Plebs, Pregnancy and Car Boots.


You know you’re having a good day when you’ve literally had to hang up the phone, simply because the ‘other end’ of it hasn’t managed to deliver a conversation, or a story quick enough to hold my attention. That’s how ‘Diva’ i’m being today and yes, even though it’s appalling, a lot of my friends, well more the ones that reside in Hollywood…know this about me. I can’t bare loonnnng winded stories of ‘um-um-ah-ah’ that aren’t getting to the point. I have a short concentration span. I like short, happy, or dramatic bursts of news. So, if you’re failing to hit the bullet points to your story and your rambling on aimlessly without valid reason….you will lose me in an instant. I hung up. They knew why…so didn’t bother calling back. 🙂

Anyway! Hope you’re having a wonderful Sunday. To those of you who woke up refreshed well done. For those of you who woke up recovering from a drug addiction…not so well done. It’s Sunday for crying out loud. Anyway waking up or still partying at this time from the evening before is the shambles.

The first thing I did this morning, aside form check my Twitter…check my Facebook and ‘put my eyes in,’ was play in Ruby’s pretend restaurant, drinking imaginary cups of tea with her and simply because it made her smile. 🙂 She loves it! Yet unfortunately she has hit her TERRIBLE TWOS, meaning when she doesn’t get her own way she goes bananas at you. I’m sure the ‘terrible twos’ are hideous anyway, yet let me tell you, when you’re 6 months pregnant and feeling the utter pain of it, without help…the ‘terrible twos’ is soul destroying. All evening and all morning, mixed in with blips of obedience she was INSANELY naughty. It was devastating. I need a nanny, yet simply to care for ME and not for the glitzy fruit of my loins. I have no idea how women manage to have loads of children so close together and survive it. They don’t do they? Hence why there needs to be a gap between the birthing. It will certainly be a very LOOOOOOOOOOOONG time before i get hit by the preggo stick again. Plus, I don’t think Keiran actually quite gets how i’m feeling in this lovely trimester of third. He doesn’t at all understand the pressure or physical pain of it…which obviously i find annoying. I don’t want to hear, ‘tickle my back…why haven’t you done the washing,…i don’t get what’s the matter with you?’ Men never really get it do they and because they don’t have to go through it. Yeah they might joke that what they have to put up with is just the same. Yet HARDLY. Times that by 72 and then you will only begin to get it.

Doncaster was good yesterday. I was very glam, very preggo, very exhausted, but content because I managed to spend the day with Baby Ruby, which is priceless to me. (People always ask me why i’m more picky about allocating my time out to friends, or parties, or going out etc… and well it’s sometimes because i can’t be arsed 🙂 and mostly because i’d rather spend it with my daughter. She needs me. I’m not selfish. Having a drink with an acquaintance won’t kill me if it never happened. Having no Ruby in my life…probably would.) I’m a good mum and because i have a good mum.

But yeah, i found myself playing ‘Hook a Duck,’ with her, buying flowers from market stands and dancing through the cobbled streets. It was lovely and simply made the day perfect. I felt lucky. Then she got grumpy and my bump managed to exhaust me. She started being naughty and I began perching on anything (including merry-go-arounds for £1 a go) that would have my pretty preggo bum bum sit upon it. There was a line and i pushed it. I had never felt so exhausted in my life. I walked and shopped and lunched for hours. Met a few fans. Read a few Tweets. Did a lot of work for the new Social Media company. (Thank you for all my new followers. It’s doing better than I expected!)

I got home and then realized i had left the keys inside the house and well Keiran had gone around to Phil and Kelly’s to look over accounts, food and drinking. He drove home and let me in and i finally felt super comfy. Laid in bed all night, after working my arse off. I had a lot to finish off online for the companies i’m working with, so I pretty much got to it and then passed out in a slum of utter utter exhaustion.

Then when I woke, i spent the morning running around after Rubes, in my giant preggo state, with coffee because the hubby had decided to go to a carboot sale to sell our old goods to new folk. He got home around midnight,or just before and then woke up at 4.30am to leave in the van. He’s only just got back now.

Now, i’m not a car boot kinda girl. I’m a luxury girl. I’m not a festival girl. I’m a 5* hotel girl. That’s me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t mind buying things for a dirt cheap, bargain price. We all enjoy that especially when they’re worth so much more. Yet, i’m not one to really want to go to one, set up shop at one, or even underline it as a ‘shopping’ day. 🙂 But he loved it and because he got to sell all our old things off and made £100. (It’s bizarre how you can sell things that you have accumulated that has cost over hundreds and hundreds of pounds and simply palm it off for a 50p here and a wink-wink-nudge there. It feels odd. That stuff cost loads. I think i’d rather have given it away to charity, then sell it for lunch money…which was what we were initially going to do.) However, you have to always look on the positive side, at least he’s happy and well at least we managed to get rid of unnecessary clutter in the house. I like that bit. (I won’t tell him that the baby walker he sold for about  £5, my friend just said she wanted to buy for £40 today. 🙂 That’s nearly half of his takings for almost everything he sold.)

I’m currently blogging in bed and still have quite a lot of work to get through. The business is going well, entertainment in smearing over swimmingly, yet i’m finding the preggoness very very difficult.

I’m loving all your support and all your messages! The adoring ones from the boys, (you all have great taste in women,) the question’s from the girls (i’m happy and here to help) and the basic pats on the back for being a genius from the masses. 🙂 (They’re my favourite.)

However, yesterday a few plebs kept trying to report my blog on Facebook for being ‘inappropriate.’ I’ve decided for you that reading it and loving it works better for you. Just because you either despise me a little or see the word ‘threesome’ in the title, doesn’t make documenting my life wrong. Maybe it was the word  ‘Geisha,’ or even the combination of the two. 🙂 However, for all those who fought The Wunna cause on it…THANK YOU. Yet you do not need to worry, as @wazza and I are very much used to being banned, reported and blocked by the less opened minded heads of the world…and we always always get around it and away with it. 🙂 So you can keep ‘click-click-clicking’ and simply because we can do it faster. *wiggle-wink*

Love you all and hope you have an amazing Sunday with the people you love.


Big magical kisses,

C x





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