The nation has been swept by pink mania and while I did try, vaguely, to resist, it’s pointless! Even though I’ve always been more of a Sindy girl than a Barbie fan, it’s probably now time to see what all the fuss is about ....
• IT’S been one of those weeks where the words ‘you cannot be serious’ were never too far from being muttered. You know the ones. Nothing really terrible happened, thankfully, just loads of little annoying things which, combined, made me a little cranky, and a bit unhinged. It might have had something to do with the humidity too of course.
Anyway, one such incident involved a much-looked-forward-to 20 minutes on the patio with a book. I’ve got a really comfy swing chair that I rarely sit on. It’s not that I’m especially busy or anything, I’m just really bad at sitting down.
Anyway I had decided that last Tuesday was going to be the day that I would turn a blind eye to work, and the jobs and take 20 sneaky minutes with my book (Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano. Not a page turner, but not a bad read either). There was also coffee and cake involved and it was shaping up to be something lovely.
And it would have been too, if I hadn’t sat down just as the tractor pulled into the adjacent field for a spot of slurry spreading. I s*** you not. Obviously, it was low emission slurry spreading, but it still stank. A lot. There were also a few crows who arrived and started circling threateningly. I figured it was the universe telling me to get back to the jobs so I dutifully obliged.
• The following day I had another moment. It happened while I was on an exercise bike during a fitness class.
Now this is not my way of showing off that I’m back in the saddle (but if you want to send messages of congratulations, or free workout gear, even a water bottle, I’ll gladly accept). I spotted someone I knew who was two bikes over, and I gave what I thought was a friendly smile in her direction, only I got nothing back. What’s her problem, I thought to myself? Except it was me! We were in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror so I could clearly see my (slightly sweaty) face which was definitely non-smiling and looked more like that dreaded resting b**** face. Are you all still with me? I nearly fell off the bike with the fright.
It turns out that I’ve been mainly smiling inside my head for my entire life. Shakira sang about the hips not lying, turns out my face has been doing the dirty on me all this time. Now that I think about it, it explains a lot. Anyway, I’m now going around grinning like a total maniac, trying to connect my face with my emotions and make up for lost time. Be patient with me … I’ve a pain in my face from it!
• Then towards the end of the week I realised we were nearly out of milk so I phoned my husband to pick some up as he was on his way home from work. And sure while he was in the shop, I suggested, he might also get some ‘grape juice’, wink, wink, you know yourself.
There were some smaller people in earshot and I didn’t want to reveal myself as a tragic, middle-aged (non-smiling) lush. Shortly after my husband arrived in the door with the requested milk and a carton of grapes. The round, non-squished, semi-solid variety that you eat and do not drink. I considered getting out a bucket and getting stuck in but sure once the initial wave of dismay had passed over me, we actually had a good laugh over it – before my husband went back to the shop. The grapes are still in the fridge. I’ll clearly have to be more specific with my ‘wink winks’ in the future.
• Next up is my version of John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. So you know how we all went a bit sideways during lockdown? One of the more out of character (properly mental) things I did was to buy a pyjamas that cost as much as a family’s weekly grocery shop. It wasn’t my fault. Instagram made me do it. They’re a very regular green and white striped style, and over two years later I’ve yet to wear them. I’m paralysed by the fact that they were so expensive, even if I’ve no idea what I’m saving them for. At this rate I’ll be laid out in them!
Anyway, last Sunday morning I sauntered sleepily into the kitchen only to be greeted by my husband wearing the bottoms. They look so underwhelming they could easily have been a high street unisex pair so to be fair he had no way of knowing of their ‘extra special’ status when he pulled them from the hot press on route to make the morning coffee. My reaction was probably a little over the top, the dog has just about recovered from my roars, so let’s just say he knows now.
Anyway I’ve hidden them now to prevent any future such misunderstandings. Lads, you wouldn’t be able for it!
• What with the jigs and the reels I didn’t make it to see the Barbie film yet, and I’m not sure I will even if the reviews are mainly promising. The mania is sort of passing me by, and to be honest I was always more of a Sindy fan (telling my age now). I remember one Easter when I was around eight or nine and myself and my two sisters each got a Sindy doll. It was a huge deal and we minded them like our lives depended on it. Then something really bad happened that I’m still haunted by. I somehow managed to spill 7Up all over my doll’s hair, and I made the rash decision to grab a nail scissors and cut it all off. I was going for a pixie style, but I ended up with more of a goblin look. I spent the rest of my Sindy years desperately trying to trade her with my older sisters, who naturally had far more sense. I gravitated more towards Care Bears after that and I never felt the same way about 7Up.
• Finally, does anyone know when Brendan O’Connor will be back on weekend radio? I’m a creature of habit and Saturdays and Sundays aren’t the same without him. I should get out more, I know. I’m dying to see Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer, but it’s three hours long and like I said, I’m not great at sitting down for too long.
Barbie it is then – sure any excuse to get dolled up!
