This afternoon I am wondering...

... why I find it so hard to be motivated post lunch?
...whether I own enough beautiful grosgrain ribbon?
...where one can find out about car boot sales?
...whether I'm creative enough?
... and finally, if it is entirely possible to be licked to death by an over zealous kitten cat?

Well I never...

Mr Jones has been to the barbers - theyve rather skillfully given him a number three on top and a number two round the sides and made the bits around his ears and neck all curved and neat.

I don't know whether to be offended or relieved that he has decided to spare me my barbery (or should that be barbaric?) duties? All I can say is - the hair cut I gave him garnered him much more attention.

xoxo

I am alive.....

....just.

I have been a bit quiet for the last couple of days because I was struck down with the dreaded norovirus. I won't go into the details - which were very gory and quite vile. But I will tell you that I - the foodie queen who loves nothing more than eating - haven't had a proper meal since Sunday! (I don't consider a slice of toast on Monday morning a meal and the soup for lunch was probably the start of all the disgustingness!0

Mr Jones has tried to tempt me with various morsels and on Monday went to the supermarket three times in an effort to find some satisfactory form of nourishment - bless him - he's a good boy. BUT - the only things I have managed to keep down in the past three days have been - brace yourselves - Birds Eye Potato Waffles and Calypos! Oh the shame - I am quite disgusted with myself. My freezer now contains potato waffles and an artic roll (I had a brief craving - which I haven't manage to indulge as yet).

The mother-in-law-to-be very kindly brought me a beloved Spanish Omelette yesterday which I ate with gusto willing it to have restorative powers. But it sat, undigested in my poorly stomach for about five hours, before showing it's now very ugly face again when Mr Jones cooked himself some dinner.

Today I am feeling much better. I have had two waffles for breakfast and so far they seem to be sitting nicely. I was going to push the boat out with some beans - but the smell of them cooking put me off. So we shall see - hopefully my palette and stomach can be swiftly re-educated so I can steer clear of the frozen food aisle.

The bonus of the horror that was the last three days is that I have lost 6lbs - whooo hooo. Although even with my desire to be thin, the end certainly did not justify the means.

Naughty but nice....

This weekend Mr Jones and I took a brief trip to Southampton to visit Mr and Mrs Everard and their daughter Sophie.

The diet was abandoned, a HUGE curry scoffed, preceeded by a bottle of wine (memo to self - don't send boys for takeaway - they go to the pub and you have to drink away the hunger), and a good flick through the Boden catalogue - which we've decided is porn for girls. Lovely clothes, great shoes and handbags - then at the back - a plethora of pics of handsome men in well-fitting shorts. What's not to like.

Saturday saw Mrs Everard and I attempt to undo the previous night's damage with a day at the spa. However the advertised "light lunch" rather happily included a butternut squash risotto and creme brulee - which unfortunately negated the hour we spent in the gym.

After an exhausting day of lazing, being massaged and generally putting the world to rights, we returned to find Mr Jones and Mr Everard reclining on the sofa in front of the football. Mr Jones, having received a crash course in "how to be a daddy" from Mr Everard, looked a mite peeky. Their young charge had thoroughly exhausted them and herself and left us to a night of yet more eating.

A lovely time was had by all - although this morning the scales weren't so ecstatic and punishment in the form of an hour in the gym was endured. Oh well - I have seven months left to rid myself of the tummy and arm fat!

Bootcamp - update

I've lost another two pounds (I think - because I've lost the piece of paper I wrote all my weights down on - so if I say two pounds that must be right - right?).

Anyway - I was rather hoping for more than two pounds this week. Especially as Mr Jones had to talk me down off of the "Sod it all - I want a big dirty curry" precipice on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And there were points where I was looking at the cats with something other than affection - but the resolve held and I made do with healthy dinners (all of which have been lovely - just a bit 'fat free').

While typing I am enjoying a flask of homemade thai sweet potato and butternut squash soup - thick and satisfying and just a little bit too spicy - it'll probably keep me going until oooh about 3pm, when I'll treat myself to a pot of fat free organic yogurt! Good god I can hardly wait.

Yours, ever thinner, Mrs Jones-to-be x

Colour you all happy

I am amazed at how happy the world in general seems to be that I have finally chosen "the colours" for the wedding. Perhaps I shouldn't be, given that since getting engaged the first question anyone has asked me is "what are your colours".

It's very strange this obsession with hues, shades and tints - but it seems that it's all anyone can talk to me about. So now at least I have an answer to give you. The colours are mocha and pink (though given our vintage theme there will be a myriad of others in the mix  - but those are the predominant ones).

So go, feel free to shop, and buy your outfits - avoiding anything in Mocha or Pink, unless you want to look like a bridesmaid. You can all sleep easy now, knowing that the decision is finally made. Bless you all for your concern - and I'm very happy to have made you all so very pleased!

A meeting with Miss Pickering

I do love a good flower - especially vintage roses and hydrangeas - and luckily Miss P has far more ideas of what to do with them than I do. Over a small snack (for it could hardly be called a proper lunch - we forwent the pizza - sob!) at the Tobie she came up with many a suggestion and apparently is going to go away and do some sketches, about which I'm rather excited.

So come 21st August expect to see plenty of theses lovely things - far more artfully arranged of course. These two beauties are nestled in a shot glass for want of a better vessel, amid the disarray that is my desk - but they're cheering up my monday.

This weekend was all about....

Lazing in bed and on the sofa with the mogs and Mr Jones making wedding decisions. A good, and relaxing time, was had by all.

Being treated to a beautifully home cooked meal by Mr Jones and washing it down with a few frosty glasses of Montana.

Shopping for, and buying, bridesmaid dresses. Hurrah! My thanks to Mama and the girls for helping me (finally) arrive at a decision.

Weddings and children

It's a contentious issue and one that Mr Jones and I have given a fair bit of thought to.  Our final decision is that while we love all of our friend's children, we just don't think our wedding is the place for them. 

They look pretty in the pictures - but children + boredom = shouting/screaming/crying = inaudible vows - and I for one would like to hear them!

This decision has gone down a storm with the parents - all of whom are relishing a rare night off. Funnily enough its the folk without offspring who seem the most bothered by it. They're all terribly thoughtful and like to make us aware that our friends with kids might be upset. 

But please rest assured that they really aren't bothered and most of them can't wait.

Bridal Bootcamp

I've lost 2lbs! And I'm rather chuffed. Had I not lost 2lbs I should have been rather cross given that last week I went to the gym twice and did two aerobics classes (the second of which was very nearly the last thing I ever did), and had to spend a lot of time telling my stomach that it was perfectly normal not to feel stretched to capacity after every meal.

I am on a mission to lose 7lb by my next dress fitting at the end of March. A doddle if the current fervour for exercise and healthy eating continues. However the lovely Rachel Lamb, designer of the dress, gave a knowing smile when I informed her of my plans to shed many more pounds before August 21st. Apparently many of her brides tell her such tales and rarely do their plans come to fruition. I, however, am determined to prove her wrong (I hope). Watch this space.

Why am I not surprised

Today Mr Jones and I had a date - to stay in bed and do some serious wedding planning. Alas it is not to be. Mr Jones is in bed, nursing a "migraine" and running to the bathroom to be sick every hour or so. Apparently it's a different type of headache to the one he usually gets after drinking three pints of lager, three double G&Ts and a sambuca!

Ahhh the shoes

The ever knowledgable Miss P has pointed me in the direction of Emmy Shoes. They are stunningly lovely and I could create my own bespoke pair. However I think Mr Jones might baulk at me spending £400 on shoes that would probably give me blisters. So we're pondering a while on their beauty and are on the search forthe budget equivalent. (That is until we get sick of looking and give in and buy the ones we actually want). xx

Thankfully he says he'll still marry me....

Mr Jones and I had a slight mis-hap with a pair of hair clippers this week. Well I say Mr and Jones and I - what I really mean is - I had a mis-hap with the hair clippers while they were attached to Mr Jones.

Mr Jones has been sporting a new 'do' for a month or so now - which requires almost fortnightly trips to the barbers for trimming. So in his Christmas stocking he found some hair clippers for DIY hair cuts.

The first trim was scheduled for Wednesday and although nervous I thought - how hard can it be? Well actually it was quite easy. The only thing I must remember next time is to attach the right blade - because a number 1 all over is apparently rather different to a number 3 - whoops! Suffice to say that a trip to the barbers won't be necessary for a while.

After I'd pulled him down from the ceiling Mr Jones saw the funny side and forgave me. If you see him in the next week he'll probably be sporting a rather fetching hat.

xxx

In search of shoes

Although I'd love to be one of those super glamorous girls who can walk miles in heels - I can't, I don't have the patience. So wedding shoes pose a bit of a problem. I'd love some stylish high heels, but the cons far outweigh their gorgeousness:

*Outside wedding = grass

*Groom = only a few inches taller than myself

*Inability to walk = nightmares of stumbling down the aisle a la Carrie Bradshaw on the runway

*Fear of blisters = grumpy face in all the pictures

So I am on the lookout for a pair of beautiful vintage looking peep toe shoes in ivory - perhaps with some sort of brooch style embellishment, with just a small (max 2 inch) heel. If you come across any do let me know.

Another Mrs Jones to be

It seems there is another Mrs Jones To-Be - though hopefully she's not marrying my Mr Jones. I stumbled across her while googling myself - not to be sniffed at. It seems she is an American Mrs Jones to be and is far better at this blogging lark. I feel slightly miffed and have resolved to do a better job in future. Visit Mrs Jones Stateside at http://becomingmrsjones.com/ but do come back and see me.

xx

Jolly bad luck

I consider myself to be a strawberry blonde (I am not ginger!) both physically and metaphorically - in that the blonde streaks in my hair aren't natural and my blonde moments are thankfully outweighed by non-blonde moments. Today however is a very blonde day and I am currently thawing myself out after two hours stranded in Halfords' carpark, having locked my keys in my own car.

There they sat on the passenger seat next to my handbag, rather fetching Cath Kidston purse and my life (read - rather sadly - my blackberry). And there I stood - in the snow, clutching the bottle of oil that I was, very smugly, about to fill up my car with.

A very kind man from Halfords tried to jump to my rescue and spent a good hour in the freezing weather trying to break into my car using every trick he'd picked up during his mis-spent youth. VW security however has come on in leaps and bounds since the good old days and I have to say that had I not been fretting about the fact that I should never get into my car again I would probably be rather impressed with it's fortress like nature.

Talk turned to the smashing of windows. Mr Jones, currently on business in Wales, couldn't be contacted despite my many messages, and I began to kick myself at the lack of spare keys. Then I remembered the AA - I gave them a call and within half an hour my knight in shining fluro jacket arrived. He had my keys out in a jiffy and my car unlocked in seconds. He was indeed a very nice man, a very, very nice man.

The moral of this story? If you have a boy, why go to Halfords to get oil for the car yourself? Send the boy who is surely too clever to lock himself out of the car.