So I’m now a FINALIST for a MAD blog award.
(I’m supposed to do clever hashtaggy things now btw so here goes- #MADblogawards -done).
I literally don’t believe it! The timeline from when I found out basically went like this:
0-1 mins:”omgomgomg no WAY!”
2-3mins: Silent screaming, heart thumping and jumping up and down doing Rocky Balboa arms in my kitchen v quietly so as not to wake the terrible twosome.
3-4 mins: checked I hadn’t made a mistake by looking at the nomination page a gazillion times.
5 mins- called Popeye. No signal. No answer. Straight to voicemail. Standard, he’s below deck. Be cool Olive, be cool.
5-30 mins calling my mum (“oh darling I am so proud of you! This is amazing! Is it in London? (Yes) Out of how many blogs?(8 freakin thousand mum) oh wow! Wait hang on *tells everyone on the ward where she works*”.
At some point: – called Popeye. No signal. No answer. Straight to voicemail. Standard, he’s below deck. Be cool Olive, be cool. Seriously BE COOL.
And called my sister “AHHH THAT IS SO COOL! Whaaat are you going to wear???? Will the press be there? You are basically famous now sis- hey wait I get to be your plus one right? RIGHT???”
Tried (again) and called Popeye. No signal. Again. No answer. Again. Straight to voicemail. Again. Standard, he’s below deck. Again. Just breathe, Olive it’s not his fault.
And my little bro: “Wow that’s really cool. I don’t really read your blogs but the ones I’ve seen are quite funny. I’m off out to a Uni Party right now so can’t really talk but yeah totally whatsapp me the link to the nominations page “.
Ok ok, let’s just try again- called Popeye. No fucking signal. No bloody answer. Straight to twatting voicemail. Standard, he’s below the stupid deck on the bloody arsehole ship.
So I may have left a slightly shitty, slightly cryptic voicemail for Popeye and then poured myself another glass of Pinot Grigot Blush from Lidl, and posted a HUGE EXCITED post on my Facebook Page to all of my lovely, gorgeous and fantastic followers.
Then I basically kept pressing refresh on the finalist nominations page in a state of slightly tipsy disbelief, until I realised it was way past bedtime.
Rock and Roll!
I realised the irony of not being able to contact Popeye as I walked up the stairs with Sproglet on my hip (we have no bedtime routine for her btw- mum fail).
The whole reason I started this blog was because of stupid navy crap like not being able to get in touch with the love of your life when you need to.
And that’s (maybe) one of the reasons it got nominated in the first place.
So really I owe Popeye, my dear un-contactable sailor, and by extension, the annoying, heart breaking, heart racing, plan ruining, day making Royal Navy, a bit of a THANK YOU really.
For messing with my head (and my life) so much I wrote this blog in the first place.