Sticky rice, tight dress, ska-punk and love :)

Dresses with waistbands that make you feel sicky,

Thai food with noodles and rice that's so sticky,

Ska-punk and punk-rock and dancing with friends,

These are a few of our Date Night happenings...

I am loving being married to The Boy. But when you are married sometimes you have to work really hard to make the other one get tingly tummy butterflies. This means sometimes you have to say "Sit down The Boy, don't get up. What do you need, a brew? Slippers? I shall help you." Or maybe it means listening to me when I casually mention how I need new pyjamas which "HAVE to be boys long pyjamas and HAVE to have pockets and HAVE to be cosycosy" and then surprising me by buying them! Or it could mean a little hand squeeze when we are walking down the road or a cuddle in the kitchen just because. It might mean a txt saying "You're RADIANT!" or a love note on the mirror.

And sometimes it means planning a superb date night. The Boy and I are mega into dates and this week we decided to do the "50/50 Date" which involves one of us choosing the first part (food time) and the other deciding what we do after! It is fun because it means you only know half of your date and the rest is a secret surprise! I thought I would share with you what we did on our date because it is interesting. Maybe you will agree. Let's see!

Last night I decided we were going to go eat at the Thai Terrace in Guildford because I'd heard it was magnificent and it is up at the top of a building with a lift which is always a bit fun. We got all zhuzhed up (like shushed but with a z sound like in treasure, how does one spell that??) and rode the lift to the top. Obviously because it's us we hadn't booked a table (We only decided to have date night that afternoon to be fair!) so we were told to wait in the lounge bar area. It was super snazz and we got some drinks and sat on the sofas. The restaurant is beautiful and had a wonderful buzz about it, everyone talkytalking and sharing their lives. We hardly had to wait long at all before a table was ready and we sat down and ordered our food.

Now, I'd chosen to wear a lovely dress that I have had for ages, but unfortunately being married makes people put on weight (apparently) and my dress was way tight. So tight in fact that I started having difficulty living and felt like I might fly up into the clouds in one more moment. I was trying hard to listen to The Boy's fanciful tales and gorgeous man-voice but was so distracted by the squeezing of my tummy and lungs that I began forming an emergency vomit plan in my head ('drop your napkin', head under table, take phone out of bag, sick into bag...) such was my nausea. In most situations it is always good to have an emergency vomit plan. Tip number 1.

When the food arrived I began to eat and eventually I started to feel better. The food was delicious and arrived very quickly. The Boy had chicken curry and sticky rice and I had veggie noodles. There was a slight confusion when my noodles arrived as the egg in the noodles looked suspiciously like chicken. I don't like eating chickens or other animals so it perturbed me that I had been presented with one. I was assured however that it was egg and that tiny drama was over quickly as it was in fact egg! Those naughty eggs are always trying to look like their mummies aren't they! I enjoyed the bit where The Boy got sticky rice stuck on his face (it really is sticky!) and couldn't manage to find it for a long time. Hahaha. How silly.

After our meal The Boy revealed our after-dinner activity which was a gig at The Boileroom. I was almost blue at this point (remember the dress situation?) so we bobbed home so I could get me ol' jeans and converse on. It was at this point I noticed I'd been wearing my new leggings with the gigantic price tag out the back all evening. (Not the first time that's happened) Typical. That possibly didn't help my discomfort. Always take out cardboard labels. Tip number 2.

We got to the Boileroom and I had to wait outside with the friendly bouncers while George paid in and went for cashback at the bar to get me in (it was like that logic puzzle where you try to get the chicken, grain and fox across the river in a tiny boat). Once in we met my brother and sister in law and had a grand old time dancing and smiling. I love venues like this because you don't have to worry about wearing a party frock or being special and smart you can just be nice and relaxed and have a good dance. Vicki and I found a prime location on a bench at the back. Excellent view and minimum chance of local moshers smashing my beer bottle into my teeth whilst I'm drinking. Perfect. We saw a brill band called Mike TV who were playing with a couple of other bands (including the JB Conspiracy of which my bro-in-lo used to be a member! Woooo!) in an event called Stevestock. It was a charity event raising money in memory of a man called Steve Kelsey who died earlier this year of a brain tumor. The gig raised money for Macmillan Midhurst and Rosemary nurses. That is a kind and lovely thing to do and I was touched that all these sweaty, ska-punk, party-hard beer men would meet in a little awesome venue to dance and have fun in memory of their friend AND raise money to help others with similar illnesses.

The world fights back in the name of love once again and I like it :)

Had a fab date night. I encourage you to check out the Thai Terrace and the Boileroom as they provide for different but equally inspiring dates with husbands, wives, lovers and friends.

Peace,
Hannan :)

A group of Hairy Tales

So I want to talk about hair please. I just had my hair cut and it went in a fairly standard manner. This time. It got me thinking though of all the hair related adventures I have been on and I thought it was only fair I made you hear about them. Here they are listed in the order in which they come out of my memory...

1. The time I was thrown away from the hairdressers...
One day, me ol' Mum took me and Ja Ja (miniature Hannan) to the hairchoppers to get all spruced up. Probably it was the summer holidays. We were children then, and sometimes we got to sit in the children's chair which was usually in the shape of an aeroplane or racing car. So I was sitting in the cool racing car getting my hair combed when the hairdresser stopped combing, turned to my Mum and said "I am afraid I cannot continue. THIS CHILD has headlice"...

HOW embarrassing. Mum rushed us both out of the shop and filled a turban up with that headlice shampoo to get rid. Even now, I sit with my hands gripping the chair, my eyes flitting nervously around the room, trying to avoid eye contact in the mirror waiting to hear those immortal words... "I cannot continue. This woman has headlice!" It hasn't happened since then though so I really shouldn't worry.

2. The time my inability to say 'no' caused a problem with me' barnet...
I was a younger Hannan but not a child. That awkward bit in the middle of grown up and grown down when you're not sure where to put your arms when you stand there, you're learning how to do stuff on your own and you have to speak for yourself... I was having my hair cut on my own for the first time and it got to the bit where she shows you the back in the mirror and asks "How's that love?" I could clearly see without a doubt that one side of my hair was longer than the other at the front. I knew I had to speak up, say SOMETHING Hannan! Come on! You'll be the laughing stock at school! Yet alas... my stupid old mouth let me down and before I knew it I was walking out of the shop having told her that "Yes it looks lovely, thank you very much". My Mum took one look at me when she picked me up and sent me straight back up to the woman to tell her to sort this mess out. The woman looked again and "oh yes I see, OK let's sort this out". She did a few snip snippys and I left the shop with even shorter hair...that was still wonky... I refused to go back a third time and just had to keep putting it behind my ears for a few weeks. No biggie.

3. The time I looked ridiculous...again.
Once, my Mum decided she was fed up with me looking pretty like a girl and decided that I should have all my lovely Rapunzel hair cut away. Kindness, Mama. It ended up being more like a bob (actually would be very trendy nowadays) but the problem was that it was bob-ish at the front but went all the way up to NOTHING at the back! I had legit boy hair at the back. I even had that silly 'v' of hair in the nape of my neck. It was a horrific era of school those days as it was without having a little point of hair for them all to tug on. All day long I got tugged at and laughed at. I was so fed up. And to add salt to the wound my friend Liz had luscious long locks. When she put a jumper on her hair would stay in her jumper "keeping her neck warm" so she would say. I had a cold neck every winter :(

4. The time Mum got snip happy
Now this isn't what it sounds like. Mum has never messed up my hair by snipping it. OK, we went on holiday once, possibly to France, and I got one of those beautiful hair braids wrapped all around my hair. It had many different colours, beads at the end and even used glittery thread! I loved it! However, my hero of a school decided it wasn't in the uniform policy and we had to remove all such lovely things before September. My Mum had a little (tiny) go at removing it with her hands (the conventional way) before giving up and simply snipping it off at the top...

...leaving a tiny sprout of hair on the top of my head by my parting that stayed for MONTHS until it had caught up with the rest of my hair.

By the way, having re-read this blog, Megatron is coming off in a fairly bad light... let me stress that there were thousands of hair related times that went very well thanks to my Mum. Like the time she got glitter powder for me that I could put in it, that was nice. And the time she painted the bottom bit of my hair bright pink so I could be hip and with it, that was cool too.

If you were a psychologist you may say that the reason I have long hair now is to meet unfulfilled childhood desires. Maybe. Or maybe I just avoid getting the hairs on my noggin snipped because of all the disastrous reasons above.

Both I think.

Love Hannan :)

I'll be yours if you'll be mine...

Wedding days are special and beautiful. They make people love each other, and there are so many flowers and friends there. They are heart felt and real because of all the love happening. I know this to be true because I had a wedding two weeks ago. The Boy married me all lovely and romantic like. And I'ma tell you about it right now.

So sit your sweet peach down on the sofa or the ground and listen with your peepers, because here's the deet's.

The Boy and I had been planning this party for so long we forgot it was a real thing that would actually happen one day, and so when the day arrived it didn't feel quite real. I woke up and my sister, Jessicatty, said "Happy Wedding Day!" and I said "Thank you" and had a shower. I then had some tasty coco pops. Because on your wedding day you can eat anything for breakfast.

I got all ready, a hairdresser did my hair and when I returned, my 'maids were there (bridesmaids, not servants) to help me get excited and ready. It was a lovely sunny day and we had some photos in the garden. Then it was time to get into the VW campervan we had ready for us, me and me ol' Dad, and drive to the church. Our chauffeur was Henry, The Boy's brother and he did a good job (he also got all emotional which made me feel like a bride in the films, where people stop and cry in the streets because she's so beautiful).

I'd planned this whole dramatic entrance of the bride which achieved the desired effect, people were crying left, right and centre! So was The Boy. He had begun to well up as my maids traipsed in all dainty, and then at the grand moment, I walked through the doors, sparkling like a summer snowflake in my dress, all beauty and peace, he really went for it. Lots of tears and that.

It made me feel special though. Anyway, the wedding itself went well, my almost sister in law, Vicki, read a bit of my favourite book (the Bible, not Harry Potter, although it was a toss-up between that reading and the bit in Harrry P where Harry tells Voldemort he'll never know love)

Our friends Gareth and Tara prayed for us which was super special and meant a lot. Super Knomes led the worship with a great band, and our friend Tom read a reading about love. Ahhhhh.

It was quite weird with everyone looking at us all day. I'd be sipping a brew, or talking about having a wedgie, or something else equally private and someone would take a photo from across the way. The hard thing was when you glance around the garden and see someone taking a photo, do you ignore them because they obviously wanted a 'natural' shot, or do you smile at them!? Tricky tricky.

Also, when you're a bride, everyone has to do things for you. Jessicatty had everything I could ever need in her handbag. Perfume, hairspray, hairpins, sellotape, etc. When we got food, I casually mentioned how much I love the crispy bits of dauphinois potatoes and so the waitress scraped the top layer off and gave it to me!

Anyway, the day was incredible. There was a cake (my Mum had made, it was so good), bagpipes (Handle insisted on contributing by playing, despite us and him having zero links to Scotland), a barn dance (do-si-do, strip the willow, swiiiiing your partner), herbs (who doesn't want a free herb!?) and two shiny sparkly rings.

So now I'm a Mrs. I've learnt a new autograph and learnt how to share the bed every single night. I'm learning how to not get cross when the toilet seat is left up and how to take it in turns to watch my programmes. (It goes Gardener's World, Made in Chelsea, Gardener's World, Made in Chelsea...)

Come round for a brew and I'll introduce you to my husband, The Boy.
Love Mrs Hannan The Boy
xxx