Late last summer we booked ourselves a beautiful, no expense spared two week honeymoon to St Lucia. All inclusive, stunning hotel with about 5 pools and a private beach. Very nice. Obviously, it took a huge chunk of our budget that we weren’t sure we could cover using savings alone. Planning ahead, we both applied for credit cards on the basis that it’d cover the cost of the holiday as well as spending money (what little we’d need) and we’d worry about paying it back on our return. 

As expected, we haven’t managed to quite save enough to pay off the holiday just yet and it’s better to pay for holidays on credit card anyway (volcano dust clouds etc). ‘It’s ok,’ I thought, ‘I have my credit card to fall back on’ - WRONG.

Apparently when I made my first payment, I made it late. I beg to differ Barclaycard. I made it before it was due but YOUR WEBSITE does not make it clear that when paying online the payment takes 2 days to clear. Therefore the payment cleared the following day - mere hours after it was due. I was charged, lesson learnt, and I’ve since always paid a week early and as much as I’ve been able to afford. No minimum payment for this chickie.

I just happened to check my account last night after cheekily using the card to buy some Black Milk leggings (if you’ve never heard of them - look them up. Now!) only to notice that my available credit was £49.00. I nearly fainted. Had my card been cloned? I doubted it as I have only used it three times. Had I been sleep ebaying? Possible. But no.

Because I ‘missed a payment’, Barclaycard have cut my credit limit by TWO THIRDS to £450.00 as punishment. The kind Indian man on the phone agreed whole heartedly with me that I didn’t deserve such harsh judgement, and that it was pretty unfair that I wasn’t even notified of the change, but told me that he sadly couldn’t help. The ‘decisions’ are made electronically and cannot be overridden by a human who can see, clear as day, that I’m in no way at fault.

I can’t try for a higher limit until 6 months have passed with me being a good girl. I’m horrified. We fly in 5, we have to pay in 3. Bad, bad times.

Of course, my plan is to pay off that card asap, cut it up and have them lose a customer. I also plan to apply for a new card, but there’s no guarantee that I’ll get one as this whole fiasco is classed as a missed payment and goes against my credit rating. Or I could apply for a credit building card, aimed at folk on the edge of the debt abyss, with an interest rate of around 40% - not exactly what you want hanging over your newly wed head.

Sorry if this whole post has come across as a bit off a babble. I’m in rant mode… 

I love my surname. I’ve had it for a long time. But more than that, it’s special to me because, unlike most surnames, mine came from my Mum. My Dad wasn’t around when I was born (he is now, but that’s by the by) and my Mum was using her maiden name at the time, so I took it when I was born.

My mum was one of 3 girls so me taking the name gave it a little more longevity than it would have otherwise had. I’m also the only one of my sisters who uses it. I have a cousin who also uses her mother’s maiden name but she’s a girl too… so it really won’t last forever. 

I’m not the sort of person who thinks you should pick and choose which elements of marriage suit you. If you’ve decided to marry someone, you marry them and you take their name. I know a lot of feminists will disagree with me but that’s how I feel. Therefore, not taking Mr Heathen’s name is not an option, but that doesn’t make me any less sad about the whole thing.

I’m really looking forward to having the same name as him, and to having our own little Heathen family, but it’ll be a real shame to see my maternal family name die out. I wonder if any other bride-to-bes have this sadness at an otherwise wonderful time?

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. As of a week Monday it is officially SIX MONTHS until my wedding and I’m having a financial breakdown. I keep going back over the last year of my life and wondering just why I haven’t made more of an effort to save. Too late now, though. And, really, we’re not doing too badly. We’ve saved a fair wad and I’ve managed to secure an awful lot of favours and freebies.

This does however, brings me neatly to the issue of the Rolls Royce…

Back in the humble beginnings of the planning I found myself discussing cars with my Dad, and trying to work out a way of making the 4 minute journey from my house to the hotel without having to part with nigh on £500. I asked almost everyone I knew who had a car (I even thought about asking Mum to take me in the Land Rover) and came up with nothing. Nothing at all. That is, until my boss intervened.

He wandered into the motorcycle shop next door to where I work and casually asked his friend (and the owner) if he’d be happy to drive me in his Rolls. Amazingly, he said yes, and that I should go and talk to him. 

Now, I’m not backwards in coming forwards - particularly when it comes to asking for things. But from people I know. I do not know this man. I know his name and what he looks like and I’ll nod to him if he comes into my work. He probably wouldn’t recognise me if he saw me in Morrisons. And, call me crazy, but the thought of marching in and asking him for a favour makes my blood run a little cold. So I put it off… That was six months ago.

I can’t help feeling that ship may have sailed.

Anyway, sitting in the pub with my beloved, my Mum and my Dad last night I decided to bring it up. I told my Dad that I was too scared to ask (motorcycle shop owner’s name) for a car and that I didn’t know what to do. I was hoping that my lovely, lovely Daddy would tell me that he understood and offer to pay for the hire of the £500 car for me. Instead, he reprimanded me loudly for being a wimp and insisted I get it sorted this week, because we rather wanted the Rolls all along. 

My local is very small. Tiny. Literally no bigger than your average kitchen and I looked up to see the barman looking at me rather uncomfortably. Trying to avoid his perplexing stare I let my gaze wander to the mirrors behind the bar. It was at about this time that I noticed that, about 3 people down from us, was the motorcycle shop owner. I’m not quiet at the best of times and when I’ve got a glass of pinot in my hand is definitely no exception. He was looking our way. I think he heard.

As I saw it, I had two options. I could style it out, march over to him and tell him I’m sorry I hadn’t asked before but is he free on the 6th September because I’d quite like his car after all. Or I could pretend I hadn’t spoken and avoid eye contact. Needless to say I picked the latter option and now I’m basically fucked. I could leave it a week or so and then mooch in and speak to him about it, pretending last night didn’t happen and that my boss only just told me about the Rolls anyway…

Or I could just accept that I basically just lost myself five hundred quid…

This is my competition winner - Michelle. Ain’t she purdy?

As I said yesterday, drawing an expectant lady was different and wonderful, an experience I hope to repeat. This one was also rather nice because I decided to use what is, essentially, my own handwriting (yes, really. I was force fed calligraphy at school) instead of turning to a downloadable font. So it feels very ‘me’.

No not me, I’m not pregnant *sob*

A while back, I ran a little competition over on my facebook page (facebook.com/littleheathepinups  - come on, you should really know this by know) in which the winner had the opportunity to get a free pin-up from me based on either themselves or someone they loved. All entrants had to do was share a picture of mine (thus creating more traffic to my page - see, I’m clever) and I had Mr Heathen pick a winner from a hat. I was chuffed by the response, but even more chuffed by my winner. Michelle chose to have her winner’s pin-up based on herself as a wedding present to her fiancé but, and here’s the lovely part, she’s also pregnant and wanted me to feature her bump on the picture. Too cute. Cue much panicking over how sexy it was decent to make a pregnant lady, albeit a drawing. Well, so far she’s in sketch stage (I’m super busy achieving feck all just know) but it’s safe to say that pregnant ladies can be as sexy as you want them to be! In fact, drawing the curves of the classic baby bump shape could be my new favourite thing. I wonder if maybe I could corner some sort of niche market…

In other news, I’m soon to be back in front of the camera! I’ve recently decided to shut down my ‘modelling’ page on facebook as 1) I never use it and 2) I’m no model and never have been. What I am is a complete narcissist who rather likes looking at photos of herself and who has shockingly blue hair. It’s the hair that got me this gig actually. Perhaps not one of the most avant garde photographers in my area but money is money, and I do love being in the studio. It could also lead to something more recurring, which is pretty cool given that I’m 27 and had pretty much given up on anyone wanted to photograph me again, ever. 

I’m also soon to be working on a rather special jewellery project with one of my favourite jewellery makers but that’s totally hush hush. Mainly because… well, you know how slow I am. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up about it, it could be years months before anything actually comes of it. But hopefully not.

And who in buggery is Angela Clark? You may ask. Well, actually she’s a fictitious character created by the awesome Lindsey Kelk and also quite a big part of why I’m not getting any bloody work done! Not that I’m complaining. The ‘I Heart…’ series of books follow Angela, a Brit writer, as she runs away from a cheating man to New York only to fall in love with a gorgeous rock star and monumentally fuck up in cities all over the World. I’m literally obsessed. If you get a chance to read this sensational piece of chick lit, I would highly recommend taking it… but set a few days aside…

It’s a wedding one, I’m afraid. 

So, we’re over a year into the planning, with only 7 months to go until the big day and it’s suddenly very, very real. Not that it hadn’t been before, obviously, it’s just that now I can see it - glittering away at me over in September, with two weeks in St Lucia warmly seducing me from behind it. It’s a lovely, exciting and emotional time.

It turns out I’m not too bad at wedding planning after all. I’m not a naturally organised person and assumed that, like all other avenues of my life, the fine details would be left to the last minute and/or, eventually, overlooked. Wrong. I’m very well organised. The key was starting early. I knew what I wanted so I got on and got things done. I would recommend any bride to be to do the same. Don’t linger over decisions. Chances are, you’ll always come back to what you looked at first anyway. Instinct knows its stuff.

However, my dress arrived at the boutique 2 weeks ago and, full of starry eyed glee, I took my mum and my sister (and maid of honour) to go and see it and try it on. 

It didn’t fit. Sheer horror.

I ordered it in a 12 and, without meaning to sound cliche, I think these things must come up small! But that’s by the by. The fact is, it can’t be let out very much and I’ve got to shrink into it. I was the last person in the world who wanted ‘losing weight’ to become a priority in the run up to the wedding.

Don’t get me wrong, I need to lose half a stone max for the dress to fit. And I’m secretly quite glad of an excuse to hone my bikini body a bit before our holiday, but part of me feels a bit disgruntled about making more sacrifices…

Let me fill you in…

It started back in March ‘11 when I originally went and chose my dress. I have always - ALWAYS - chewed the skin around my thumbnails and down to the knuckles. The skin would go all hard and perfectly pickable and I’d go to town until they bled. Well, it turns out that such thumbs are not conducive to effective dress trying on. It was pointed out to me that, even if I managed to not damage the delicate fabric of the sample dresses, the eventual and obligatory ‘ring’ picture wouldn’t look very glamorous on the big day itself. So I stopped. I had to retrain my brain entirely, as the picking and chewing happened without my thinking about it. It was an entirely subconscious thing brought on by stress, boredom or something as silly as needing a wee quite badly. But I stopped, and I’ve never done it since. I still crave.

Next up I saw a photo of a bride in her beautiful wedding dress smoking a cigarette. It didn’t look good, and I decided that I’d have to stop completely in order to not crave a ciggie whilst wearing my dress (far too pretty for fag breaks). So I stopped. Admittedly, this one is also good for my health and I have no intention of starting again once the big day is over, but it still wasn’t easy.

Also, as a bit of a minor (but still niggling) issue, my Mum wants me to give up my trademark bright hair for the wedding. It’s currently turquoise, my favourite ever, which even goes with the theme. I’ve almost talked her round but I know that she doesn’t think it appropriate. But I want to be ME on the day. I don’t want to be someone else altogether for ONE day. 

Now it’s the dieting. I have given up crisps (my ultimate vice), chocolate, wine during the week and have taken up the dreaded exercise. I thought I might quite like to have a (small) Chinese tonight as I’ve been ever so good for two weeks but my guilt, coupled by encouragement from my (also dieting) maid of honour has all but killed that idea.

So I’m a little fed up.

I know it’ll all be worth it, and I can’t wait to marry my prince charming and be his wife for the rest of my life, but I do sometimes want to scream that actually I’d still like to live my life for the next seven months because, and this part is important, once that day us over, I’ll just be me again. And I’d like to be the same me then as I am now, only a bit happier and with a ring on my finger. Should us brides really be expected to change our entire lives for one day?

I think I’ll get that Chinese after all…

This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for ages, but I’ve neglected my blog of late and for that I’m incredibly sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again. I won’t promise though, as I know what I’m like.

I’m here to tell you about a photographer turned artist whose work should be seen by as many people as possible. I hope that by sharing her work I can bring a little pleasure into everyone’s lives. Looking at it certainly brings a lot of pleasure to mine.

Hannah of DaisyRock Art lives in her own little world in a rainy corner of the Westcountry, creating dreamy works of art in the corner of her landing. Having loved art at school (she produced pieces that she’s still very proud of, quite rightfully, to this day) but moved away from the slower mediums of drawing and painting when she had her children. Finding herself with less time on her hands, Hannah discovered photography as a medium for getting her unique visions out her head and into the world.

DaisyRock Photography has gone from strength to strength over the years, covering everything from band photography to baby portraits and everything inbetween. Hannah quickly became the go-to photographer in and around her home town, known for her talent, relaxed approach and intriguing, challenging outcomes. She still continues to take photos to this day, forever discovering new ways to get her awesomely crazy ideas into other people’s heads.

However, as her circumstances have changed over the years, Hannah has re-discovered time for her first passions: painting and drawing. And thank goodness she did! I always knew Hannah was an artist, she oozes creativity. One day, she unearthed a picture I had never seen and mounted it on her wall. When I asked where it had come from she admitted that she’d painted it a few years before, but had never really been entirely pleased with it.

I know few artists are happy with a finished image, but I think you’ll all agree that the above painting is stunning. Perhaps not quite quirky enough for the DaisyRock we all know and love, but clearly the work of a talented and accomplished painter.

A change of home presented Hannah with space and the final piece of the puzzle fell into place and the DaisyRock studio was born. Since that day, Hannah’s confidence with her paintings and sketches has grown, working hard and fast to get the images onto paper as they form in her own head. Every single piece I’m shown blows me away. I once managed to put it into words, telling Hannah ‘your paintings remind me of things that haven’t actually happened’, and I don’t think I could really sum it up any better than that.

See more from Hannah and keep up to date with her work: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hannah-WheelerDaisyRockArt/171464166242281#!/pages/Hannah-WheelerDaisyRockArt/171464166242281 or http://www.daisyrockphotography.com

hollyrotica:

The amazing Dani AKA Little Heathen Designs, creator of our very own Lil’ Holly logo!

burningviolet:

Dani’s entry to our design contest. Like and reblog this post if you want this entry to win! Don’t forget to mention why you like the design. 

 Hey guys! I need your help. Trying my hand at something a little different, and would love your support. Please reblog if you like and help me win win win! :D

I don’t think I actually like painting. I blame my discovery of drawing inks. Far more friendly to one as impatient as I…