What a difference a half-year makes

"Last post published 16th April".

I had to read it twice to make sure my laser-correction surgery hadn't suddenly undone itself. How on earth has it been six months since I last had a wee blether on this? And yet somehow, when I think of how much has happened since then, it's all too believable. Update urgently required, methinks!
Soooo, to condense half a year's worth of DG shenanigans into as short a paragraph as possible, I shall be removing all words deemed non-essential for your reading pleasure:
Emotional rollercoaster summer. Uni plans put on ice, leading to swift lifeplan adjustments. Currently employed in icecream parlour, wreaking havoc with my waistline, tooth enamel and blood sugar levels but fun way to pay the bills until Proper Job. Loved up beyond belief with The Scotsman (yay!), happier than a pig in muck. Co-habiting until further notice.

So now we're all up to date, I can get on with What's Happening Now.

It's that spooky, autumnal (my current favourite word), chilly-wind time of year again! Can't beat it with a big stick; shop aisles stuffed with orange and black tinsel, cardboard hanging decorations of witches and skeletons, fake vampire fangs and huge containers of pumpkins in the supermarkets. Although the pumpkin thing I'm not 100% sure about, being one of the old-school group who used to carve turnips in their youth. Good times.

I'm sure I won't need to go into much detail on why the week before Halloween would be so exciting, not at all. Or why the presence of several bags of sequins, fabric and rhinestones in my bedroom would be enough to keep my delirious happiness at peak levels. Not even the dried superglue on my fingertips can wipe the cheesy grin off my face; for it is Costume-Making Season, and I am in my element.

Ice cream not included.

I've spoken before about my love for fancy dress, and at the age of 26 the shiny appeal of Halloween still burns brightly as ever. This year I plan to attend a friend's bash doing my best impersonation of a Mrs K. Brand, or Katy Perry to the masses, and I CAN'T WAIT. Of course, I have a perfect picture in my head of my planned ensemble, whether my vision translates into actual reality remains to be seen. I am currently halfway through my costume, and now that my lovely chum Smecky has lent me her trusted glue gun for optimal gem-adhesion, nothing can stop me!

I did briefly try (in vain) to persuade The Scotsman that it would be quite a brilliant idea if he went as Russell Brand to my Katy; he was having none of it, and has instead settled on a tutu-clad Ace Ventura. So now I'm off for a visit to the fabric shop to purchase several metres of baby pink net for my boyfriend. There is just something so wrong about that sentence.