Mr Frosty!

Monday - bluergh........or so I thought. 

But instead, it became an amazing day, because my amazing friends at work clubbed together and bought me this........................

It's a Mr Frosty Crunchy Ice Maker! OMFlippingG! 

Maybe I should explain, as many of you may be wondering why someone old enough to be getting married is so excited over a Mr Frosty!

It started when I was 6 or 7; I was busy flicking through the bible of child-friendly commercialism, AKA The Argos Catalogue, when I came across the jolly looking Mr Frosty. I read the description - the cheerful soul, Mr Frosty, would make ice, in his tummy, in a few simple steps. MAKE ICE!? In a snowman's tummy??? That's practically performing magic when you're a kid. I had to have it. 

It carefully wrote out the name, description, sorting code, catalogue number.....you get the idea, onto my Christmas list. At the top. Then Santa would HAVE to get it.

He didn't.

I tried again next birthday. Then next Christmas. When I eventually realised that it wasn't Santa letting me down each present getting time, I started a Mr Frosty campaign (which is to say, I whined and pleased and begged and cried at my parents). 

My parents did not get it.

EVER!

Clearly, they found this smiling chap who would happily convert those yummy looking e-numbers into ice cold e-numbers somewhat disconcerting. Or maybe they were worried by the hold he had over me? Whatev. Many years of disappointment followed.........

UNTIL TODAY!

So excuse the lack of nails - I'm off to make some ice:)