Does what it says on the tin

There was a really interesting article in the Guardian on Saturday by a guy named Neil Boorman, who had decided to ditch his obsession with brands by corralling his branded possessions in the middle of the street and burning them.

Slightly at the extreme end, I agree, but made me think, nonetheless. My immediate reaction was 'of course, I don't use any brands anyway, I'm too clever for all that marketing schtick', but when I actually sat down and thought about it, probably a good 75% of my things are branded...even if it's only Tesco rather than Versace. Most of the rest are things acquired from charity shops, inherited from relatives or generally found in a skip somewhere. It's remarkably hard to buy new stuff without branding, when you come to think about it.

I'm a bit of a flirt with brands - and to be honest that's mostly affected by (a) price and (b) what's on buy one get one free or special offer at the supermarket/clothes shop/wherever. There's a few exceptions foodwise:

• according to my other half, there are no substitutes for Branston pickle, Ribena or Kellogg's cornflakes
• I can't get by without Marmite or Lavazza in a morning

but for most of the time I'm happy to shop about. Not sure if that makes me a marketer's dream - I'll look at anything as long as the price is right - or a disloyal nightmare.

Listmania

It's supposed to give you an insight into my psyche or something (and not a lot else happened today, apart from M and I making gingerbread men and bears), so here, for your edification, is some stuff.

• playing: A Hawk and a Hacksaw (various)
• reading: The People's Act of Love by James Meek
• cooking: Falling Cloudberries: A World of Family Recipes by Tessa Kiros
• watching: BBCFour's Edwardian season
• wearing: Daisy Collar dress by Once upon a Time for Top Shop (in my dreams, when I have £48 spare...)
• driving: a Micralite

House porn

Otherwise known as Grand Designs. Actually, the alternative is probably porn starring Hugh Laurie, which is just too weird to think about right now.

Aaaanywaaay, I've just sat on the (sadly, IKEA) sofa thinking how it all makes suburbia look a little, well, dull. I love Victorian/Edwardian terraces, but a girl can lust after some modernist clean lines and glass, after all (even though the window cleaning bill would be monstrous). Although I'm not sure I could cope with living in the gorgeous art deco house they covered this week without a complete furniture transplant. Sadly, the aforesaid IKEA couch (at least five years old, wearing its second set of badly-fitting covers) really wouldn't cut the mustard. Neither would the raft of plastic sticklebricks currently floating around the living room floor, or the day-glo plastic mini-kitchen currently being used to produce pancakes (small raisin packets are flipped on a regular basis in our household). But hey, it's home. And I like it.

Lambs, daffodils, you get the picture?

Oh, spring has sprung, tra la laaaaaaa. Yes, it's been officially sunny for three days up here in the frozen north, so I think we can safely say it's spring. Yay! Lots more time outdoors (what do we have a balcony for, if not for swigging gin and tonics on?), and fewer cardigans. No bad thing, in my book. (Check out the link, and you'll see the most embarrassed male model ever, who is having to wear some delightful zip-up versions.)

Anyway, as you can tell, not much happening here today. A brief excursion into the delights of Newcastle to have M's feet measured (thankfully, the cute green boots still fit) and to purchase silly pink spotty sunglasses (thank you Primark for making my day when my small child stuck sunglasses on her head and said "coooool"). And that was about it. Bar a bit of meandering about outside on the balcony, drinking tea, tidying up and watering the plants. Oh, and making some fish chowder (sounds better than it actually tasted, although given that I've got the umpteenth cold of the year, most things are like cardboard at the moment). So not exactly high-flying, but rather satisfying none the less.

But don't worry, pop-pickers. I'm sure the obscure cultural adventures and terrible film reviews will continue in due course. I'm off to find an Easter egg...

Smug

I like that word. And the way it feels. Especially when you think you can legitimately have a quiet bit of smugness for five or six minutes. I reckon that today I've cracked it, given that I've

• made cheese, leek and potato pies for tea
• done 8 months-worth of filing which had been hiding under the bed (why on earth do I have SO MANY PIECES OF PAPER???)
• finally got round to dyeing my hair blonde again (boy, those roots were bad)
• and read 'Hippos Go Berserk' and 'Dear Zoo' about 97 times (can you tell we're on an animal-fixation at the moment?)

Mind, I haven't managed to clean the kitchen floor, but you can't have everything. And anyway, that's just too frighteningly domestic, and making pie is Nigella-ish enough for one day.

Lego of it

This made me laugh a lot. Although, I reckon it must be a boy thing, this lego stuff. M forced me to play with the duplo today, and I was really bored after about five minutes. Mind, once you've stacked the dinosaurs on the top of a lorry 600 times in a row, it rather loses its appeal. We have a rather bizarre collection of duplo (hence the dinosaur) - a mixture of European farm stuff (my cousins live in the Netherlands), a set of cavemen, some dinosaurs, and a search and rescue boat/helicopter/aeroplane set up. Makes for some interesting scenarios...

It's Love, Actually

I have fallen in love.

Now, don't get your hopes up. I realise this could possibly be considered an overly dramatic way to open a blog post, but trust me, the more drama the better. Particularly when you realise that I'm talking about falling in love with a hand cream... Sad, I know, when that's the highlight of the year so far, but us suburbanites have to take what they can get.

So, in a bid to big up the dramatic tension, let's cue the romantic music, bring on some soft focus and shag pile carpets (that sounds a bit 1970s, but it's probably 'retro' or 'ironic' at the moment, and therefore very cool indeed), and introduce the product of the moment:



ta da! Banana hand cream. Who would have thought it? But it (a) smells gorgeous and (b) works a treat on knackered hands like what I have got. Even if wearing the lovely cotton gloves provided with it did remind R of his Nanna. Which is probably not de rigueur at bedtime.