Le freak...

It was a most trying day yesterday.  Not only did my newly straightened hair have to contend with keeping out of the rain (hat/umbrella/handbag/lever-arch file depending on which part of the day you caught me) I also had to try and make my blog look more 'user friendly'.

A friend of son number 1, Master H, has offered to help me build my blog in a more professional manner, thus attracting big names to advertise on it. (Looking at my blog, I would imagine that Tena Lady, Damart, Spanx and Schmackos would be the first to throw their hats in that particular ring, all eager to jump on the bandwagon of the middle aged, crazy dog lady with a penchant for industrial knickers).

However, when Master H told me that it had to be 'user friendly', I did wonder what exactly that meant?  I have always felt that my blog with its garish orange background, and slightly overlarge facebook link was just fine.  It's slightly shabby (a bit like me), a little bit amateur (a lot like me) and quite easy to look at (you can be the judge of that one..) 

But apparently, this isn't what the advertisers want.  They prefer slick websites, which are aesthetically pleasing.  In other words, my website needed a complete make over.  The blog itself was fine (that was a relief - at least my writing got a gold star, instead of the 'Could've tried harder' which the website got) but it had to be wrapped up and presented better.  Do people really notice these things?  I must say that whenever I go on to Next's website, I never look at it and think that I would be more likely to buy a dress if the model was prettier and they were using Calibri as a typeface. Perhaps us normal people (yes, you too) aren't that shallow.

So this is why my blog has been going through temporary facelifts over the last twenty four hours.  I have never been frightened of computers, always believing that I can look up a fix from some nerdy type if need be.  This would explain why I lost my facebook link for three hours yesterday, the type face turned to something very Gothic, then disappeared altogether (that was a terrifying three minutes of my life), and the background was a picture of jelly beans. 

But I think I have it sussed now.  Publishing my blog tomorrow is the equivalent of handing in my homework to the teacher which nobody likes (no offence Master H).  If I haven't got at least a B+, I'll be in detention, trying harder...

Changing the subject though, the husband went to work wearing for the first time my favourite t-shirt. This is not mine as such (that would be silly) but the wording on the front always cheers me up.  It screams out in large italic letters 'I'm married to a freakin' awesome wife!'

As he crawled through the front door last night after a particularly trying day, with the two dogs hitching a ride on him between the hall and the kitchen, I asked him whether he'd had any comments about the t-shirt.

The husband shook his head, dislodging Reg who was doing a passable impression of a hat.

'What, nothing at all?' I asked.

'Nope, not a word'.

I was really surprised, as working with a load of burly builders like he does, you would have thought that the banter would be flowing.

Further interrogation revealed that he'd not taken his jumper off all day as it was so cold, which is why no one had commented on the t-shirt and its factual declaration.

You would think that being married to me, he would have been willing to brave the cold to tell the world (well, Abingdon) what an amazing wife he had?

Obviously not...