Crying Gets You Everywhere...

Crying. So many songs have been written about it, be it Big Girls Don't Cry or I'll Do My Crying in the Rain. Today the theme was "Don't Cry For Me, UAE Embassy". I had to go to London this morning to get some work documents stamped by the aforesaid Embassy and had done all my research to make sure there would be no hiccups as I landed at 09.25 and had to fly home at 17.00 - a whistle stop trip if ever there was one.

I planed, trained and taxied to the Embassy with my parcel of documents and trusty bank draft to cover the ridiculously high fees they were charging and went it. So far, so good. Until the nice man behind the counter told me that the draft was £40 too much. What's the problem sez I? We can't take it, sez he, toddle off back to Dublin and get a new one like a good girl. Eh, I don't think so pet. I've got to have these blasted papers sent off by Fedex this afternoon and no excuses or I'll be in for a right tongue-lashing when I get back to the office.

I begged, I pleaded, I tried to reason with them, but the Embassy was not for turning.

Eventually I went for the last resort - floods of sobbing, mascara running, pink-eyed tears and not just for effect, these yokes had to be sorted or I was in line for a P45. Them some auld cow (to quote Mammy Dearest) presented her big ugly jobsworth mug at the desk and hissed at me that she could not alter the procedure and that was that. Her accounts were so precious that they couldn't cope with an overpayment as it would send the whole house of cards tumbling down. Bitch. After a few minutes, one of the nice ladies slipped me a post-it with an address - the main Embassy around the corner and told me to get over there. So I trudged up the street, another Kleenex clutched in my hand and snotting for Ireland and rang the bell. God love the poor man who got to talk to me because I was incoherent. A few minutes passed and I hiccuped out my sorry tale - he told me to have a nice sit down and leave it with him. The receptionist, god love her, kept coming over to me with tissues - I was half expecting a Mammy hug, she was so sympathetic. So I sat, and I calmed down enough to stick the tissues back in my bag... then I realised I'd no makeup with me to repair the flood damage! The nice man came back to me, told me Jim (aka him) had fixed it and to go back to the Auld Cow who promised to play nice this time.

So, back to the other office, where the nice people were still lovely and the Auld Cow was nowhere to be seen. I was told to return at 2.30 and they'd have everything ready for me. There was nothing to be done but take a walk down to Harrods to persuade a nice makeup lady to repaint my ravaged face. Big love to Leah at the Bobbi Brown counter who put a hex on the Auld Cow for me and turned me back into a human. After all that drama, I richly deserved the glass of wine with my lunch!!!

On the way home from the airport, I called into see Little Sis and Lulu who I hadn't visited in ages. Lulu was transfixed when I explained where I was today - she kept repeating it to her Mum - Mammy, Auntie Peefa was in a car, on a plane, on a train, in a taxi, in more taxis, on a train, on a plane and then in her car to see me!!! Funny how it's all about you when you're nearly 4

My Funny Valentine

Valentines Day in our house is always a bit unfocused on "us", mainly because my Mammy and Hub's Mammy both celebrate their birthdays on 14th February. Also, Hubs tends to be working on any night that Feb 14th falls, so I'm used to the "reduced" bunch of gorgeous M&S flowers that he brings home a day or two after the event. In fact, I much prefer them as florists etc. really know how to take the piss the second week of Feb - €100 for a bunch of roses that will be dead in 10 days? I think not. And anyway. we're married so it technically we shouldn't care.

My latest "pov shop tip" is to buy your flowers in Aldi. A paltry €4 secured me two bunches (5 stems) of lilies which are only opening up 5 days after purchase. The smell in my kitchen is feckin' gorgeous and there's at least another week of life in these babies. That's how you should save the economy while not compromising on the nice things in life!

Speaking of economy, we had an early Valentines night this evening - tomorrow will be full of goons, gimps and mouth breathers availing of the "special menu for two with a bottle of house wine and a rose for the lady". The very phrase makes me do a little sick in my mouth... how would they cope with a male couple for their dining experience - who gets the rose??? We walked down to the local Chinese for some nice (but overpriced as there's no early bird on a Friday) menu and then over to the newest pub in the town for a few drinks. Sadly, there was no cocktail list for me to work my way through, but I did have fun explaining Britvic 55 to the Ukrainian bar staff!!!!

Tomorrow night will comprise a feast of culinary excellence including bruschetta, lots of home-cooked striploin and an EU mountain of chocolate desserts, supplemented by enough alcohol of the fizzy kind to give you a raging hangover.

Happy birthday Mum!