tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14926773095553231412024-09-10T07:25:04.265-07:00K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-79969230094402369582011-04-24T17:41:00.000-07:002011-04-24T17:42:22.067-07:00

...I've neglected you, and I am sorry. I've been busy getting married, and while all that was going on, I didn't take the time out to let you know what I've been up to. I'm pleased to say that life has been pretty awesome - our wedding, which took place on Friday, was the most amazing day of our lives. The weather was kind to us and we unexpectedly had the venue for exclusive use - I felt a

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-77869913169078843872011-02-09T05:03:00.000-08:002011-02-09T05:03:49.822-08:00

Shopping. It is a past time that divides people into those who see it as a treat and those who regard it as a chore. Without doubt, I fall into the former category, and find it possible to dedicate entire days to the sport. Fiance, however, is a member of the latter persuasion and stubbornly refuses to be dragged out of it, despite my attempts to convince him otherwise. It takes all my powers

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-71377648736863541702011-01-27T13:51:00.000-08:002011-01-28T09:07:25.347-08:00

When I was growing up, our family had a succession of pets - rabbits and guinea pigs to be precise. By far and away, none touched our hearts like our last rabbit did, a beautiful black bunny with the sweetest temperament and the surprising, but adorable, name of Piglet. Piglet was the runt of the litter, and probably because she was squashed in the womb (according to the vet) she grew up with a

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-69088027360048761582011-01-26T11:09:00.000-08:002011-01-26T11:10:34.741-08:00

It's been a while since I've written about The Wedding, and given that it is approaching quite rapidly - less than three months to go - things that have been put off until now are suddenly in need of our prompt attention. Wedding fever, as a friend put it, has started to take hold. I have just reached the end of two very wedding focused days, and I feel practically brain dead as a result. My

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-22175378542922607412011-01-21T13:25:00.000-08:002011-01-21T13:35:23.581-08:00

Last night, I took over cooking duty from Fiance who had just started to make burgers for our dinner - he does an awful lot of cooking, and my turn to create something fabulous was well overdue. I sent him back to the TV, where a football match that I have absolutely no interest in was being shown, and set to work continuing the burger making process. I should probably point out that I had

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-82861834904201561222011-01-18T13:23:00.000-08:002011-01-18T13:23:28.360-08:00

If you've read through previous posts, then you'll probably have noticed that Fiance and I love food and eating out. A year or so ago, we'd gotten home from work, had a couple of drinks and decided to head out for a spontaneous meal. Within half an hour, we were in a taxi on the way to our local Loch Fyne - which, for anyone who hasn't come across it, is a chain of seafood restaurants throughout

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-47877668755467795892011-01-13T13:40:00.000-08:002011-01-14T04:35:48.335-08:00

Firstly, let me wish you a very Happy (albeit belated) New Year. I hadn't intended to have such a long break in between posts, but thanks to a string of events ranging from festive drunkivity to catching a dose of the flu, I found myself unblogging for an extended period. Fortunately, after some time spent sobering up, returning to work and battling a nasty winter bug or three, my brain is

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-63555557030571590272010-12-23T09:10:00.000-08:002010-12-23T09:10:47.553-08:00

Only time for a short post tonight - we're off out in a bit to commence the second day of festive celebrations (whilst still very much feeling the effects of the first day's revelries). I shall very much be relying on hair of the dog to get me through the whole experience. Anyway, as this is the last post before Christmas day, it seems only fitting to use it to wish you one of these: Hope you

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-38979950066094671962010-12-21T13:55:00.000-08:002010-12-21T13:55:47.832-08:00

Thanks to the weather based distractions that have been bestowed upon us lately, it's taken a while for the Christmas spirit to make its presence known, to me at least. Whilst I was starting to wonder if it had abandoned its effort thanks to the treacherous travelling conditions, it finally completed its journey last week, thanks in no small part to the drunken event that was the work Christmas

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-76723218962931972172010-12-20T12:40:00.000-08:002010-12-20T12:40:11.478-08:00

I had written about two-thirds of today's post, when I noticed I was staring uselessly into space on an increasingly frequent basis, each time snapping back into reality and noting that I had still not managed to type the words so essential to updating a blog. I took an executive decision to postpone the post until tomorrow, so that I can stare into space without feeling guilty that I should be

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-56158833558794943512010-12-16T16:06:00.000-08:002010-12-16T16:06:02.160-08:00

Like most women I know, I love shoes. Shoes are the ultimate accessory and can make or break any outfit. This is why I have so many pairs (and Fiance will confirm that I am talking about a pile of shoes that could probably challenge Everest's claim to being the tallest mountain) - for every outfit I compose, I have at least two sets of footwear that are capable of bringing the outfit together,

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-15601218376752430892010-12-13T13:38:00.000-08:002010-12-13T13:38:12.037-08:00

I got a bit carried away this afternoon with my drawing tablet and GIMP (which, in case you were worrying about following the link, is a free alternative to the extortionately priced Photoshop) and ended up spending none of my time creating visuals to accompany the story that I intended to post today. Instead, I did this: It was basically an excuse to work my way through all the tools in the

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-16769992736616517422010-12-09T14:32:00.000-08:002010-12-09T14:33:26.666-08:00

I love to drink tea. In fact, the only thing I like drinking more than tea is alcohol, and I have found this gets me exceptionally drunk if I try to consume it as frequently as I do a good strong cuppa. No-one bats an eyelid at me quaffing bucketloads of tea at 8 in the morning, not to mention that it is good for me, and can help me through the most trying of situations. There are certain times

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-27380479460712389662010-12-06T14:15:00.000-08:002010-12-06T14:16:31.806-08:00

Well, I actually haven't written anything to post today - mainly because I was enjoying a day of doing absolutely nothing, other than a little pottering around the house. It was lovely, but not particularly productive for blogging. So because I don't want to break my Monday/Thursday routine, here is a little something I spent yesterday working on, made by special request for my sister. 

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-63461900355493339262010-12-02T13:15:00.000-08:002010-12-02T13:15:29.574-08:00

I believe I have proof that Winter is reading my blog. In my last post, I mentioned that our region hadn’t been hit particularly badly by the snow storms at the weekend. Since then, our region has become the victim of a relentless snowfall that has persisted on falling and turning everything whiter than it should be. On Tuesday, using the car to get to work was quickly identified as a sketchy

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-74508699970273515022010-11-29T14:19:00.000-08:002010-11-29T14:19:55.570-08:00

If you read it, you'll know that my last post was a day early because I was about to embark on a fun filled weekend, complete with posh dinner at a fine dining establishment in Nottingham. I was very excited. Sadly, things didn’t exactly go according to plan, with the first problem making itself abundantly clear when we woke on Saturday morning to this sight: Damn weather. It’s like Winter

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-4335574927668028872010-11-24T15:03:00.000-08:002010-11-24T15:19:35.502-08:00

Up until a few years ago, I did a job that entailed writing lots of letters to lots of people about things far too boring to divulge here. It was far from a stimulating role, but it did bring one advantage that I did not appreciate at the time – I always knew what date it was thanks to the number of times I had to type it out on any chosen day. I was able to respond with confidence when someone

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-359262432660362752010-11-22T14:39:00.000-08:002010-11-22T14:42:45.973-08:00

At 29 years old, I am convinced that there is a monster living under my bed. Its name is the Nark Monster, and its purpose is to direct my mood towards distinctly grumpy when I wake up in the morning. I suspect it does this by waiting until I am obliviously asleep before swapping the signs which indicate the best side to get out of bed on any given morning.  Once the Nark Monster has

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-11266586161464875362010-11-18T15:27:00.000-08:002010-11-18T15:27:48.062-08:00

Standing short at 5ft 3 and ¾ (which I round up to 5ft 4, obviously), I am not exactly the tiniest person in the world, but I do frequently find myself living below the natural eye line of friends and family. This includes my ‘little’ sister, as measured by age, who quickly becomes my ‘big’ sister when measured by height. This is disappointing to me. It was not always this way though. I have

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-38128755007603946842010-11-15T11:50:00.000-08:002010-11-15T11:50:47.898-08:00

Let me be honest – I am probably one of the least fit people I know. I am not a member of a gym, I do not go swimming unless I am on holiday and I do not have a penchant for jogging. In fact, my exercise is pretty much limited to an energetic burst of dancing at the Christmas party, and lugging my wares around for hours on end during lengthy shopping trips.  Oh, and sometimes I pop out a few

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-1022360818693203722010-11-13T08:07:00.000-08:002010-11-13T08:08:27.899-08:00

As any readers of my last post will know, I got a little carried away when I went to the supermarket sans Fiance last week, and ended up bringing home a veritable cow’s worth of beef – some to roast, the rest to accompany the roast leftovers in a pie of significant size. Wednesday night was pie night, which meant two things. The first was that I would have to face my pastry demons and attempt

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-31637863823941487032010-11-11T15:04:00.000-08:002010-11-11T15:04:34.368-08:00

So I accidentally fell asleep on the couch and only woke up about half an hour ago, annoyed that I had slept through stuff I wanted to watch but more importantly, all too aware that I hadn't yet finished the post I started writing some five hours ago. Despite my best efforts, I found that waking in a haze of oh God, please let me sleep some more was not the most helpful mindset with which to

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-41428441862626760182010-11-08T15:11:00.000-08:002010-11-08T15:26:49.790-08:00

I volunteered to do a solo ‘big shop’ at the local supermarket yesterday, after a (partially) unexpected late wake up time made it impossible to shop and get back in time for the start of the football, a task which Fiance had previously requested we attempt to achieve. Given how infrequently he gets to watch his team on TV, and how excited he'd been when telling me about the game's scheduled

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-31717298779450934722010-11-04T16:24:00.000-07:002010-11-04T16:30:30.853-07:00

As a species, I believe we are split into two firm categories – those who love summer, and those who love winter. I fall squarely into the former group, mainly out of a hatred for the nasties that winter brings. This is for a number of experience-based reasons. For starters, getting soaked is something that should only happen by choice: It is not a pleasant experience to be made dripping

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1492677309555323141.post-50866193632943459372010-11-01T10:58:00.000-07:002010-11-01T11:03:03.927-07:00

It will probably not have passed you by that it was Halloween yesterday – the time of year when children dress up and run around the street begging their neighbours for sweets before racing home and crashing out as the effects of the sugar rush begin to fade away. Or do they? I’m damned if I can tell based on our experiences over the last three years.  Having lived in a flat with Fiance

K Montagnehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16134137888336850534noreply@blogger.com0