Cosmic Ordering

Noel Edmonds cosmically ordered himself a career. 'Hello universe, I'm a rebarbative twat. Please can I have a box-orientated gameshow where I hang out with a total banker'. And lo....

There are websites that offer cosmic ordering but I reckon imiss1985 is just as valid a part of the cosmos as them and therefore for this post only I'm opening the blog as a cosmic ordering conduit. Feel free to order what you desire.

Rio's cosmic order for a boyfriend:

• age unimportant (as long as it falls within the 26-and-a-half to 28 years range)
• height unimportant (as long as over 6)
• education unimportant (as long as he's a post-grad, preferably with a degree in Physics - particularly quantum mechanics. Dig those clever science boys)
• music taste unimportant (as long as he's an indie boy who hates Westlife and Queen and understands that Coldplay are NOT indie and neither are Kaiser Chiefs - but must recognise that Duran Duran are gods)
• appearance unimportant (as long as he's fit, cute and has hair that falls in his eyes and requires flicking out a lot)
• Humour unimportant (as long as he understands the importance of punning at every available opportunity and laughs at this joke uproariously: 'what's brown and sticky?' a stick)
• Other: Must be willing to never live with me or take up too much of my actual time and be happy to take third place after my friends and gin.

Ok, phew. That's done. Just have to sit back and wait for him to be cosmically delivered.

Whilst I'm waiting why don't you pop your cosmic orders on the end and we'll cut down on delivery charges?

Doing it Yourself

In this world there are two sorts of people. The first decorate their house every year and take annual leave from work to achieve a new habitat all based around a leaf motif they saw in Good Housekeeping magazine. Then there's people like me. I buy quite nice houses and then let entropy take over to the point where it becomes a crap hole and I move somewhere else into a home one of the Other Type of people has done up. Simple.

This is not purely down to laziness. It is because I've never felt very confident about decorating so I've always felt it unwise to start with a half decent room and end up with rubble a few short hours afterwards. So I don't decorate. Or at least I didn't until this year. I always took my post-backlash feminism extremely seriously during my marriage and left all DIY type jobs to my ex. Only, sadly, he isn't the Good Housekeeping type either so it never got done.

Today, dear reader, has been a day of new starts. I painted my porch. This is not the simple task it sounds. My porch is huge and was constructed by Heath Robinson in the late 1970s of untoughened glass and putty. Wet rot had allowed holes to develop in the superstructure. It has been thoroughly gnawed by a rabbit.

In the past 12 hours I have toughened the wet rot with Ronseal sealant. I have filled the holes with putty. I have painted all the woodwork. Sadly, I am not an adept DIY-er as I get bored easily: I'd much rather slap putty and paint around than, you know, sand or prepare surfaces. The puttied areas look like one of those Christmas cakes that are iced roughly to resemble a well-skied mogul field. However, there are now no holes in my porch and I'm proud of myself for getting it all done in 12 hours, whilst also teaching my son to play tennis. I'm such a DIY queen that I'm sure Nick Knowles will be around to recruit me to help with his plumbing*. I wish.

So, just how much of an independent Doing it for Myself Amazon am I? Well, there's one thing I ought to admit. Whilst I was in the shower washing off several laminated layers of paint'n'putty the shower curtain frame detached itself from the wall and fell on my head. As I don't own a drill I had to get my ex round to put a new one up. But I told him to buy me a drill for my birthday on behalf of our son. So, maybe come September I will wholly be doing it for myself.



* Yes, I do recognise this was rude and unnecessary. But you don't know just how bad my Nick Knowles obsession is...