the archives for Scribbit’s July’s Write Away contest as ‘My most adventurous moment’…wearing a blonde swishy wig for a day. Quite an adventure for an elfin cropped curly brunette:

I want therefore I get, it’s simple enough. I’ve always, always wanted blonde swishy hair in an elegant bob rather than the brunette frizz bomb that I have. So I bit the bullet and bought a wig and, once I’d tussled it off Postman Andy who was surprisingly reluctant to give it up, I wore it for most of today. Yes, you read that right, I didn’t just pop it on for a photo. I wore it all day. In public. With people looking and everything. Never let it be said that I am not committed to my Secrets!

Here I am all dressed up and ready to go in to town for my swishy day, trusty iphone camerabag application to the ready:

I was feeling a bit nervous and felt sure everyone was pointing and staring at me behind my swishy back. So I eased myself in with a little sit down in the market square, unsure of which might attract more attention…a crazy woman very clearly wearing a wig with tufts of curly brown hair sticking out…or a crazy woman taking photos of herself…you decide:

I was too self-conscious to ponder for long so took a deep breath and went in to the very posh dress shop – quite an ambitious choice. It was going quite well until, arggh, the owner engaged me in conversation about my shoes and I felt all flustered – I hadn’t really reckoned on up close and personal human interaction. So I took a quick snap while she was dealing with another customer and made a hasty exit. Here I am looking very furtive and a little sallow – nerves?

Next I popped in to a kind of gift shop with some clothes and, hurrah, found a dress for a family party this weekend. Note the vacuum cleaner in the changing room. Kind of odd. I thought I’d take a full length snap of me before trying it on…I dressed up to match my swishy wig, I didn’t think the swishy wig was a jeans and skanky T shirt kind of gal:

The dress, nice huh? And a bargainatious £40 reduced from £130, so that’s another £90 in my dressing up box kitty. Hope the frock suits me with my regular frizz bomb hairstyle though, I’m a bit anxious it won’t. I considered taking the swishy wig off to check but it was a nightmare to get on and, besides, I was quite attached to her by this point:

Let’s pause for a moment for a from the hip shot of the shop. Mmm, I love this shop but every time I go in there I get overwhelmed and generally buy nothing even though I want everything. Why is that? The shop is called Little Mermaid, how do you like that ye Blog Camp 1.0 people? A little bit of serendipity.

Emboldened by my success I then swished off for an early lunch, and here I am looking pretty chirpy at the cafe:

And it was right around now that things started to go a little pear shaped. Firstly, I had a banging headache (ouch those wigs PINCH, mean cows) but much more problematically…the wind started to get up. There’s quite a breeze at the best of times down by the water and I had not factored for that in my al fresco seating choice. The appeal of the swishyness wore off very fast as it swished repeatedly in to my eyes, nose and mouth and stuck to my lip gloss. And I felt sure it was blowing around in such a way that tufts of my real hair were now showing. A surreptitious feel confirmed this to be the case so I quickly scuttled back to the car to banish the tufts before carrying on with my errands. Here I am at the post office, wig slipping in to my eyes and looking a bit antsy:

By this point I really wanted my own hair back, the wig was slipping forward and my head was slowly being boiled alive. But I wanted to try out my swishy on someone that knew me. So I drove over to my friend’s house to collect some cakes she made for me (she is the BEST kind of friend, the clever cake making type). This was her reaction:

Her verdict? That swishy suits me, makes me look ‘so young and pretty’. Hmmm, because my frizz bomb hair makes me….? I considered a Grudge Book entry but the cakes were in her favour. And besides I agree that I look younger in swishy, I guess she hides more wrinkles? Not sure about pretty but I think it suits me?

So now I know what it’s like to have blonde, swishy hair and now I think I want it even more than before – oh no. As for whether blondes have more fun, well I couldn’t possibly comment – this isn’t ‘that’ sort of blog ;-)

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