Halloween in Hollywood Laid Bare

November 2, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife1 Comment

WARNING: This post contains partial nudity which may be disturbing.

I love fancy dress! I’ve always loved it. In Los Angeles where Halloween was often branded ‘Whore-O-Ween’ due to the slutty nature of so many of the costumes, I often revelled in wearing the biggest, ugliest, most ridiculous costume instead. If you’ve seen my Mrs. Potato Head kid’s party social media post, this probably won’t come as a surprise to you.

Halloween in Hollywood — Fortunately my friends in LA were as ridiculous as me

Boy did I see some costumes in my time there. Terms normally reserved for a Daily Mail article would best describe them “spilling out”, “busty display” “jaw-dropping cleavage”. You get the picture. But I’m still lost for words at a costume that has been forever been etched in my mind.

One year I ventured to the famed West Hollywood Parade where apparently pretty much anything goes.

There he was, a regular looking man wearing a pair of glasses, his head just poking up out of the crowd.

A simple ‘Jason Voorhees’ hockey mask rested on top of his balding head.

But as the people parted to make way for him, I realized he was wearing the most terrifying outfit I’d ever seen.

He was naked, all except for a very small pouch that barely, and I mean barely covered his privates. This homemade banana hammock would have given Borat a serious run for his money.

As if in a bad dream, I stood unable to move or scream as he tapped his way towards me in…..wait for it….a pair of clogs.

The worst thing was yet to come though as my husband (boyfriend at the time) encouraged me to have a photo with him.

“Go on, get in close, put your arm around him and give a smile,” he said.

God, how I wish I’d had a pair of Marigolds at that moment – or a time machine.

My arm slipped behind his back, and I guess I was so stunned by the lack of outfit at the front, I hadn’t given enough thought to what was going on in the back.

My hand grazed across his bare bottom just as my husband yelled: “Cheese”.

Seconds later, after the camera had captured this moment, ‘Pouch Man’ only went and dropped his tiny man purse and guess where I was stood at this point? Right behind him.

I could then confirm the pouch DID NOT cover everything!

I refuse to let this image (which if you need a bigger photo you can see here) taint my love of Halloween though.

So even now as we live our life in this sleepy Somerset village, we brought a bit of Hollywood Halloween with us. Don’t worry, we didn’t fly ‘Pouch Man’ over.

But we did decorate our house to the nines and much to our surprise and my joy, so did lots of other families.

The village was rife with carved pumpkins and a festive spirit.

The kids still went trick or treating and came home with a belly and a bucket full of sweets and best of all the only balls I had to contend with were chocolate eyeballs!

Caravanning Anonymous

September 15, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife2 Comments

Hi, my name is Hannah and I went on holiday and stayed in a static caravan!

There, I’ve said it.

I’m aware it’s not a big deal, in fact some of my happiest holiday memories as a kid were from vacations to caravan parks, but as a new friend pointed out to me the other day: “I think perhaps you’ve been spoiled by your holidays in America”.

She’s right, a pool drenched trip to Palm Springs or a few days snowboarding in Mammoth were at our fingertips (because we lived so close and it was affordable) and it’s probably for that reason that, like some sort of unnecessarily embarrassed idiot I’d whisper details of my British based holiday to my friends across the pond for fear of being judged.

“I hear you’re going away next week, anywhere nice?” some friends in America asked.

“Yes, just a little trip to the coast,” I replied. “A place called Woolacombe Bay, it’s supposed to be beautiful.”

Then I’d gulp when they asked if we had a house there or if we were staying in a hotel before revealing: “Nope, I’m staying in a static caravan.”

caravan park at woolacombe bay holiday park devon — Juxtaposition? This isn’t my car by the way!

“Ohhhhh. Like a mobile home?” they’d enquire, and I was sure they were envisioning me kicking back in a downtrodden ‘trailer park’ chewing tobacco, with the kids running around half clothed and caked in dirt.

Why is it that I’d happily tell them I was going camping in a muddy field where I have to pee in a bush, but I was worried about saying the words ‘static caravan’.

I had butterflies – I”m not 100% sure because of what. Excitement? Trepidation? Terror? – as I pulled into Woolacombe Bay Holiday Park to begin our four-day trip with my husband, our two kids, a friend and his daughter too.

My first thought was that we’d be transported to the set of Dr. Who and we were staying in a Tardis – because for six of us to fit into one of those homes, I presumed that’s what it had to be.

After picking up my key from the VERY VERY VERY animated man at the front desk (I see the bright lights of Butlins in his future), I could see my 6ft 2 hubby almost breaking out in hives as he unlocked our front door and practically had to get down on his hands and knees to get inside.

Our friend (who is a seasoned static caravaner) strode in confidently admiring “the spacious living room” and marveling at the “ample amounts of seating.”

Both my husband and I were more concerned about the toilet situation considering our pal had joked before we got there that the movie tagline for our holiday could be “6 humans, one bog, no mercy”.

Also our daughter has taken to shouting “Roll up, roll up, who wants to wipe my bum?” after using the toilet and I didn’t want the neighbours thinking the circus had come to town.

woolacombe bay beach devon — Sunny, but chilly morning at Woolacombe Bay beach

So I was pleasantly surprised to discover we had two loos! I mean my husband says he had to straddle it to be able to shut the door and whoever decided crepe paper was a sufficient material to use for the interior walls of a caravan clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

But lets look on the bright side, no one wanted to waste time sat in there reading a book and you could turn the kettle on while taking a wee, if you got the angle right!

Did the kids notice any of these quirks though? Of course they didn’t. They had pools, playgrounds and beaches (almost sounded like I was back in LA there) on their doorstep.

sunset woolacombe bay devon

Plus you couldn’t help but smile when you heard them roar with laughter every time my better half hit his head on the door frame or they heard each other’s bedtime toots through the wafer thin walls.

It wasn’t just about the kid’s enjoyment either. We loved the daily woodland walks down to the incredible coastline and the sunsets were out of this world. I’m not saying we grew to love the caravan itself. Our names aren’t down on the waiting list for next year! But we did have a great holiday with a lot of laughs, many of which wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for our choice of accommodation!

Somerset Sushi – I’m on a Roll!

August 16, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife1 Comment

It’s happened! I can’t believe it, I finally have a decent sushi restaurant closer than 45 minutes from my house. I still have to drive there, but lets face it there’s not much I don’t have to drive to anymore.

It might not sound exciting to many country folk but for me it’s music to my ears because sushi was my go to food in LA and the grub I’ve missed most.

But when I was first informed about this so-called ‘Sushi’ restaurant opening up in the summer, I was dubious. The news came via my mum and while she’s a well travelled and intelligent lady with a love of foreign foods, raw fish has never really been her thing – unless they are Danish herrings.

sushi in the british countryside — ‘Crazy’ excited for some sushi

Dad has always insisted on calling it ’Shh-shi’ and on the numerous times we took him to a Japanese restaurant when he was visiting he never once latched on to why we insisted on telling him to keep his voice down when he was ordering.

It was only when I saw with my own eyes that ‘Daniel Sushi’ was in fact a real place intending on serving up actual sushi that I began to get excited.

This wasn’t just some local fisherman dragging in a bottom feeding carp for us to dine on, the menu looked good and the chef was a professional.

The reviews were complimentary but I have to say the one that really stood out to me was this:

“I’m so happy there’s more than just supermarket sushi now, and even more glad that it’s really really good. I tried some of the beef that my dad ordered and it was out of this world.”

sushi in somerset — No, this isn’t a google image, this is the real deal

Once the laughing subsided off we trotted to ‘Bond Street’ – sadly not the posh one in London.

I nervously sipped on my chilled red wine – yep, they should probably do something about that – and wondered if in 24 hours I’d be doing an impression of the Exorcism of Emily Rose from both ends.

It’s true my Eastern European waitress wasn’t exactly up on her sushi lingo, but the meal was actually delicious and the only reason my tummy was rumbling was because I wanted more.

I went to bed on a salmon tartar and maki roll high. All I need now is for them to start delivering!

At the Car Wash

August 2, 2017August 2, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylifeLeave a comment

I thought I had stayed relatively British during my 15 year stint in Los Angeles. I Iost count of the number of times people commented that I hadn’t lost my English accent, I insisted on packing my bags at the supermarket and I still had a roast dinner, complete with Yorkshire puds on a Sunday. But on my return to the UK it became apparent that I had become a little ‘LA’ when living there.

I’m pretty sure the smartly dressed man outside the National Trust property didn’t appreciate me tossing my car keys at him when I mistook him for a valet and I’m convinced the owners of the local petrol station think I’m a complete idiot.

So much so I’m too embarrassed to go back there.

I’m used to driving a big car…but on big roads. I had a couple of prangs in Los Angeles but I still blame the fact I honestly couldn’t see over the steering wheel.

But for the majority of the time I could navigate the five lanes of heavy traffic on the 101 freeway – it just turns out I can’t navigate my way around a village petrol station – specifically I can’t drive my way through a car wash.

I was so excited about taking the kids through one – yeah, I know I said I was going to find fun and trendy things to do in the countryside, but I was having one of those days. Automatic car washes are far and few between in LA – mainly because when you valet your car you get the option for it to be washed too – so I figured it would be fun.

The problem was it had been a LONG time since I’d used one. I sat in the car and actually googled “how to go through a car wash”. Then to make doubly sure I did it right I went into the petrol station shop and spoke to the lady behind the counter.

I carefully explained – much to her amusement – that I was basically a foreigner and because I’d lived outside of the country for 15-years I wasn’t 100% sure on how to use a car wash. It was my kid’s first time and I didn’t want to mess it up.

She kindly gave me instructions that basically amounted to “line your car up, turn off the engine and the machine will do the rest”.

I still managed to mess it up.

Five minutes later I was stuck inside a dark car wash, with a pair of petrified children. I couldn’t get out because my door was wedged up against the oversized brush I’d somehow managed to get way too close to and I had to make my exit via the passenger door. Sheepishly and covered in soap suds – with the kids still screaming blue murder inside the car I might add – I had to go and explain myself to the woman.

She took one look outside the window, looked back at me and called her daughter in to take a look at what I’d done. “Look, look” she said pointing her finger at the disaster zone outside. “We haven’t had anyone mess up this badly in years!”

Oh how they laughed!

She then picked up the phone to call her husband!

“Why not call your mum too while you’re at it,” I said, because by this point I was not only red-faced but also painfully aware my children were still stuck out there.

Turns out she was only calling her mechanic hubby to come and help. I then had to stand there as they marvelled, along with a few rubberneckers, at “how the hell I’d managed that.”

After a lot of manoeuvring, tutting and shocked shaking of his head he broke my vehicle free of the brush that had got caught underneath the wheel arch of the front wheel.

I thanked him very, very, very much and went to jump into the car to make a speedy and shameful getaway, when they asked; “Don’t you want another go? Your car is only half clean.”

At first I was convinced they were only asking so they could catch another failed attempt on camera and flog it to ‘You’ve Been Framed’ for £250. But then the husband thwarted his wife’s plans by leaping into the driver’s seat of my car and positively INSISTING he drive my car and crying kids through the car wash.

Had this been in LA they would have probably forced me to pay for someone to come and fix the car wash and then sued me for damages. In the countryside however, they not only gave me my second £3.50 wash for free, but they also threw in two chocolate bars for the kids.

Lucky for me the English rain has kept me from having to go back and show my face, and terrible driving skills, any time soon! I knew there was a reason to love this weather.

50 Shades of Poo

June 14, 2017June 15, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife10 Comments

I’ve witnessed my fair share of brown nosing and bull**** living in LA, but I have never been so bogged down with crap since I moved to the countryside.

When I was discussing this blog post with my my mum she warned me that I should air on the side of caution; not use the word “sh*t” or “shite” and maybe even reconsider “poo”. She told me her generation often sees it as crass and unnecessary. Well then I ask, if plop is so offensive to them why do the ‘Cocoon’ crew all flock here, to the epicenter of poop?

animal poo in the Somerset countryrside — The kids find it all rather fascinating

A walk around our ‘neighborhood’ involves crossing a field, dodging cowpats and Henley asking “what sort of poo is that?” way more times that we were used to in Los Angeles – although to be fair it was always dog sh** there.

By now you all know and are bored of the story of me carrying my son’s poo sample in a mayonnaise jar to hospital, but I haven’t told you about the fox that took a turd in my boxing glove and then stole the other one.

The same fox I told the kids to take a peak at through the fence, “because you can get so close to them here” I said, only to realise it was ripping the head of a bird.

My Google history also contains a lot of questions I was never used to asking. My husband came back from a stroll down to the end of the orchard a few months ago and asked: “Have you ever seen a poo trifle? Well there’s one in the garden. It looks like several animals have been competing for the best poo, one on top of the other.”

My search engine informed me that it’s a badger’s toilet. They apparently dig their own latrine and use it for weeks on end, only there is no flush.

Henley’s fascination with this was so intense, we had to set up a night camera to capture the black and white beasts at work.

Running in the countryside is messy — Running gets a little messy!

We can’t even park the car in the garage because of the swallows that are currently living in there, using our aging Volvo as a bog.

It’s not bad enough I still have one child in nappies – whose bowel movement I had to scrub off the inside of the bath the other day – but the chickens regularly crimp one off in their water bowl and who knows who the tiny ‘code brown’ on top of the pushchair belonged to.

Right, on that note I’m going to clean off the sheep crap that’s caught in the grooves of my trainers from my cross country run yesterday!

A Guide to Getting Your Hair Cut in the Countryside

June 7, 2017June 7, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife2 Comments

I’ve never considered myself extravagant when it comes to pampering myself, but in Los Angeles a bi-monthly mani pedi was considered reserved, and no one batted an eyelid if the man sat next to you getting his cuticles trimmed was talking about spending the afternoon having his crack, back and sack waxed.

Sadly though when it comes to the hair on my head, I’m having what my brother calls “a bad hair lifetime”. I could hide it pretty well in America, under hats or by saying it was a beachy look but the British weather leaves me baring a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein or as my daughter says “a crazy lion”.

hair, countryside, albert einstein — My locks looked like a longer version of this pre haircut

In LA I had the luxury of incredible hair salons on almost every corner, and I was safe in the knowledge there was someone out there who could tame my mane.

But searching for a hairdresser in the countryside, when you’ve only got the recommendation from your 65-year-old mum, is a truly terrifying endeavour.

I trust my mum, she’s cute and trendy and has nice hair, but it’s white-blonde and short and I’m not ready to go down that route just yet. So when I asked her if the lady she uses does Balayage she looked at me blankly. “I can call her and ask,” she kindly offered. “What exactly is it again?”

For the record Balayage is just a painting technique for highlighting hair to give it a sun-kissed look, but I guess in the countryside blue rinses and a set are the most popular requests.

It turns out mum’s mobile hairdresser didn’t do Balayage but she’d “heard” about a salon that did. I got the number and gave them a call only for them to put the phone down on me.

robin james, hair, somerset — Robin James salon in Sherborne.

“I beg your pardon?” said the voice on the other end of the phone after I’d asked if their establishment did Balayage. Confused, I called back and the enraged receptionist warned me: “Don’t ever call back here again.”

I still don’t understand what she thought I was asking for, “can you give my balls a massage” is all I can come up with. Other suggestions are welcome.

My hair needed attention though and I was getting dangerously close to asking my mother-in-law, who once had a job washing hair in a salon 45 years ago, to give it a trim.

Many phone calls later, I finally found somewhere that did Balayage. I’ll admit it wasn’t that comforting when the lady put her hand over the mouthpiece to ask the stylists if they did it and then had to come back to me to ask me to spell the word, but I decided to go for it.

That was until, the talented guy snipping my husband’s hair in an actually quite trendy barbour shop, the next day, pulled a face and whistled: “You’re brave,” when I told him where I was going.

NOOOOO!!!!!! I almost asked him to just shave my head there and then. Fortunately with the bad news came some good. He gave me the name of a great salon 20 minutes away and when I googled ‘Robin James’ I was over-the-moon.

Hair, Robin James, Somerset, Sherborne — Yay for Robin James!

I did have to wade through the sea of ambling white haired wanderers in picturesque Sherborne to get to the salon’s front door, but once inside I felt like I’d been transported back to LA – so long as I didn’t look out the window that was.

Bean Shot Coffee, somerset, countryside — The best Bloody coffee I’ve ever had!

Ironically my young, tattooed and uber hip stylist talked me out of a ball massage, sorry Balayage, even though she could have made a lot more money from it! Unheard of.

To top it all off as I walked back to my car and dived into a doorway to make room for the approaching train of mobility scooters, I stumbled across the most amazing coffee shop. The sign in the window read ‘Bloody Good Coffee’ and it bloody well was. Thanks Robin James and Bean Shot Coffee for making what could have been a truly hair-raising day, amazing!

You Got Mail

May 31, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife4 Comments

I am well aware that this blog is supposed to be about finding cool and trendy things to do in the countryside so a post about post offices may just make anyone who is reading this switch off.

Village Post Office in England — The next village’s post office is positively buzzing!

But I can’t help it. I’m taking a rain check on my post about a fantastic holiday in Devon for one about mail or post or whatever you want to call it.

A country road in Somerset, England — Traffic getting there was a nightmare

When we moved back to England a very good friend suggested my daughter and hers, who had known each other since they were babies, became pen friends.

Obviously being three and four years old they weren’t going to conjure up handwritten masterpieces, but we figured scribbles and stickers would be greatly appreciated.

However, the contents of the packages was less problematic than the physical action of posting them.

I kid you not that my email (yes, I’m aware of the electronic irony) to said pen pal friend’s mum read:

“I’m glad she liked the card. H has written T another one, but the pace of village life means the post office comes to visit us just once a week in the Working Man’s Club,” I wrote. “I wish I was joking! I haven’t plucked up the courage to go in there yet. I don’t know what I’m expecting to find, but I I keep getting visions of the last man standing from the night before, being left in charge of the first class stamps and the stamp sticker pad has gone missing. This means he takes it upon himself to lick the stamps and even worse my envelopes with his stale cider breath,” I continued.

“So instead I drive to the next village where there’s an actual PO that stays open all day – except for lunchtime of course, because with all that foot traffic they need a rest. It also sells pet food, imports the local old lady’s knitted goods and if you’re really lucky you’ll find a second hand hamster cage for sale.”

Crafts at the village post office — ‘Craft services’ brought on a whole new meaning at the village post office

She responded by writing that she’d “audibly gasped”.

But my fascination with the place meant I insisted on my husband paying it a visit too, only he had to leave because he said it made him want to cry!

I, on the other hand, love it. I’ve even braved the Working Man’s Club post office too. I won’t lie, it was weird. There was a raffle and they were setting up tea and biscuits, but it beats standing in a half hour queue at the Hollywood Post Office where I was generally greeted with gritted teeth, a frown and a $45 price tag to send a letter home.

hollywood california post office — My old local post office in Hollywood, California

My only issue with going again is that I’ve just been told the Natwest Banking Van visits Martock on a Wednesday and I’m not sure I’ve got enough time to post a letter, have a free cuppa and get to the next village in time to pile into the back of a van to deposit my pennies!

Bottomless Bucks Fizz to Bottomless Chips

May 16, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife1 Comment

Gone are the days of popping out for brunch, ordering a bottomless Bucks Fizz (Mimosas in America) and ending up, in the words of Micky Flanagan, “out out”. But that’s more to do with having kids than relocating. Although our local pub still closes after lunch and doesn’t reopen for dinner until 6pm, so I can’t imagine them pushing bottomless pints of Somerset cider!

So imagine my delight when during a trip to beautiful Dartmouth, I saw the words “bottomless” shining like a beacon on a blackboard outside a restaurant. I practically broke into a sprint, abandoning my kids, hubby and food loving friend (lets call him FLF) on the other side of the road. My disappointment when I noticed the words “Bucks Fizz” had been replaced with “chips” was glaringly obvious.

Upstairs at Rockfish, downstairs was packed!

I stopped in my tracks, hands on hips and yelled rather inappropriately, I now realise; “Bloody chips! Bloody bottomless chips! We may as well be at McDonalds. What sort of a place sells itself on bottomless chips?”

“A bloody good one” a voice from behind me muttered as he walked out of the restaurant.

Now it was my FLF’s turn to sprint, actually he’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t do that, but regardless I’ve never seen him move as fast.

I still wasn’t convinced – the initial disappointment still stingingly fresh – but since FLF had already bowled me over to get inside, and was busy tucking a napkin into his collar despite not having anywhere to sit, I figured I had little choice.

Anyway, turns out we had stumbled upon an AMAZING fish and chips restaurant Rockfish.

Fantastic food, brilliant service and they didn’t discriminate against families like ours rocking up at their cool establishment with a pair of kids (and one FLF adult) chanting “fish and chips, fish and chips”.

They even had a designated area for the folk who dine around toy cars and crayons.

My FLF didn’t manage to beat the restaurant’s record of 7 re-orders of their bottomless chips, although he insisted he could easily have done it if we hadn’t all be watching him, but we still left buzzing – it was just from fine food rather than endless glasses of bubbles!

“You Did What?”

May 10, 2017May 16, 2017 hollywoodwife2countrylife2 Comments

I’ll never forget the reaction from the young saleswoman working in the local River Island when I told her I’d recently moved from Hollywood, California to Somerset, England.

It was peeing with rain outside and my 4-year-old was dancing out there like it was pouring M&M’s, her mouth open catching the drops and shrieking with delight as she got completely and utterly soaked.

Letting go of Hollywood – although this actually looks more like England

After explaining that there actually wasn’t anything wrong with her, and that she just hadn’t really seen proper rain before, we got to chatting about how I’d just relocated my life after 15-years in sunny California to a small village in South Somerset.

She was so shocked at what she’d just heard , she put my jeans in a bag and handed them over without taking a single penny from me.

When I pointed out she’d just given me a freebie she said: “I’m in a complete state of shock. I can’t get my head round it. Why on earth would you make that move?”

It’s a question I’ve found myself facing on an almost daily basis, since my husband and our two children (lets call them H and H, if you knew their names you may think they’d have been better staying in Hollywood) made the transatlantic move to the countryside.

We left the lovely life (friends, family, jobs, house) we had built in the almost always sunny state and started fresh in a small village where the only people we knew were my parents!!

Lunches on Malibu pier, followed by a stroll down Santa Monica’s sandy beach had been replaced with wobbly walks over the pebbly Jurassic coastal line. (“Much more scenic than LA you know,” my parents reminded us every time I emptied a stone out of my infuriated daughters’ shoe).

Soon the novelty of having all the things I’d craved for so long; seasons, woody walks and cozy pubs began to wear off a little and I started seeking out the luxuries and activities I’d enjoyed in LA….surely somewhere HAD to have sushi?

I almost felt like I was having an affair, cheating on Somerset as I sat late at night while my husband snored next to me, checking my friend’s Facebook pages in Los Angeles and googling the likes of “Soulcycle, South Somerset” “Yeovil, Michelin star restaurant” and at one particularly desperate time “mum’s who like wine, Martock”.

But then I realized if I was going to make a success of my new life, I couldn’t continue sneaking around behind the countryside’s back I had to embrace it instead.

It’s true there might not be a Barry’s Bootcamp on every or any street corner. I may have to drive or taxi (we are still working on Uber down in ‘these ere parts’) half an hour to get a decent tuna sashimi and a warm saki, but I’m making it my mission to eek out the best country living has to offer.

Whether it’s fitness, food, family fun or flirting with the idea of a new, fancy over the top and way too expensive hotel that serves the most amazing expresso martinis and has an incredible…..urghhh, I’m digressing. Basically, I’m determined to have a laugh exploring our new surroundings as I make the transition from Hollywood wife to living this country life!