Bon Voyage Incisive

‘The best leaving party ever’

Claire Dickinson, Conference Manager, Incisive Media

Yes it was a sad affair departing Incisive Media, however, I made up for it with ample amounts of Jager through straws (Caroline’s fault), dancing fresh shapes and drinking Whiskey Sours by the bucket until I fell in a crumpled pile on the floor of the Commune that evening.

Two Jager, Three Jager, Four Jager, there were more....

Having spent four (majority of the time) glorious years at Incisive it was a sad farewell, however when needs must, and a cranky boss to boot, pastures anew waited ahead. It was also a great opportunity to have an awesome night out with all my favourite work folks. No longer will I be a constant voyeur over mini cheddar challenges, games of ‘never have I ever’, and pranks on TJ but now just a passing commentator.

MC Gibbons & C. Dicko

I leave with memories of that British Insurance Awards that was to epic too recall, Lene shouting a Degsy, everyone getting off with everyone and inappropriate movements in the night! Me falling over and breaking body parts after every Broker Awards. Karaoke nights on tap and discovering that me and Claire should be an R’n’B rap act.....the fun times are endless.

Alas I still have ‘Don’t Fuck With My Dinner Club’, and none better excuse to go drinking than to go drinking with splendid old work buddies. Thank you all for some fabulous years.

Hxx


www.helliegibbons.com

Absent Blogger

I haven't written an iota for 4 months now. With a quiet weekend ahead expect a torrent of updates and photos to bore you silly.


Love Love
Hellie G

Snap shot of another awesome N1H party

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Engagement Tea Party you say? Why yes please...

Yummy food shot numero uno

It is with great pride that I share these photos with you all, albeit I cannot take all credit. There was a congregation in Watford this sunny Saturday past to celebrate the engagement of the Reidy-Ho’s (Ho-Reidy, Ho’Reidy, ReiHo.)

To the amazement of what would seem everyone I arrived at Watford Junction at 9am on Saturday morning in order to kick off the preparations. I was met by Claire (future Mrs HoBag) and Loraine (Lola) who both had hoped I had missed my alarm that morning, but alas I was there and worst of all for them, I was chipper! A visit to the florist followed and a last minute dash to pick up ice for our Pims.

Then the cake extravaganza began, we made the following:

VICTORIA SPONGE   |   CHOCOLATE & BERRY CHEESECAKE  |   LEMON MERINGUE PIE   |   CUP CAKES WITH PINK ICING  |   CUP CAKES WITH WHITE ICING   |    CHOCOLATE & NUT TYPE DELICACIES

Enticing food shot plus teapot and floral arrangements

Along with these we divided up the flowers we bought (supplemented by the lovely nature found in Claire & Darren’s garden) to create little pots of wild flora delight, which then decorated the house. Some carefully placed candles and a whole array of Indian snacks and we were ready to kick off the party.

This picture makes me smile inside my belly.

Pimms, tea and champagne galore, plus I don’t think I have ever eaten so much cake in my life. I also thought it would be near impossible to have so many Irish mummies in one place at one time as compared to one of my family parties, but Claire’s family turned up en-force. It was lovely to have so many people who were insistent on complimenting Lola and myself on our culinary skills, we of course did not let this go to our heads…much.

Toasts followed, with lots of cheering and speculation on the still undecided surname. But, never the less an extremely happy duo drank the night away with all their friends, family and one quite excited bridesmaid, who wish them all the luck and love in the world.

www.helliegibbons.com

Another Dinner Club update...

http://dontfuckwithmydinnerclub.blogspot.com/2011/03/dont-fk-with-me-coz-im-actually-mexican.html

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A weekend of revelations

I have had a weekend of revelation after revelation; here they are in no order of my astonishment. Warning this is mainly about myself… therefore perhaps one of my revelations should be that I have never fully realised my egotistical nature before.

I really cannot drink white wine. My body is a honed red wine carafe why would I taint this by moving to the lighter side for just one evening? Why indeed – follow one of my epic 36 hour hangovers.

 

I actually can wear jeans, and pull off a ‘casual’ style, without looking like too much of an old wanabe skater. Although new converse needed as feet today are a definite indication of shoes too small. Anyway I wore jeans for the first time in about 18 months, not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing though as my skirt/dress repertoire is pretty outstanding.

 

This Jessie J character is not a lyrical genius like all this music journalists are making her out to be. You try living with a house mate who audibly sings her own version of the lyrics on repeat, not only are you scratching your ears out but your vocal chords too because it’s bloody well catching. (I hate you Fiona/Pringle)

I have a gambling addiction. OK it’s only to ebay, but this say’s it’s true: http://www.gamblingask.com/gambling/1877-gambling.html. But I am sure none of this will matter when my beautiful new raspberry tea dress comes through the door, vintage amore xx

First solo valentines in 4 years…eeek. Feedback in a week to see if I’m drowning in tears or a liberal feminist rant.



 

Actually started writing my ever first business proposal, the revelation of this being, it’s WAY more complicated than I had ever thought. I can’t just write...

 
Dear Mr. Banker,

Please give me lots of money to make my beautifully pretty vintage emporium. It will be a smashing success so I can pay you all your money back as quickly as possible for as little interest as possible.

Pop along for a slice of cake and some new slacks some time.

Love love
Hellie G

It totally doesn’t work like that. I will be knocking on Sophie’s Aunts door for some much needed advice.

 

Jersey Shore is funny, even without intoxicating mood enhancing substances. As is 'Married to Rock.' The Human Caterpillar is not funny, vomit.

The Trailer Park Boy’s live is far too much anticipation.

Surprisingly good reception to the idea of having a Gypsy Wedding party, plenty of offers filling the grabber role. Roll on some sunshine so we can add wheels to the summer house for some caravan chic.

I am extremely surprised at myself for note absolutely freaking out and my approaching ‘lack of job—ness.’
I know I made the decision to leave, I know that I cannot make my mind up about what I want to do, nor commit to one job offer, but what I do know is that I love pretty dresses and my cute house and have impending holiday and festival tickets to pay for. In fact I think it’s more that I need a revelation. Do I go back to corporate boredom or, ‘fuck it’ and live life with no pennies but a whole lot of love in your belly for all the good you’ve done the world?
Ebay addiction would prompt the corporate corridor, but my ‘I can totally feed myself 3 meals a day for a week on £5’ head tells me to go save the world, albeit I will be doing it in some awesome dresses. WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO?

www.helliegibbons.com

My work mates

This picture doesn't need a caption.

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Death by Nylons

As many as my close friends and family and co-workers will know I had another drunk accident recently resulting in a much moaned about back injury. However my quandary is, will the pain I am experiencing right now mean that I will forever more have a fear of my beloved retro nylons? It was said nylons which contributed to my crash landing down a flight of small stairs in ones house. The nylon and carpet friction failed to work and ended up with me having a rather sore bottom and spilling gin all over the wall, neither outcome a happy one. As I screeched out in pain from my falling down a whole 5 stairs, no one came to my rescue even though our house had at least 15 very well dressed people in it. It would seem the bellowing of the latest Sing Star heat was beating my wavering tears. As I struggled back into my 1940’s stiff upper lip demeanor, I poured myself another gin and got on with my evening. The following day HOWEVER was a complete other story, every cough, laugh, sneeze resulted in crippling pain and a tearful eye, damn that alcohol wearing off it helps so much with phasing out pain, memory and standards.

I have a rather comprehensive history that involves me, alcohol and injury, one which started at 16 and shows no signs of ceasing. My list of injuries include knocking out teeth, breaking a toe, fracturing a collar done, busting open my knee & lip the list goes on, I am currently still sporting a mark from falling down the stairs in April! The problem with all my injuries is that I think my boss thinks I’m winding her up with all my fantastical stories of hospital visits and pain killers galore. I went through my childhood willing a broken bone so I could sport a plaster cast for my amigos to sign, the reality being that you get rubbish medication (some please give me a cortisone injection) and have to sit on a pillow at work and become the laughing stock of the office. Worse than that my current injury finds me clasping my lower back/buttocks area quite a lot, and I have to do it in public or I can’t get out of the train seat, bring on unwanted attention of strangers.

The revelation that pains me is that perhaps my pretty green lined nylons are not to blame for all my agonizing incidences but maybe... yes perhaps maybe… I can’t believe I am going to say this… I have a massive alc balance problem. I blame my lack of dedication to my tap career.