I've been friends with Karen, like forever... We met at nursery school when we were both 3 years old and we've been best of friends ever since. That's 42 fun-filled years! Crikey. On the French Exchange with school. [basically we lived with a French family for a week then they came over here and lived with us … Continue reading Celebrating real people #keepingitreal – meets Karen
So as with most good things they come and go far too quickly for my liking. I had been looking forward to my weekend in Marbella with the ladies for what seemed like forever and it was over in a flash ... just like that ! So how did we spend our last day? Having … Continue reading The end … Marbella Diaries
Hola, Somebody once said that "the best therapy is time spent laughing with great friends" I've just had 4 days 'therapy' and it's done me the world of good. By golly have we laughed... and then some. We've partied (a lot) and for want of a better word I'm back home and I'm bloody knackered. … Continue reading Marbella Diary Day 1 – the villa and first night out.
So it's almost here... Yes Marbella which I've been whittering on about for the past few months is finally happening next week! Eekkk. *does a little happy dance* As if you didn't realise I'm blinking excited. Below is the villa we've rented. That sunbed is whispering "Tracey jump on " The pool is whispering " jump … Continue reading Marbs … the final countdown!
A girl called Ingrid. So as your reading this you'll no doubt think 1 of 2 things - I'm a raisin short of a fruitcake or ... I'm a raisin short of a fruitcake!! While I was excitedly relating the nights events to my mum earlier today I was even thinking to myself I sound … Continue reading In a past life I was …
I made it. Hungover and tired but I'm here in the not so sunny Lanzarote. I've so far had to buy a jumper! Yes a woolly blinking poncho style jumper. It's never been off my back , the wind is soooo chilly. Mr Sun is being awfully shy and has only popped out for a few hours; … Continue reading Memories of Lanzarote. Part One