Lovenests's Blog

Domestic bliss in the nests

I have an adorable snapshot of Gaywood life to share.

Currently Lindsey is wafting in and out of the kitchen, hair tied back with a scarf, bringing clouds of flour in with her every time. She is listening to the radio and pre-heating the oven in preperation for….. raising some yeast! By the end of the day we will be feasting on delicious home made bread, awful oven and freezing kitchen willing.

Sadly we didn’t quite get it together in jam making season so instead this bread will be enjoyed with soup, butter or the jam Lindsey’s Mum kindly sent us.

More Lovenests news to follow regarding an exciting and lovable addition to our living room! Watch this space 🙂

~ S


No strictly Lovenest related but I need to rant

Having lost my phone, I just had the most ridiculous conversation with the man at Orange:

Me: So, can you tell me if it was used to call after I lost it Thursday night?
Man: Yeah, the last call was made at 3:10
Me: Is there…many calls? Many calls on Friday?
Man: Ummmm…yes.
Me: Are they international?
Man: …I don’t know how you’d tell that.
Me: Well do they begin +44? +44 is the England area code.
Man: It doesn’t look like it, no.
Me: Well can you tell me the numbers called?
Man: Nah, because of data protection
Me: It’s my account! It’s on my account!
Man: Yeah but someone sitting near me could hear, and they could know the number. It know its a long shot but…
Me: Could you email me the numbers?
Man: No, because…
Me: Well I guess I’ll just find out when I get my bill. It’ll be a…massive…surprise. Lovely.

Stupid proper criminals. Saddest of all, probably, is that they ignored my calls and the voice mails from people asking them to call me and give my phone back.



Despite my erratic forays into the world of environmental activism groups, we don’t have much political debate here in the Lovenest. Last night whilst watching the news we both admitted that we couldn’t have spotted Nick Clegg in a line up, although he did look exactly as we would have both imagined. Neither of us knew who the deputy Prime Minister was. But one thing has got us excited about politics: The Anger of Gordon Brown. We love everything about it, from the shots on ITV news of him looking like he was about to claw someone’s face off to the constant stream of tabloid revelations. Even the incessant nodding of that snitch Christine Pratt. *nodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnodnod*

Obviously, obviously, bullying is never a laughing matter. It’s just the though of Gordon Brown ROARRRRRRRRRRARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH-ing like Wolverine at every aide who has to bring him some bad news. And let’s think how much bad news he will have had in the last 3 years. Floundering and mild mannered Gordon Brown has, according to the ITV political correspondent with fear in his eyes, been renowned for his foul temper for a very long time. Each of these revelations was met with glee:

Gordon Brown pushing a man aside and swearing at him: *shove* BASTARD!

Gordon Brown receiving news data has been lost: *grabs unfortunate minister by the collar, wild eyed, somewhere between a shriek and a mutter* THEY’RE OUT TO GET ME!

The Downing Street IT man turning up to Gordons empty office to find a smoking computer screen with the keyboard sticking out of it.

I can see why they think this is the end of his political career. However, we both agree that if every nice-man stunt by Cameron was followed by a live broadcast of Browns reactant rage, it would make him a lot more popular. The act isn’t working, so why not drop it? Frankly they have nothing to lose by trying.



Sadly you can’t all be with us tonight, we don’t share pancake with non-residents of Gaywood. To make up for this, I will be scribing the main events of the evening. Enjoy!

“I’d be terrified of those stairs in those heels”

“Ohhhh Peter Kay…”(sad face)

“Baby was my favourite”…”It’s Geri”…”She needs to get her own look”

“Was that a joke?”

“Oh Kasabian, don’t do the Oasis beckoning thing”….”I’m going to start doing that, everytime I walk into the bedroom”

“Bloody JLS!”

“JLS will win”…”Haha!” (JLS win) “Oh……”

*open mouthed Gaga awe*

“Wow” (Relating to Lady Gaga, who was fucking awesome)

“Yeah, you’d better mute….”

“Don’t mention McQueen again”

“Was that a joke?”

“How do I spell Jonathan?”…….”He’s probably spelling it J-Ro”

“Ooooooooh! Alicia Keyes!”

“Ohh Jonathan Ross again” (angry face)

“Don’t compare her with the scissor sisters, she doesn’t need that at this stage of her career”

“NO WAY DID CHERYLL COLE JUST LEAP!  That’s got to be like a…robot Cheryl Cole”

“Imagine if she broke down and cried, that’d be awesome”

“Nooooooooooo….on Twitter? What an idiot!” (Not exactly Brits related)

“aaaar Juuuuur”

“I didn’t know anyone liked JLS! Which one’s he?”………..”Marvin, definitely Marvin” (anyone know the other names?)


“Look at that one (of JLS) on the end!”….”What, Alan Carr?”

“He’s on the edge”

“Robbie is doing a jig on the edge”

“I just wanna feeeeeeeel real love…”

“Does an aaaaaangel, contemplate my faaaaate”

In conclusion, Gaywood are closet Robbie fans, who’dathunk it? We are living in fear that he may top himself tonight, he’s a man on the edge. Hopefully someone who loves him (and who doesn’t?) will keep an eye out.

On a cheerier note, yey Brits, hope those of you cool enough to watch enjoyed it! I’m well regretting not videoing Lindsey watching J-Ro, next year I’ll be better prepared.


Obligatory pancake blog

Lindsey’s pancake day rule is that nothing but pancakes can be eaten for dinner, and any topping other than lemon and sugar is an abomination.

Our top pancaking tips:

When buying ingredients, check how much flour you have so that you aren’t left with 3 full bags of plain flour in the cupboard.

Never buy 10 eggs, it only invites gorging temptation

It’s not enough to be able to flip pancakes. You have to do it over and over until they fall on the floor.

Remove smoke alarm before starting – just not worth it.

~ L & S

Getting a man in.

On Wednesday night, something weird happened to our pipes.

Mrs-next-door suggested we get a plumber in and I was quite looking forward to the adventure. I’d like to claim this was because the domesticity of it all appealed to me, I would finally be able to join the team of women all over the country complaining about how late their plumber was, or how smelly or whatever else we complain about. Mostly though, and if I’m honest entirely, it was because of porn.

I would never suggest the readers of this blog were anything less then genteel, but it is possible a handful of you will have come across some pornographic media in the last few years. You may even have seen a film centred on the topic of plumbing and all the sexiness surrounding that noble profession. Just in case, the general scene is this:

Wealthy housewife answers the door in a silky negligee, stockings and suspenders. Seems surprised to find plumber standing there- as we women know, they are always late. Housewife becomes all coy and slutty, plumber is greased up and suggestive. Cue dialogue: “I hear you’ve a hole that needs filling” “Oooh, that’s an impressive tool you have there” etc. 2 minutes and lots of puns and giggles later, everyone’s fornicating on top of the sink. No pipes get seen to yet miraculously the taps start working half way through, to rinse off our heroes. A jolly good time is had by all.

I had everything I needed, Howard the plumber sounded young and not northern (I’ve learnt about regional accents the hard way), I own appropriate nightwear, and my boyfriend seems the forgiving type, so perhaps if I’d manned up and also mastered the art of acting coy and slutty simultaneously, this morning would have been far more romantic. As it is, I’m going to shatter all illusions. I’m so sorry people, but plumbing is not sexy.

I met him at the door fully dressed, (he was early! EARLY!!) and grumpy as I’d only been awake for 2 minutes. He stood in the backyard for a while pondering, then fetched Mr-next-door (henceforth known as Peter) to come and have a look. We discover that Peter unclogs the drain running from both our flats on a regular basis, and also that he doesn’t pick up the dog mess in his back yard. Peter and Howard then went about unclogging this drain while I stood a few metres back to be safe. Despite this precaution, the things I saw… well this is a ladylike blog so I’ll keep the horror to myself. Suffice to say, Peter will be getting a big alcoholic gift from me one day.

The hole in our drain has not been blocked as it’s a good indicator that the drain needs doing apparently. Howard will be coming back one day to sort out the entire drainage system, and suggests we stay away from the house while he does this.

At no point during the above events did Howard bring out any form of tool which could be commented upon for size. I stayed securely on my own two feet. The only time I was asked to use my hands was to run taps, or flush toilets. Howard even had the cheek to keep his scruffy jumper on for the whole event, wedding ring too.

I’m thinking for my next venture a carpenter may be more satisfying, so for the remainder of the day I will be checking the woodwork throughout the house for weak spots. Suggestive lines involving the word “wood” are welcomed and encouraged.

~ S

Never been North

It wasn’t an especially urban or sophisticated weekend, which is a shame because a series entitled “The Urban and Sophisticated Girl’s Guide To…” is surely a money spinner.

Have you ever heard of someone travelling the whole world, but never getting past Oxford when it comes to England? Someone assuming that Manchester, Liverpool and Newcastle are all in pretty much the same place on the map? That would be a person who desperately needs educating. That would be my friend Pip. Having lived, learned and worked in various parts of the North East for the past 5 years (almost. Goodness, we probably need to move on) I felt pretty equipped to cover the main bases. These are:

The people. I don’t like to treat guests as guests, really, so quite often they get dragged along when I have chores to do. But it just so happens that one of the best introductions to an area is an encounter with elderly charity shop workers brusquely advising you on which curtains to buy. Not only does it give a crash course in interpreting the accent – which apparently went from unintelligible to just about understandable in a couple of minutes – but it also nicely shows the North/South divide in interacting with strangers. What comes across to a Southerner as angry and interfering is actually just being happy to help. Important to get that established early in the trip.

The sights. The North wasn’t really doing itself any favours by being rainy and grey, but I think I showed off everything beautiful and impressive in Newcastle-Gateshead. The Angel of the North, The Quayside, The Baltic, a burger shop on Bigg Market at 3am on a Saturday night. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Tick.

The cuisine. Half the reason Pip came to see us was because she’d heard of a “chicken pizza” that they have up here. The Parmo* is local to Middlesbrough, but with some detective work we managed to track down the one burger shop in town (or “toon”) that sold one. I don’t think anyone has ever been so excited to see a flattened chicken floating in melted cheese.

With a little bit of rowdy dancing and a few shot-in-a-tube bottles from the off-licence, the whole weekend was a success. Pip now definitely hearts the North-East, and on Sunday the sun even came out. Next stop: Scotland. Maybe.


*I can’t believe wikipedia has such a comprehensive entry for the parmo! Seriously, it covers everything. This is my favourite fact: “The Parmo was the subject of a question in the TV quiz show Eggheads on 13 November 2009. In the final round, when asked the region from which the Parmo originates, the challenging team incorrectly  answered East Anglia, in preference to North Wales and the correct answer Teesside. The incorrect answer given meant that the Eggheads won that particular day’s contest. Ironically for the show, Teesside was misspelled ‘Teeside’.”

The house that love baked

Delicious? Check. Pun potential? Check. Opportunity for us to show off our cooking skills? Check. I think we may have a new project….

~ L

Snow news is no news

Quick! Blog before it all melts!

Snow is not good for wannabe gardeners…

Or for George in the front garden…

But it can make an excellent burglar deterrent.

~ L

The urban, sophisticated girl’s guide to panic buying

As Sam says, we know panic buying is ridic, the snow won’t last forever and there is absolutely nothing to worry about… but what if the idiots take everything? When one is freezing in ones flat, and the corner shop shelves are bare, what are you going to want to be eating? Dry cereals? Cuppa soup? Cereal bars? Not in this lovenest.

The key to panic buying is to go left field – whilst everyone else is hunting for tins of soup, you want to be casually scooping armfuls of plentiful products into your basket. Therefore we shall be panic buying the ingredients for:

  • Risotto – Easy, no one is going to be panic buying risotto rice. Stock up on that, frozen peas, white wine and vegetable stock cubes for panic relieving comfort food.
  • Tomato soup – This one we’ll have to be quick on because once the soup cans are gone, the tinned tomatoes will be what everyone turns to. Passata though, that’s a different matter. No one thinks of passata. Panic buy anything tomato tasting but liquidy, onions, chilli flakes and garlic. We’ll have already a accumulated a tower of stock cubes from the risotto run so we’ll just sit back and enjoy the double warmth from the pan and the chilli.
  • Stew – Carrots, potatoes, swede, onions. They should all last ages in a kitchen as icy as ours.
  • Vodka – Because no one knows how to deal with the cold like the Russians.

And then there are the things we’ll be elbowing Geordies in the face to grab. Bread, pasta, butter, pasta bake sauce, eggs, cheese. Baked beans with tiny sausages in. Pringles.

As well as this I’ve developed a few cold contingency plans for the flat:

  • Put fleecey blankets around back door.
  • Keep spare duvet in living room in case of sudden cold.
  • In extreme cold emergency, combine duvets and blankets to one bed. Spoon.

~ L