Harmony Constant

I don't think this will really get it out of my system, but here it is anyway:

29 OCTOBER!!  SOMEWHERE IN MANCHESTER!!!  ROBERT MICHAEL NESMITH!!!!  AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I found out the news via Milton Keynes' finest export first thing this morning.  Normally I'm a miserable old sod of a morning.  I don't do conversation, I don't do eye contact and I certainly cannot smile before at least my second coffee.  But this morning was different.  The overcast drizzly British summertime morning seemed bright and breezy.  A song filled my heart, my eyes brightened, the smile on my face spread from ear to ear. 

Needless to say, the first thing I did when I arrived in work was book the time off.  It's happening.  It's finally happening.  Me.  Nesmith.  Same airspace.  In the words of Dusty Springfield - I just don't know what to do with myself.  I'm so excited it's beyond ridiculous.  I'm already trying to decide what to wear and realising that I might just be at my target size by October and I don't know how well I can cope with the dual excitement of Nesmith AND skinniness...

I need to link my excitement over the forthcoming Nesmith gig to a recant of my adventures at the weekend.  And I can't do that in a particularly smooth manner.  So... er... I won't.

I went to see Westlife on Saturday with my pal Sue.  She's a huge fan and was so upset that they'd announced they were splitting up before she'd had chance to see them live in concert that she thought 'to hell with it' and ordered two tickets, she didn't care where they were.  They weren't together, but they were on the same row - and I, in an unselfish act of kindness *removes tongue from cheek*, agreed to go with her to save her husband the trauma of spending the evening in a room with 16,000 screaming women.  Which is understandable.

They were actually very good.  Of course, I've liked them since they won the Smash Hits! Pollwinners Best New Act as Westside in 1998, and I used to be absolutely mad about them until around about their third album when I just became far too 60s for anything modern at all.  It also sort of coincided with the time they started to be marketed as a sort of Housewives' Choice act and, well, I'm not a housewife so I suppose I'm not the target audience any more.  I went to see them on their first arena tour back in 1999 (I think), when they were just another boy band as the boy band trend was dying out - and 90% of the audience was made up of 13 year old girls, and they were pretty good then, but naturally, over the years they've just gone from strength to strength and are genuinely a very good live act.  Vocally they're all absolutely spot on and their crowd interaction was brilliant. 

Everyone had a good night.  It was pretty emotional for them, it was their last gig as a group in Manchester.  I suppose it must be a bit weird if you've been doing the same job since you were 18/19 and then you get to 32 and decide it's time for a change - this tour is sort of them working their notice period.  Must be really bizarre for them. 

They did, however, at one point do a cover of 'Don't Cha' by The Pussycat Dolls.  I think the phrase "least said, soonest mended" would apply here.  I don't think the reaction they were after was hysterical laughter, and I'm not proud of myself for it, but it was hilarious in all the wrong ways.  Just... no.  Really.  Just.  No.  Someone will have put it on YouTube by now, and I'd recommend you take a look just for the comedy factor.  Which I have a feeling wasn't quite intentional.

All in all, though, it was a great night, they did very well.  It's strange that it's all over.  It's like they were the last of the great boy bands of the 90s (anyone who is of the mindset 'there were no great boy bands of the 90s' is simply wrong - the 90s were the decade of the boy band, it's like saying there were no great beat groups of the 60s!!).  There's quite a large chapter of my teenage years that's been closed by their breakup.  I'm not sad or upset or anything, it's just a bit sort of... strange.  Still.  Onwards and upwards.  They'll probably get back together for a reunion tour in five years anyway!!

I have no news on the weight loss front.  I'm pretty much back on it now - I discovered yesterday that I'm drinking far too much diet coke and it's made me a bit poorly, so I've quit that.  Herbal teas and water all the way it is, then.  Serves me right, of course.  If I'd only been sensible in my eating and drinking habits in the first place I wouldn't be in this situation now.  Still, if I didn't need to lose weight, I wouldn't have started this blog and what would you have to while 10-15 minutes of your day away with?!  Exactly.  You're welcome!!

Join me again on Wednesday when I might've calmed down slightly from the Most Awesome News Ever In My Life.  But don't count on it...!

The Blog Entry With No Name

It's all right, I didn't kill myself on Sunday as envisaged.  I hit the 29 mark, I survived, I made it through, I'm going to continue with living for a little while longer.  After all, I've lost three stone, it'd be a shame to waste it.  I'll just have to be old and deal with it like normal people. 

To combat the ageing blues, I've started a new (not 'new', exactly, more 'revisited' as I've loved this actor for years anyway) and more than likely short-lived cinematic obsession, it'll probably only last a few weeks.  I can't even remember how many Stewart Granger films I've watched over the last three days.  At least six.  I've had a jolly good time doing it, too!!  Did you know - and I certainly didn't, but I love him even more now I do know - his real name is James Stewart, but he had to change his name (he chose a mixture of his surname and his mum's maiden name) to stop him being mixed up with... well... James Stewart, aka my absolute favourite actor of all time!  I mean, there is a resemblence, I suppose, they're both tall and a bit gormless-looking!!  Good ol' Granger - he's like the David Bowie of cinema, but without heterochromia!!  Scaramouche.  Get it watched.  It's a classic. 

I went to a party on Friday night and I wore a dress that I bought from a high street shop.  That's right.  I walked into Dorothy Perkins.  I saw a red dress (it's a constant source of disappointment to my Dad that, although I've been raised a true Evertonian, I love wearing red!).  I thought "Oooh, that's pretty!"  I saw it was very reasonably priced.  I bought it.  I tried it on.  IT.  FITTED.  PERFECTLY.  Seriously.  It's such an achievement I really can't describe how chuffed I was.  I might've still looked a mess, but at least I know that I can buy nice clothes on the high street now.  I still have a long way to go, I know I do - but it was such a great feeling to go out in public wearing clothing that wasn't from the plus-size range!!

However, having said all that - I've decided to have a week off the diet.  Not a going mad and turning into Miss Pacman type week off, but just a week off.  It all started on Saturday.  My lovely friend Clayre-Louyse and her husband, Adam, have moved near me.  This is brilliant.  Clayre and I have been friends for about eight years but we've always lived miles and miles away from each other - now she lives a ten minute walk away!!  Hooraaayyy!!  Anyway, I'd been in work all morning, then gone grocery shopping straight from work and by the time I got to Clayre's at half three, I hadn't eaten anything.  I brought her a packet of biscuits (they always help with unpacking), really nice chocolatey ones, and she offered me one with my brew.  Normally I'd've said no and been strong, but I hadn't eaten anything all day and I hadn't had a biscuit all year, so I accepted.  I instantly thought "Gah, that's it now..." and decided to have a day off.  In fact, I had a monumental day off.  I went to the pub with my sister, had burger and chips and a pint of beer, followed by a chocolate ice-cream sundae, which had huge chunks of brownies in - and the brownies were still warm!!  Oh my goodness!  It was indescribably incredible!!

I really haven't had a huge day off like that yet, so I didn't feel too bad.  But bank holidays are funny things, and I haven't been able to reign it back in as normal.  I've not been spectacularly naughty, I've just not been nearly so strict with myself.  So I'm not going to weigh-in tomorrow.  A week off won't kill me.  I'm still going to get there eventually.  It feels like I've taken a bit of pressure off myself, which has to be a good thing.  I'll get back on it properly and with a vengeance in the next day or so, I promise.  I'm even strongly toying with the idea of joining a gym.  Yes, you read that right.  A gym.  Cross-trainers, rowing machines, all that type of thing.  A real live gym!

For those of you who are huge fans of the llamas - fear not!  They will be out in fine style on Friday anyway, dancing away like things possessed, as I will be dedicating Friday's blog to a review of Nathan's album, which I received on Saturday morning.  I'll tell you all about it then!!