So… August. It’s flown by hasn’t it (do I say that every month? I do, don’t I)?. We may not have had a stream of house guests like we did last year, but we’ve packed a lot in in the last four and a bit weeks.
Please bear in mind that I’ve totally fucked my back so I’m writing this absolutely off my tits on prescription drugs. Any typos or mistakes can be directed to idontcare@gofuckyourself.com. Thanks x
(If you want to read my other monthly updates stretching all the way back to January of 2024, you can find them all here).
I went to Barcelona
After deciding to sell his ticket to a festival where everyone wears black and all the band names are written in unreadable fonts, my boyfriend and I took a long weekend and flew to Barcelona. Our aim was to enjoy the sunshine and do a bit of touristy stuff; namely walking until our feet were in danger of falling off, becoming fully-fledged bus wankers atop the sweaty City Tour double decker, hopping on a boat trip, and (of course) eating our bodyweight in tapas accompanied by some Catalan wine.
Mission accomplished, I reckon.
Of course, no trip would be complete without a little drama, and in true Whinge Whinge Wine fashion, mine came in the form of shin-kicking a would-be phone thief before reclaiming my boyfriend’s mobile. All the warnings about thieves in Barcelona are true – it’s a great place to visit but definitely take a double zipped bag and have your wits about you. And don’t be afraid to use your feet. Consider it my superhero origin story: mild-mannered mum by day, tapas-fuelled vigilante by night.
Anyway, it was a very nice trip, and it seems like a distant memory now that the rain is lashing at the windows and I’m laid up in bed like a pensioner after a bender. Boo.
I found a stray Le Creuset dish in the wild
In my most middle-class confession to date, I absolutely adore and covet expensive cookware. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I mean, LOOK at it:
I can’t afford to buy it, obviously. I’m not royalty. That’s why when I was walking home and I spotted a large Le Creuset pot, lid and all, just sitting there on the verge like someone had carefully placed it out for the bin men, I paused. Most people would probably spot someone else’s used and discarded cookware, walk on and mutter ew. Not me. This matched my egg cups, for god’s sake! It was kismet.
Although laden with shopping, I went back later, scooped it up, and popped it inside a Bag For Life I’d brought along for the heist.
Did I mention it was full?
The contents were unclear. Possibly burned food. Possibly human faeces. Honestly, I wasn’t about to poke around and find out. I tipped the lot into the bin, gagged a bit, and got to work. A hose down in the garden, then straight into the dishwasher on the hottest setting (don’t come for me – it was FREE). Then a bleach bath overnight, followed by another hot wash for good measure. I wish I’d videoed it as it’s exactly the kind of content that’s pushed at me all the time with 76,000 likes. By this point, I’d convinced myself it was basically sanitised enough to perform open heart surgery in.
My biggest concern: Who on earth just abandons a £305 bit of kitchen kit by the side of the road? Most people put out old scrap metal or old toys. Someone along my road apparently looked at a top-of-the-range Le Creuset and thought: ‘Nah, not for me’. Who are these people?!
Anyway, it’s now living in my kitchen, looking smug on the hob. And every time I use it, I try very hard not to think about where it’s been or what it’s seen.
I visited Windsor
Despite being an official home-owning resident of the Royal Borough, until last week I’d never set foot in Windsor; primarily on account of having to go through Slough to get to it. However I can now confirm that it’s a lovely place for a day trip, especially if it happens to be sunny and particularly when you’ve just come off antibiotics and can have a wine or two.
My friend Mat played both tour guide and official photographer.
Still annoyed I came home without this beauty though.
I watched K-Pop Demon Hunters more times than any person should have to
The kids became absolutely obsessed, which meant it was on a constant loop in the background throughout August and I’m waking up hearing Golden in my sleep.
I did some wallpapering
I’d been putting it off for ages, partly because I couldn’t be arsed to move the furniture and partly because I was convinced it would end in tears, glue in my hair, and a wall that looked like it had been dressed by a drunk toddler.
But, against all odds, I actually managed to do it on my own with no glaringly awful bits and no rolls of wallpaper binned in a rage. Which just goes to show, if I can wallpaper a room solo, it really can’t be that difficult. Either that or I’ve accidentally unlocked a new life skill I never asked for.
We had a family holiday in Weymouth
After the success of our trip to Haven Sands, Perranporth a year ago, in August we also braved the Great British Holiday Experience™; eight people and a dog crammed into a Haven caravan that smelt like it had seen things no caravan should ever see. I had to beg not once, not twice, but four separate times for bedding for the kids, which really added to the luxurious ambience.
The weather, naturally, got the memo too.
Rain. So much rain. Because what’s a British seaside break without huddling inside, socks steaming gently on the radiator, while the dog stinks up the place like a wet towel in a PE bag?
I bunked with my nephew, who fell out of bed so often that when I did manage to sleep, I dreamt of him falling out of bed on loop. Meanwhile, my own bed was apparently designed by someone who hated spines, because I came home walking like I’d just completed a three-day hike up Ben Nevis rather than a relaxing caravan stay and now I can’t bloody move at all.
Still, Weymouth worked its usual charm in between the downpours; sandy toes, fish and chips, a trip to Monkey World and even the odd glimpse of blue skies.
There’s something oddly bonding about surviving a caravan holiday together. They call it character-building. I call it ‘next time, we’re booking a hotel.’
I upset some right wing thickos
It’s been an embarrassing month to be British. Flags nonces, the Gammonati, Deform voters, sex offenders, Union Jackoffs, Daily Mail readers, the Nigel Farage Fanclub, Nazis, life’s winners; whatever your pet name for them; they’re currently out in force, vandalising mini roundabouts, zebra crossings and even war memorials with red paint.
I know this is true because I saw one myself.
You can read the comments of the Facebook post below, or you can refer to this entire blog post which I wrote on the subject.
Yea, this section kind of spiralled.
Other things I wrote this month:
If you enjoyed this and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a cup of tea or a glass of wine – or donate to my houseplant addiction fund – here.
You can also see my Amazon wish list here.