Just in case any of you were worried that my recent silence is a sign that the ghost which switches our TV on and knocks over our posters had taken more drastic action against Terry and I, I’m here to report that all is well. And, I mean, it’s not like there’s been any other spooky occurrences to suggest there’s a ghost in the house, maybe in the region of the front door, say:
(Um, please excuse the quality and shakiness of this video – I filmed it on my phone, late at night. I was also probably drunk.)
Seriously, he stood like this, staring intently at absolutely nothing, repeatedly that night. And no, there was nothing outside (that was visible to the human eye) and no mysterious sounds (that our human ears could pick up), so the question remains: WHAT DOES HE SEE? Is it dead people? And are they likely to try to posses us any time soon, I wonder?
Actually, there’s a small part of me right now that’s secretly wishing there WAS a ghost in the house, or that I could become possessed by a demon or something (Note: Not really. That’s not an invitation, o spirits of the netherworld! Begone from this house!). It would at least break the monotony, and give me something to write about here, wouldn’t it? Because here’s the thing, not that you particularly care: I haven’t bee quite lately because of ghostly presences in our home, but just because there is absolutely nothing to see here, folks, move along please. I have, of course, been continuing to blog elsewhere, because that’s what pays the bills, but actually, I think that’s part of the problem: I write about fashion at The Fashion Police, about shoes at Shoeperwoman and (occasionally) about makeup at Hey, Dollface! and it doesn’t really leave much left over to write about here.
Of course, this blog has always been that most awkward of genres: the personal journal. It’s supposed to just be about my life. But really, all that’s been happening in my life right now is that I write about fashion, shoes and makeup, and… that’s it. So things may be quiet around here for a while. Or, then again, they may not, because normally what happens is that I promise I won’t be blogging much, and then I suddenly discover that I have so! much! to! say! and you’re stuck with even MORE of me, instead.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
This afternoon, we decided to jump in the car and take Rubin for a long walk in the countryside just outside town. We actually thought we were being pretty clever here (Yeah, I know: famous last words…), because the thing is, our house is surrounded by woodland. And Rubin’s fur is like velcro. So, basically, every time we walk him during Autumn/Winter (so from September – May, really), he comes home looking a bit like an Ent, with entire trees tangled up in his fur, and, well, it’s not much fun for any of us, really.
“I know!” said Terry this afternoon. “We’ll take him on a different walk, far, far from the wicked trees! Then the worst we’ll have to worry about will be a bit of mud!”
Or, you know, a LOT of mud. Like, OMGTHATISALOTOFMUD. And also quite a lot of trees, to be honest, because it’s not like there are NO TREES in the countryside, is it?
Trees. In the countryside. WHO KNEW?
Rubin really enjoyed his walk, though. Terry and I? Not so much, to be honest. Not once we got him home, anyway, and had to spend the best part of an hour bathing him, then cleaning the bath, cleaning the floors, scraping mud off the walls, ceiling, and all of the other places Rubin managed to shake it. And did Rubin care?
Well, what do YOU think?
Oh yeah, I also managed to capture a UFO, out there on that lonely road:
Or possibly a scary ghost, which has been following me around, ever since it ransacked my kitchen (who, me, exaggerate?) and switched on my TV the other night? At first I thought it was just the reflection of the sun or moon in a puddle, but this photo is actually a duplicate of the one above Rubin, and as you can see, there’s no water there. Definitely a ghost, then. That, or my iPhone case creating weird effects again. My money’s on “ghost”, though.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
So, after yesterday’s incident, in which Terry left the front door open all night, prompting the police to pay us a visit in the early hours of the morning, I resorted to desperate measures to make sure the same thing couldn’t happen with the BACK DOOR:
What? A bit of an over-reaction, you think? Trust me, this particular event has been in the post for a loooong time now. A looong time. It was just… unfortunate… that it had to happen on the very day the doors in our house were already under a black cloud. And hey, isn’t it funny that we left the front door wide open, and then made sure it was totally impossible to get out of the back one? And by “funny”, I mean, “GAH, I’m going back to bed now. With wine.” Who knew doors would one day declare themselves The Enemy?
That’s how Terry came to spend all of Friday afternoon procuring, and then fitting, new locks and handles for both of our doors. It took a while. And it was FREEZING. Now our house is like Fort Knox, though: or, at least, it will be, assuming we actually remember to LOCK THE DAMN DOORS, FFS.
I don’t think he’ll be making THAT mistake again in a hurry, somehow.
We tried to rescue the day with a nice, relaxing evening, but right before we went to bed we let Rubin out, and he came back in like this:
I refer not to the OMGDEMONEYES, but to the mud on his face, paws and undercarriage. We don’t know what happened out there in the garden. We honestly don’t WANT to know. But it did mean that at 1am in the morning, we found ourselves facing a “Dog in the Bath” situation:
And that concluded our Friday the 13th. We’re not really looking forward to the next one…
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
In other news (which will be totally repeated news if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter: sorry!), yesterday morning we woke up to this:
Well, actually we woke up in the middle of the night, to Rubin barking hysterically in order to alert us that the the house was falling down. It wasn’t, thankfully, but it really did sound like it for a while. This is the fourth time we’ve lost our fence in the past few weeks – I’d blame the fence, but everyone else’s was more or less the same. (And normally it just blows down: this time it snapped right out of the steel fence posts, thanks to our neighbour’s bin being thrown at it by the high winds.) We got off lightly, though: there was some pretty major damage around town/the country in general, and I from what I’ve heard, at least two people were killed, so we were lucky: fences can always be fixed…
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Wow, ever since I realised I have nothing to post about here any more, I’ve been posting a LOT, huh? I bet you’re all thinking, “God, I hope Amber’s going somewhere without Internet access for Christmas, because that’s probably the only thing that will shut her up now…”
Well, I AM heading to my parents’ place for Christmas (they DO have Internet access, of course, but I promise not to abuse it), so this is my official “Goodbye, farewell, have a Happy Christmas!” message. To help me spread tidings of comfort and joy, here is a photo of Rubin in a holiday sweater:
Don’t worry, he only had to wear it for long enough to get the photo. And he was almost hysterically excited by it, for some reason. Maybe he secretly wishes he was a personal style blogger?
Or, you know, maybe not.
(He’s been bathed and groomed since this was taken, by the way. Winter is a hard time for him – and by “him” I mean “us” – because every time he goes outside, he returns looking like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Sometimes I think he probably HAS…)
Here is what he’s getting for Christmas, and seriously, you guys, DON’T TELL HIM:
It was labelled “Sam the Dog”, so it will be one of the few toys Rubin owns which has a REAL name, and isn’t called something like “Ponky” or “Bluddy” or whatever. I cannot WAIT to see his face when he opens this on Christmas day. He’ll either be SUPER DUPER EXCITED by it, or he’ll completely ignore it in favour of ripping the wrapping paper it came in to shreds. Maybe both, actually.
Anyway, that’s more than enough from me for now: I hope you all have a very happy holiday, and that you, too, get something as exciting as a SAMTHEDOG under your tree!
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
I know it’s not actually Halloween until tomorrow, but my mum just emailed me this photo of Rubin (he stayed with my parents’ last night while we were out partying: we’re heading off to pick him up soon!), and it was too good not to share:
Hope everyone’s having a great weekend!
p.s. One more…
OMGSCARY!
(Note: Rubin wore this mask for approximately 2 seconds each time. No bichons were harmed in the making of these photos.)
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Um, you DID vote, didn’t you? Because, if you didn’t, Rubin has created this “thank you” photo for nothing, and that will make him MAD. You won’t like him when he’s mad, trust me. You should be pretty scared, in fact. If you didn’t vote, just pretend you didn’t see it.
If you did vote: thank you! From me, Terry AND Rubin.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
Every Monday, Terry and I have dinner with my in-laws, and we normally take Rubin along with us. Last Monday was no exception, and, as it turned out, my brother-in-law and nephew were there when we arrived, and my sister-in-law turned up a bit later with our niece, so everyone was talking and laughing, and Terry and I lost track of time slightly.
As it turned, out, however, time wasn’t the ONLY thing we lost track of.
As we stood up to leave, we heard the sound of an ice-cream van pulling into the street. Terry is pretty much addicted to ice-cream, so we quickly gathered our things, said our goodbyes, and I got into the car while he ran across the street to buy himself some ice cream.
Unfortunately, most of the kids in the street had the same idea, so there was a line. Terry joined it, and I pulled out my phone so I could pass the time checking my email and Twitter, and basically messing around on the Internet. I’d been doing this for a few minutes, when I glanced up and saw my mother-in-law come out of the house, her arms waving as she tried to get my attention. She seemed to be trying to tell me that I’d left something in the house. Hmmm.
Now, me leaving something would not be AT ALL out of the ordinary. I leave things. It’s what I do. As soon as I get home after a visit to my own parents, the first thing I do is to check my email to find out what I’ve left behind THIS time. When we get home from Terry’s mum’s, meanwhile, we’ll regularly get a phone call a few minutes later, to say that Amber has left her coat/bag/phone/wallet/giant messy bun head/brain there. I’ve been doing this kind of thing my whole life long. When I was in school, for instance, the bell would ring, signalling the end of classes for the day, and I would often just stand up and walk out, leaving my bag, coat and EVERYTHING ELSE I OWNED behind me.
This time, though, I was sure I was good. I was wearing my jacket, my handbag was on my knee, my phone was in my hand. I wracked my brain, trying to think what I could possibly have left behind. I mean, the only other thing we’d had with us when we arrived was…
“THE DOG!” shouted my mother-in-law. “You’ve forgotten the dog!”
And we had.
We had got up, put on our coats, and just walked out, leaving Rubin behind. Oh. My. God.
Just to set your minds at rest, Rubin was totally unperturbed by this. I mean, he’s stayed with my in-laws lots of times when Terry and I have been on holiday, and he sees them every week, so he feels totally at home there. He also tends to eat much better there than he ever does at our house, which is probably why, rather than following us to the door, he simply remained where he was, hoping that, sooner or later, one of the people present would drop a morsel of food on the floor and he would be able to swoop in and get it. So he was fine.
Even so, though, people, even so: WE FORGOT WE HAD OUR DOG WITH US.
And this, my friends, is why Terry and I have never tried our hands at parenting.
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
OK, then, DON’T bring it. I’ll just bring ME to IT instead. If the lettis won’t come to the Rubinman, why, the Rubinman must go to the lettis. LETTTIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I pray to the Mighty Lettis God. What do you ask of your humble servant, oh Lettis God?
OMG LETTIS FROM HEAVEN! Prayers WURKED!
COME to Rubin…
HA.
Lettis is mine. Now it will do my bidding. Like… I will make lettis levitate!
Styupid lettis.
[Photos by Terry. Thanks, Terry!]
(Amber’s note: Rubin likes lettuce. And almost all vegetables, to be honest. And also all other forms of food. And sometimes things that aren’t actually food. Like that spider he ate that one time. But lettuce! Is not harmful to dogs, as long as they’re not eating too much of it, which he isn’t. Spiders, on the other hand…)
Hi, I'm Amber. I'm a full-time fashion/shoe blogger from the UK, and this is the story of my life, my clothes, and the International Man of Mystery Next Door. You can read more from me at my other blogs, The Fashion Police and Shoeperwoman.
