The Adventures of Lakshmi

Seriously?

2009-12-12T18:11:00.004Z

Everyone in the office had chips at lunchtime yesterday - I snoozed and lost on that front so stopped in a troublingly spelled establishment called Flavas on the way home to make it up to myself.

Offered the choice of a sauce to go with my order of chips, I went with mayonnaise - at which point the guy behind the counter looked at me pointedly and said 'you'll get fat if you eat mayonnaise'.

The personal boundary issues of this statement aside, I was mostly rendered speechless by the situation - a vendor of dubious deep-fried battered chicken parts felt that the condiment I'd chosen was the most comment-worthy element of my meal.

Irony, it appears, is wasted on the ironic.

Ditto watermelon flavouring

2009-11-20T16:49:00.000Z

Why doesn't it taste anything like real watermelons?

Food for thought

2009-11-19T16:52:00.001Z

Why aren't bananas classified as 'tropical' fruits? They're grown in tropical climes aren't they?

Or are they so classified? If so, why has this information been kept from me for so long?

And why do banana flavoured products taste nothing like real bananas?

The company I keep

2009-09-03T09:26:00.002Z

Really starting to wonder if it is indeed me, not them.

Was talking to a couple of friends the other day about cars - hardly my area of expertise, as demonstrated by the ineptitude displayed during the GM years - and threw out the observation that if I could have any car in the world, I'd like an Aston Martin DB9.

To which, one friend said, 'But the insurance on an Aston Martin would be so high.'

She raised a valid point. Because, you know, that IS why I don't already have an Aston Martin...

Going postal

2009-07-13T17:33:00.003Z

Sent my previous landlords a rent cheque a few weeks ago - the last one, in fact, in a long line of cheques I've been sending them for (a personal record) nine months. The envelope (and the cheque within) got returned to me with no significant action taken such as postmarking the stamp (or indeed, cashing the cheque). No evidence whatsoever to indicate that it had ever left my possession. Or that it was any different than the several other cheques I've had to send over to the nincompoops at the previous landlord's office.

Mysterious you say? Indeed it was.

Although often content to leave mysteries well enough alone (I've seen the films, I know what happens to girls who go nosing around business that isn't their own), somehow I couldn't bring myself to leave this one unsolved. So I took the envelope down to the post-office and put the problem to the lady behind the counter.

She examined the envelope as thoroughly as I'd hoped she would. She looked at it forward and backwards, upside down and right way round. She might even have smelled it. She took it away and brought it back. And in the end, she said 'so why have they sent it back to you?'

To which I replied, incensed and justifiably so I feel, 'I don't know, THAT'S WHAT I JUST ASKED YOU'.

In the end we agreed on sending it as a recorded delivery and no more was said about the mystery of its return.

This incident has left me wondering if, just as Toosy is the keeper of the madness moths, I am the flame to which stupidity moths are drawn.

When our boots they hit the ground...

2009-07-13T16:59:00.003Z

My, what a busy few weeks it has been.

Despite the best concerted efforts on behalf of all the estate agents I met with to try and keep me from finding a place that ranks even poorly on the habitability scale, I managed to locate and secure one such dwelling and am now cosily unpacked and settled into my very own studio flat in Balham. It shares the approximate dimensions of one of my less roomy shoeboxes, but now that I'm growing accustomed to tripping over my own belongings, the place is definitely starting to feel like home. Plus, blessed as I am with a truly appalling memory, I can't remember what it was like not to live here, which is surely a sign of some deeper sense of calm? In any case, I love the new place, creaky floorboards, tiny shower and all.

Unfortunately Claude did not take so well to his new surroundings and after a mere 3 days in the new homestead I came home to his lifeless little body lying on the bottom of the fishbowl. (If I'd looked closer I'd probably have found a little note saying 'I told you I was ill' but I was too distraught at the time to examine closer.) His absence seems to have affected Eustace's nervous system too, as he now zips around the bowl with a somewhat startled expression every time he hears any sound at all. Fortunately, unlike Claude, Eustace has always been smart enough to know that when food falls your head from the sky, it's best to eat first and ask questions later, so his overall health does not seem to have suffered significantly.

The highlight of the summer so far has been in music festivals, seeing the mighty (Def) Leppard at Download followed swiftly by Bruce himself at Hard Rock Calling a couple of weekends ago. Needless to say, Bruce rocked but for me the real gem of the day (and possibly of this year) has been discovering and seeing live a band called The Gaslight Anthem who have swiftly become one of my all-time favourites. Mixing Springsteen-esque blue collar storylines with punk sensibilities, and throwing in an endearing grin and tattooed (ch)arms, Brian Fallon is seriously vying for a place on my Friends 5 list. I only wonder if Matthew Perry will ever forgive me...

When a man is tired of London...

2009-05-22T08:00:00.002Z

... he is tired of life.

So says Samuel Johnson and I'm inclined to agree with him.

Yet, that precisely is what Gareth has announced his intention of doing. Apparently the hills and vales of Wales (if there are any) have called to the deeps in his soul and are beckoning him homewards in July.

That's right, I have to move house.

Again.

Head like a hole

2009-05-12T10:41:00.002Z

I have a bump on my head that hurts when I prod it. Putting aside the question of whether the key here is not to prod it, the important thing is that I don't remember bumping my head.

But maybe that's because the bump erased part of my short-term memory.

I believe I have reached what the French call an impasse...

And now...

2009-04-02T10:26:00.001Z

My father just called to ask me where I went to University.

I'm really starting to worry about those two...

Seriously?

2009-04-01T12:14:00.005Z

The other day my mother called to ask if I was in the office.

At 10.30am.

On a Wednesday.

Honestly, I have no idea what she thinks I do for a living...

It's that time of the month...

2009-03-05T10:37:00.003Z

The flat downstairs appears to be ready and on the market - and cheaper than ours for some reason we haven't yet worked out. In addition, our annual rent review is apparently coming up in April, which Gareth has hinted might have some impact on whether we continue in the flat or not.

As we're now in the sixth month I've been in this flat, the ominous timing (and potential implications) of these revelations has not escaped me.

A-list?

2009-02-27T17:55:00.003Z

Forgot to mention my first decent celebrity spot since my London period began:

Guy Ritchie swigging beer at The Punchbowl in Mayfair

Some might say seeing a celeb at a pub they own is no real achievement. These people should keep their unwanted opinions to themselves.

Whistlestop tours

2009-02-27T17:13:00.003Z

What a busy last few weeks it has been.

After several varied attempts to deliver one of our new Billy bookshelves (I say one since we ordered three - our excesses know no bounds), I had little or no faith in IKEA successfully negotiating the delivery of the new sofa. And yet, somehow they did - even managing to get here during the specified delivery window. Bizarre. Anyway, new sofa all sorted. Now my Sauron-like eye turns to other things, viz. a new dining table. (Is this when you know you're old? When your wishlist veers away from shoes, entertainment and frivolity to furniture and homewares?) Gareth thinks I'm kidding when I speak of more new furniture - he little knows the true horrors that lurk within my catalogue-perusing soul.

The last week or so saw me fleeing the English countryside for warmer climes as I paid a brief but fruitful visit to the motherland and the sandlands. Three days in Chennai were filled with watching baby cousin Diya dancing like Flag Hippo, a dramatic bit of food poisoning, picking out lighting fixtures and attending a religious ceremony at my parents' new flat which involved circling around an indoor fire comprising of twigs and dried cow dung. Yes, an indoor fire.

The sandlands were simultaneously just as I left them and completely different than I remember. As always the roads have changed, there are innumerable new buildings and the new dedicated Emirates terminal has opened at the airport - all very big and shiny and new (natch) but with just a touch too much of the great hall with all the columns under the mountains of Moria in LOTR for my taste. Still, hurrah for getting hair and nails done, catching up with good friends and, of course, shawarmas.

Must make special mention here of the girl behind the counter at McDonalds in Jumeirah who spent longer telling me that getting a cheeseburger with no pickles would take more time than a regular one that was already made than she did actually considering that she was wasting more time having the conversation than just placing my order and getting on with it. When I ask for better customer service, this is not what I mean.

Still, visits to Dubai always serve to highlight to me just how right I was to move away when I did. What seemed like a bit of an irrational and not fully-formed plan at the time has worked out for the best in so many ways - stressful though it has been at times - and I am grateful for having had whatever sense I did that made me make the leap into the unknown. While the city remains a nice place to pop by every so often, it feels less like 'home' every time - even less likely to feel so once the few remaining people I know there move away, as they inevitably all will. Cue a long and varied debate on the nature of growing up as an expat and the sense of inherent homelessness it engenders.

Anyhoo, back in sunny England now, with the wedding approaching ever closer and a mild sense of panic setting in that I have to turn 29 before then.

White Monday

2009-02-04T13:46:00.002Z

An unexpectedly long weekend, thanks to 8 inches of snow on Sunday night, which ground the whole city of London to a halt on Monday. I was pretty effectively stranded at home for the day seeing as buses, Underground lines and trains had stopped running and I require all three to get to work.

Still, a nice unexpected day at home, consisting of hot beverages, a walk to the park, being snowballed by delinquent teenagers, the start of Season 2 of the Sopranos - oh yes and a bit of remote working.

Over the weekend I received not one but two cookbooks so Saturday was spent proving that I can cook as well as anyone with the letters n,i,g,e and l in their name. Made Nigel Slater's Potato & Mushroom Pie (which turned out to not be pie at all) and Nigella Lawson's New York Cheesecake. (The capital letters are meant to reflect how much time and effort this recipe-following involved - mostly in sourcing ingredients and a suitably sized springform cake tin.)

After expressing mutual disinterest in schlepping out to IKEA on a Saturday, Gareth and I decided not to get a new sofa after all. On Sunday we ordered one online. It arrives on the 14th.

Bewilderness

2009-01-30T10:16:00.002Z

Talked to my mother last night. Told her my plan for the weekend was to buy a sofa. To which her response, verbatim, was 'but wouldn't you rather have a laptop?'.

As yet, I am unable to work out how or why these two objects would be considered interchangeable substitutes for each other.

So, 2009 eh?

2009-01-28T08:49:00.002Z

Looks like I've left it too long to comment in any useful way on the changing of the year, death of the old, rise of the new etc. Suffice it to say I have spent much of this year cold and hungry and my prospects for that changing any time soon seem slim to none. On the plus side, I still have a job and I haven't moved house. Yet.

Claude is still looking ill - he has developed a worrying new symptom which sees him floating near the top of the bowl and puffing in a strained fashion. Am trying another dose of the medicinal drops as prescribed by the lady in the piscine emporium but am unsure how to proceed if that doesn't work...

Pre-ordered the new Bruce album last week and it's STILL NOT HERE. You have let me down, Play.com. The effects of this dastardly behaviour on our otherwise strong relationship remain to be seen...

Books I've read so far in 2009:

Dreams From My Father - Barack Obama - v good
The God Delusion - Richard Dawkins - v interesting for the most part. Gratifying to see I was and am not deluded although this did deny me any kind of eye-opening or life-affirming experiences
Dawn Of The Dumb - Charlie Brooker - painfully vitriolic but v funny for the most part. Sets the bar for the kind of writer I wish I was brave and smart enough to be

In other news it looks like I will be purchasing a sofa soon - to add to the list of furniture I still can't believe I own and thus tying me somewhat unwillingly to the concept of being an adult. Gareth is sneakily trying to get out of helping me shop for said new sofa, offering useless suggestions such as 'we can order it online' and 'send me a picture, I'll tell you if I think it looks comfortable'. So, comfort is the sole requirement for this new sofa (our current futon option is an instrument of torture of Inquisition-like proportions) and he appears to be implying this feature can be gauged by LOOKING AT A PICTURE ON THE INTERNET. The man's an ass.

On a more cheery note, he posed the question last night of which celebrities we should cast in a live action remake of the Cluedo boardgame (or Clue, to my American readers who did not have Ludo as children and thus were denied one of Life's simple pleasures. Along with Snakes & Ladders - I have not the words to describe how contemptible I think their cop out Chutes & Ladders version is). So far I've got:

Mrs White - Dawn French
Professor Plum - Stephen Fry
Colonel Mustard - Bill Nighy
Mrs Peacock - Cate Blanchett
Miss Scarlet - Angelina Jolie (Gareth had Nigella Lawson down for this one, presumably because he fancies her. That was his game, this is mine and I decline to let Nigella's unspeakably smug mug anywhere near it)

Which leaves only Reverend Green remaining - I'm toying with the idea of Rob Brydon but am open to suggestion. Thoughts and comments to the usual address please.

Do vets treat fish?

2008-12-16T15:22:00.003Z

Piscine emergency this weekend.

Returned home from a haircut (which subsequently did not get noticed much amongst the drama) to the news that Claude was swimming oddly and had an unpleasant looking red gash by one of his gills.

After careful observation (and the passing thought that staring into fishbowls on a Saturday afternoon was not the ideal way to spend what precious little is left of my twenties), a telephone consultation with Mr Kenny (he who knows about fish) and suitable documentation (photos of injury and video of unusual swimming motion), I wandered down to the fish emporium in Crystal Palace to secure suitable medication i.e. disturbingly-coloured stuff that gets measured out in drops per gallon of water or something equally precise that I didn't really follow. While there I also (finally) discovered what species the twins are - Calico Fantails for anyone who's interested.

As of yesterday the odd swimming seems to have abated but the red gash is only minimally improved. I fear the danger is not yet fully past.

X-Men 4; The Wrath of Lakshmi

2008-12-09T10:20:00.003Z

Tried telling the boys at work about my potential magnetic/radioactive superpower. They were not supportive at all, reacting mostly by laughing derisively and suggesting that time probably just seems slower around me since my stories are long and dull.

The fools will pay for their insolence. When my powers reach full strength, they'll be the first ones I vaporise.

Retail therapy?

2008-11-20T16:52:00.003Z

While I know I have a varied, diverse and generally interesting personality, I thought a list of my material purchases from the last week or so might provide Lakshmi-novices with valuable insight into just what they're getting for their money:

Brown leather Coccinelle handbag (was on sale, how could I say no?)
Disturbed's latest album (annihilation will be unavoidable)
11 P.G. Wodehouse books (10 Penguin edition, 1 Vintage)
A Terry's Chocolate Orange (round, but not round for long)
Seasons 3 and 4 of Entourage
Travel insurance (despite no solid plans for any trips in the near future)
Clean Cotton scented Yankee Doodle candle (went out, meant to buy lunch, bought a candle instead. As you do.)
Greatest Hits of Erasure CD

Try as I might, I can't discern a pattern...

We are the champions

2008-11-18T18:17:00.002Z

Went to (and won) pub quiz at the Commercial last night - leaving my Herne Hill pub quizzing record at an unblemished 100%.

Very gratifying to win, despite the relatively meagre prize, but very disturbing to note that my only real contribution towards our success was knowledge of bad 90's music - I correctly identified a Peter Andre song (can't believe I just admitted that in writing) and knew what country Ace of Base were from.

The shame of it.

Celebrity spots in London so far

2008-11-07T16:28:00.002Z

Lucy Liu at the Rodin exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art, looking at sculptures and being accompanied by a very tall man. As all very short women inevitably are
Howard from Take That at the Hospital member's club in Covent Garden, looking for the bar. Presumably to drown his sorrows, as Take That had not had their renaissance yet and he was, at that time, just another washed-up ex-member of a 90's boyband
Laura something or other who is currently one of the favourites on this year's X Factor* walking down the street in Covent Garden. Until and unless she wins and actually goes on to have a singing career, we might have to award her only temporary/pseudo/British-standard** celebrity status for now
Sir Derek Jacobi buying some sort of unidentifiable thingummy at a special effects/theatrical make-up shop in Covent Garden.

Looks like Covent Garden is a clear winner for potential celebrity activity but think the quality or at least recognisability of the contenders could do with some improvement...

*Singing-based reality TV contest, similar to Pop Idol, American Idol and countless others, to which I am hopelessly addicted against my will

**It doesn't take much to become famous in Britain. Really it doesn't.

YES WE CAN!

2008-11-07T15:50:00.002Z

What a momentous week this has been for world history - some might argue it's really more about American history but considering the 'leader of the free world' makes decisions that impact all our lives these days, I think we've all had enough of a stake in the recent US elections to celebrate at the result.

After months of preparation (mostly consisting of soaking up relevant media articles, watching episodes of the West Wing and reading The Audacity of Hope), Gareth and I stocked ourself with pizza, Pepsi, pretzels and pudding (the election was obviously brought to us by the letter P) and settled down to watch the entire night of US election results from 11.00pm to 6.00am. In practice, this consisted mostly of several hours of dull talking heads commentary from random people whose insight was no better than my own, briefly punctuated with amusing moments such as when Gore Vidal (who appeared to be drunk) told the BBC correspondant he (BBC man) shouldn't ask any him (GV) questions since he (GV) didn't know who he (BBC man) was.

Our patience and resilience was rewarded when Barack Obama emerged the clear winner and Sarah Palin's hopes of murdering John McCain and usurping the presidency amounted to nothing.

In a cynical and largely charmless world, it's nice to feel so strongly united with so many people, regardless of race, gender, creed, geography or age and feel like we've all been witness to a historical event.

A change we need indeed!

How to spot people at the airport who have just got off a flight from Dubai

2008-10-20T16:11:00.001Z

They're the ones wearing sunglasses.

Indoors.

At 9.00pm.

In England.

Uh-oh...

2008-10-20T16:10:00.003Z

Gareth walked into one of the spider webs the other day.

The mind boggles to think what hideous retribution awaits.

Things male friends talk to me about

2008-10-20T16:08:00.001Z

Curtains
Cleaning products
The relative merits of beards

Any glamour I may once have exercised is clearly gone.

Things my cab driver thought I might be interested to hear his views on

2008-10-20T16:05:00.003Z

Discussed during a 15 minute journey to Heathrow:

Gloria Estefan
Driving in Windsor
Volvos
Asian cab companies
Advertising on the radio
Maintaining the right attitude during an economic downturn

All, as I'm sure you'd agree, worth knowing about.

Everybody needs good neighbours

2008-10-14T15:41:00.003Z

There are, not one, not two but three fairly large spiderwebs right outside my front door, playing home to what appears to be West Dulwich's native species of arachnid.

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this state of affairs - my attitude towards spiders generally being that they're welcome to exist in an abstract sense, but not share my home - after all, they're TECHNICALLY outside and not attempting to interact with me in any significant fashion. That said, it's only a matter of time before winter sets in and they start looking around for more hospitable environments and when they do, it will surely not escape their attention that our home is within spitting distance of theirs, providing all the convenience of staying in the neighbourhood without having to foot the cost of ever-increasing energy bills. Plus, it's obviously only a matter of time before I come home late one evening, fumble for my keys in the relative darkness of our doorstep, inadvertently stumble right into the murky depths of at least one of the webs and incur the wrath of its occupant. And one shudders to think what the upshot of that kind of thing might be.

Gareth takes the view that they're 'interesting looking' (I maintain that he needs to re-think his idea of what is worth observation and what isn't) and they have not actually made much effort to get to know us, so as neighbours go, they're better than some. As such, we are leaving them alone for the moment.

We are, after all, not here to fuck spiders.

Please don't stop the music

2008-10-09T14:54:00.003Z

Some days, you unknowingly pick exactly the right song.

Each step times perfectly with the beat and the walk to the station actually improves your mood, despite the fact that you're on your way to work at an ungodly hour of the day when even the sun hasn't made it out of bed yet.

Today is going to be a good day.

Going for gold

2008-09-01T09:37:00.002Z

So another Olympics has come and gone, set to return when the fields are white with daisies.

I generally tend to avoid paying attention to the Olympics - after all, if some people take pleasure in flinging themselves a centimetre further into a sand pit than others or hurling a javelin about for no good reason, then they may feel free to do so but I decline to encourage them in these excesses. This year, however, I found myself surprisingly interested in the whole thing - meaning that I didn't switch to another channel if I happened to stumble upon it on TV. With world records being broken on all sides, Beijing 2008 struck me as an excellent example of the kind of strength and determination human beings can exhibit when they think someone might be watching.

Am going for my own record at the moment, having moved out of my fourth flat in two years. Although I'm not sure whether I should go for the record of largest number of house moves within the Greater London area in the shortest amount of time or whether the champagne should pop when I manage to live in any one place for longer than six months.

I would say thoughts and comments to the usual address but somehow that seems flippant...

Wuv... twue wuv..

2008-07-03T08:05:00.002Z

Day 3 of life with the Sony Walkman and I've realised that my girlish dalliance with the iPod were merely a fanciful distraction. This is true love

Walk the line

2008-07-03T07:58:00.003Z

I thought when I gave up driving, some of the travel-related annoyances in my life would, by default, disappear. Apparently not. It appears people who don't let you merge into the highway when you're coming off an exit have been replaced with people who step on your flip-flops when you're walking.

On the tube, where intimacy and proximity are unwanted but understandable, I'd be more forgiving, but if you're stepping (essentially) on the back of my foot while we're walking, YOU'RE TOO CLOSE!

The Shoes of Salvation

2008-06-20T16:41:00.002Z

Not sure anyone remembers (or cares about) the boots that defined my life's philosophy.

In a nutshell, I went to incredible pains to hunt down a pair of boots I fell in love with some years ago, when on holiday in the UK. I had little success, despite combing every outlet of Office (shoe store) that I could find over the course of my visit and being told nonsensical tales by shop assistants throughout. Turns out when I got home to Dubai, KY had a pair of said boots that didn't fit her particularly well, which she then gave me. All in all, this experience made me think of the larger picture meaning of life and I concluded that if things are meant for you, they'll find you.

Turns out the boots hurt like sin and I am shortly about to donate them to Jamila who will give them a kind and loving home, so I had to wonder what this meant for my earlier philosophical conclusion. Surely if something is meant for you, you shouldn't have to give it up? Having given this some thought (and I really did), I worked out my other life's philosophy, which is that (although if things are meant for you, they'll find you) sometimes things aren't meant for you after all, no matter how much you wish they were and perhaps there's no way to learn that but to have them, love them and still lose them.

No wonder women love shoes - they teach you so much about life.

Bring me a real challenge

2008-06-10T17:36:00.002Z

In an attempt to start the long, doubtless painful process of fitting back into my clothes, I waddled along to the gym last night and, among other things, had a stint on the Power Plate - a fairly strange contraption which vibrates under your feet as you go about the business of doing lunges, squats, push-ups and other unpleasant sounding (and feeling) exercises.

Have to admit I'm not convinced how much I believe in this vibrating muscle theory, having studied for years at the school of thought which dictates that if it isn't hideous, it can't be good for you. Other lessons I learned during that time include 'if it tastes like crap it's probably low calorie' and 'those shoes may make your feet bleed but they look great'.

Still, if it's good enough for Madonna, it must be good enough for me, right? Now all I need is a red string bracelet, a career in show business, an adopted child that technically has a parent and Guy Ritchie. Easy.

4 days to Bruce!

Down Under in Sarf London

2008-06-02T18:19:00.002Z

Following a reminder from KY that I was not averse to his music I trotted along to a Pete Murray gig the other night. Pete Murray being some sort of all-Australian homespun hero musician guy, the crowd consisted of some 3000 Australians who all knew the words to the songs, (a few of whom did bad shuffling dancing in my personal space) me and Rachel.

The Carling Brixton Academy is an odd sort of place, with Greco-Roman stylings in a part of London that surely not so long ago would have Elvis crooning songs about the plight of the underprivileged. But a great concert venue nonetheless, despite their odd security policies. Upon arriving, we were asked to show the security guards our handbags, which implied a nice sense of sartorial interest so I obliged. When the security folk asked if I had a gun, I did think it was a bit more direct than any other questions I'd been asked recently, but I admired their directness so I answered their question frankly and forthrightly in the negative. (Did seem a rather odd question either way you look at it really - either they was being careful of everyone, as Australian rock singers were likely to attract the pistol-packing troublemaker element (a fact I don't believe to be backed up by any significant or credible statistics) or she felt I looked likely to be a member of said p-p'ing t.m element and likely to incite violence at the slightest provocation. Which is surely on par with the airport worker who checked my flip flops for shoe bombs, when it comes to racial stereotyping?)

Anyway, turns out they were asking if I had any GUM - which struck me as an even stranger security precaution than not letting us taking bottlecaps into the Chris Rock performance at the O2 a week earlier. However, as I was in Brixton and already living life as far on the edge as I have done since my early 20s, I was in a devilish mood - I told them I didn't, even though I did. Bwa-ha-ha!

Fortunately Pete Murray was very, very good, so I forgave him the following:
-A hairstyle that made him look like a character out of some of the classic British 70s sitcoms
-A t-shirt and waistcoat combo straight out of Jason Priestley's Beverly Hills 90210 collection circa 1992
-Back up musicians who have clearly been to Rockstar Behaviour 101 and were keen to enact every cliche they'd ever studied

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of nothingness and bad TV - which, the older I get, gets closer and closer to my idea of perfection.

Catching up

2008-06-02T18:12:00.003Z

Well, it's been too long and I've long since forgotten what I've been up to in the last few months so suffice it to say, I moved house, I turned 28, my favourite won American Idol and that's all I have to say about that.

Things it has (apparently) taken me 28 years to realise

2008-05-29T16:55:00.002Z

Foods you fall in love with when you're on holiday are never as good when you bring them home and try to recreate the excellent meals you had in other countries (am sure there's a metaphor for relationships in here somewhere, but I'm going to ignore it for now). Examples include rye crackers from Finland, Genovese pesto from Italy and chorizo from Spain
The taste and appeal of said foods drop exponentially when you forget you bought them, realise months later that you should probably eat them and then find, after the first mouthful (naturally), that they have been past their expiry dates for quite a while

Less unpleasant revelations to follow soon.

Tip for younger players...

2008-02-21T09:10:00.001Z

If your motorbike still has the learner plates on it, don't wear a bright red Ferrari racing jacket.

It makes you look like a twat.

Pretty and popular again

2008-02-19T18:09:00.005Z

Has it really been that long since we were last here? Tsk, Tut and other reproving noises.

After what seemed like a slow start to this London gig, it feels like life really is starting to pick up speed. Perhaps not yet the break-neck variety but certainly a definite amount of liveliness has manifested itself into my calendar lately.

Since it's been nearly six months (and we all know what a detrimental effect the moving gods think that sort of stability can have on the fragile human psyche) it will come as a suprise to almost nobody that I'm shortly about to change addresses again. Fortunately not by much - this round is only a short one, as Lakshmi descends from the lofty heights of Flat 4 to the majestic lows of Flat 1 in the same building. On the plus side, the new place is completely freshly redecorated and furnished. On the down side it is a ground floor flat so (much as the English enjoy frolicing amongst the local wildlife) I might once more be subjected to the nameless horrors of possibly finding a snail inside the house. Still, you have to take the goods with the bads and stay as cool as some cucumbers. Or so the man said.

Speaking of cool, recent travel has taken me away from the cold spell that appears to have gripped these isles and is refusing to let go without a fight. Spain was actually quite cold in the shade but the sunshine did make up for it. It seems quite novel to be praising and seeking out the sunshine after years of assiduous avoidance. Such is life, I suppose.

Despite being numpty enough to not visit the Sagrada Familia, I did see a few sights in Barcelona, including the Gothic quarter and Parc Guell. While Gaudi had a fascinating sense of colour and pattern, I have to say some of his work struck me as belonging to the cheese-before-bedtime school of architecture.

A few jaunts around seaside town Sitges, a couple of Mandarina Duck purchases and several good Spanish meals (which, let's face it, is the real reason I went anywhere near the place) rounded out the rest of my trip.

As I have no significant travel planned for the very near future, I'm resting my hopes for international contact on potential visits from Emily (the other prettiest, most popular girl at IU in the early 2000s) and Matt B (who, on careful consideration of the situation, appears to be the only Matt I know who isn't married). Hurrah for airplanes bearing long lost friends and carbon footprints be damned! (Ok, not really. Well, maybe a little.)

With about 3 significant players in the Lakshmi game of Life turning 30 this year, I'm not getting many sympathetic audiences for my woes at turning 28 soon. Self-involved bastards, the lot of them. There had better be cake and presents to make up for this cruel and unnecessary behaviour in a month's time...

2008 and beyond

2008-01-22T17:43:00.000Z

Happy new year, one and all.

My but it has come round quickly hasn't it? Seems like only yesterday I was in Cardiff, scaring Jasper with loud noises and seeing in 2007. So it goes.

The end of December saw me off to the sandlands for a short, almost restful holiday. Hurrah for getting my nails done after a hiatus of 6 or so months. Hurrah for SensAsia. Hurrah for carrot cake at the Lime Tree. However, eventually, hurrah for coming home to London.

Following an awkward moment in the tube the other day, when a man offered me his seat - presumably because he thought I was with child* - the diet of death is back on and exercise is playing a displeasingly large part in my calendar planning of January. Although I suppose with my credit card bill being what it is, I can't afford food or socialising anyway, so it's just as well.

(However, as I simply never learn, have booked myself on another holiday - in a mere 14 days I shall be temporarily quitting these shores and heading for gay Barcelona. Not sure yet how I plan to pay for this, but as with all matters of finance, I intend to address that concern when I get to it.)

In other news, a couple of colleagues and I wiped the dust of the office from our feet for half an hour today and wandered down to the Tate Modern to cock an eye or two at Doris Salcedo's Shibboleth installation. For those who aren't as cultured as myself, this is it - http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/dorissalcedo/default.shtm . Yes, that's right, it's a crack in the ground, albeit an unusually sizeable one. Expecting my usual levels of cynicism to have gauged the situation correctly, I found myself pleasantly surprised at how engaging a crack in the ground can be. For the people who have reportedly fallen into it (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7037536.stm) I have little or no sympathy. I mean, if you trek out to a gallery for the express purpose of looking at a crack in the ground, you should at least have the good sense not to fall into said crack. (Well here I am, all set to look at a whacking great big crack; hang on, I've tripped on this giant bloody crack - who put that there?)

(Now, since I've used it so many times in that last paragraph, the word crack has lost all meaning. Crack? Crack! Crack. Crack...)

Finally, after years of swinging between political apathy and rage, I have found myself interested in the US elections and have been keeping reasonably well-informed about the race for the Democratic candidacy (if that is indeed a word). The mud-slinging has begun and I am finding it all quite diverting. The thought, however, that my horse might not win does warrant a shudder or two.

The threat of a visit from Guri (and the amount of energy that requires) looms darkly on the horizon. Have tried not to succumb to its evil influence but no doubt when Friday arrives I will be as dust beneath the wheels of Fate and powerless to resist.

*For those who don't know, in London's public transport circles it is de rigeur to offer your seat to those more in need of it, such as older folks, disabled folks and pregnant ladies.

Sweetie darling

2007-12-03T18:16:00.000Z

Well, well, well - here we are, several weeks lapsed between posts. And sadly nobody to blame but my own sorry self.

Last week, for what must be the first time ever in my career, I had a totally PR experience. On Wednesday night I went along to help with the ING end of season F1 party and (after a few short hours of standing around in the rain with an ING umbrella) found myself sipping champagne with the stars. Well, not that many recognisable stars but at least more than I have previously been in the same room with, B-List or eitherwise. Then the following day, I recovered from a somewhat distinctive headache by going to a long schmooze-fest of a lunch. Beats carrying boxes around and getting shouted at on the phone, which is what my job usually seems to entail. No doubt it'll be another five years before it happens again.

In terms of other recent activities, October saw me whizzing off to Cardiff for Jamila's birthday and helping her cater a dinner party for a dozen guests. What seemed like a daunting task at first turned out to be absurdly easy - once I'd delegated all the hard bits to my minions of course.

November saw me back again for an evening with Bill Bailey. Lionel Richie is a horse-faced drivel monger. Apparently.

In other news I have finally managed to return to going to Ceroc on a regular basis - strictly speaking, perhaps a more expensive hobby than I should have considering the state of my credit card bill but if I looked at it that way, I can barely afford to stay home and watch paint dry, so it's not much of an argument.

The end of the year is nigh and I am off to the sandlands in two short weeks. Plans for nails, coffees and massages already in place. Hurrah!

Flatmate Nick called Claude and Eustace fat the other day - my concern at the idea of leaving him in charge of them while I'm away steadily grows.

Last (wo)man standing

2007-10-19T17:43:00.000Z

At various points this week has felt slow, but today has simply slipped away from me and I'm not sure where the time has gone. It's Friday night and I'm the last one left in the office - does this make me the most conscientious or the most inefficient employee?

Staffed an interview today where I felt as though I understood nothing at all - I just sat there, attempted to take notes and eventually gave up after half a page of incomplete sentences stripped my will to continue. They were ostensibly talking about on-demand desktop streaming solutions (as you do) but it could have been red propaganda for all I knew. It's moments like those that remind me of how underrated PR girls are - what other job requires you to know everything about everything (or at least convincingly sound like you do) but still dooms you to a life of being written off by people with so-called serious jobs, as a bimbo who sips champagne and giggles at parties for a living.

Whoa, if I'm not careful I might undo a lot of the careful work I've done in maintaining that I don't like what I do... right, moving on...

Entourage and Ugly Betty are back on. Between those, Heroes and Spooks I'm back to having no reason to leave the house in the evenings. Not a bad idea, when I look (and shudder) at my disturbingly high credit card bill.

Rugby World Cup Final tomorrow night. Although I have no national or patriotic reason to watch it, somehow I have slowly got sucked into the rugby fervour of the last week or so. The end is nigh.

Tsk Tsk Tsk

2007-10-10T17:58:00.000Z

Well, loyal readers, there's simply no excuse for this sort of tardiness, is there?

What have I been up to? It's hard to say - I think I've got into that stretch of routine where the days seem to blend together and not many differ from those that come before or after them.

It's been a busy last few weeks for Dubai visitors, as the Peters, Natalie and Adi all made an appearance on these sunny shores. There's something so heartwarming about being able to catch up with people you haven't seen or spoken to in ages but can just instinctively connect with every time you see them. Lucky Lakshmi to have friends like these.

The big house move has happened and I have spent the last 10 days in the new homestead - mostly cleaning and rearranging but it does feel like home already, which is surely the point. Nick and Monckton don't appear ready to boot me out for being a bossy broad just yet but one cannot help but think that it's only a matter of time...

The various forms of transatlantic travel I had planned all seem to have ground to a halt once I had to consider the logistics and relative value of schlepping between three cities in 6 days. Still, have booked tickets back to Dubai for the Yuletide season so all is not lost. A couple of Cardiff journeys coming up soon too, once for Jamila's birthday and another to watch Bill Bailey live, as well as a potential visit to an English country house next weekend, so lots of other things to be getting on with in the immediate future.

Have managed to slice my finger open and bleed profusely into several bandages over the last couple of days but it was all in aid of slicing a genuine New York bagel - a loftier goal than which surely nobody can identify?

And what's an update from England good for without a mention of the weather. It's cold, wet and miserable. For a change.

Have been far too sociable for the last week, so off home to watch Heroes and slip between the sheets at a reasonable hour tonight.

La dolce vita (and other Italian desserts)

2007-08-21T08:49:00.000Z

Gosh I have been a grade-A shocker when it comes to posting!

Am sure many varied and exciting things have happened in the last month, but I can't remember most of them so I shall provide an abridged version:

Did fun tour of major London museums when Jamila and Marc came to visit over Bank Holiday weekend - I love the British Museum
Went to Italian embassy and got Schengen visa with no trouble whatsoever. So sucks to the Finnish embassy - ha-HA! Also fell mildly in love with attractive man behind the counter. Needless to say I have never seen him again. Ah well, such is the fleeting nature of love
Worked on a client event that ended up with me being in the office at 5.30am. Well, actually, standing outside the office building for half an hour since it only opens at 6.00am when the security guard arrives
Found new place to live
Went to Italy for Laura and Matt's wedding

There, I think that covers it... in the way a hanky covers a sedan, perhaps, but it'll do.

Earlier in the week I managed to sneak out of work at 5.30 (i.e. the technical end of our working day, although rarely the customary one) and found myself at a bit of a loose end. So I wandered along down to the gym to fulfil the one appearance a month that I manage to put in, in order to justify the astronomical sum I fork over by way of membership fees. Never do I get more of a sense of how magical London really is until I'm walking along with no specific purpose - I think having destinations and deadlines can numb you to some of the city's charm, leading many people to think that perhaps it has none. In spite of being poor, perennially single, partially homeless and currently about two sizes too big for any of my clothes, walking along the Victoria Embankment I felt an overwhelming sense of goodwill. There must be fairydust in the air.

Busy few weeks ahead, with the Peters arriving today for a fortnight, a visit from Nathalie next weekend and moving/packing shenanigans to get on with.

No rest for the wicked.

Some rocks and a hard place

2007-08-15T18:08:00.001Z

I have admittedly been a bit rubbish at posting lately - for no more interesting reason than being busy at work and not wanting to spend more time in front of a computer than strictly necessary. Not sure why or when exactly the cloud of work-related busy-ness descended on my already reasonably eventful existence but it seems to have settled in and made itself comfortable while I wasn't looking.

Last weekend saw me gadding about the countryside, visiting Salisbury and cocking an eye at Stonehenge - something I've wanted to do for most of my adult existence. Not to diminish its value, but I must admit that Stonehenge did not look quite as I expected. In my mind's eye, it's always been rather mystical and windswept and solitarily located at the top of a hill. It is, in fact, on the side of the road and simply dripping in gawking visitors (yes, self included, I know). Nor is it as big as I thought. Not that 45 tonnes per stone is a size/weight to be sneezed at but I'm going on visual aspects alone here. Still, it was good to finally see it. And to tell the truth, I wasn't disappointed, just surprised.

Salisbury is a lovely little city too, with a beautiful Gothic cathedral, river flowing through the centre and some nice little walkways. Sadly I doubt there is much demand for PR professionals there so moving over may not be an option. Yet.

Speaking of moving, it's been 4 months and I was clearly getting too close to settling in, so the laughing Gods have arranged for me to have to move house. Again.

Italy in a few weeks and then some talk of American adventures in October, so lots to be getting on with in the short term future. Ah well, no rest for the wicked, as 'they' say.

You can't take the sky from me

2007-07-30T17:10:00.000Z

After watching all 7 seasons of Buffy in a very short span of time, thought I might want a break from fantasy/sci-fi type DVD box sets. So what am I currently watching? Doctor Who and Firefly (Joss Whedon's other offering, which charmingly and humourously crosses Westerns with space travel and throws Chinese phrases and cultural influences in for good measure, but which was cruelly and prematurely ripped from the airwaves. No doubt to make way for another mind-numbing reality show about unattractive women and their quest to be the world's best chihuahua juggler or similar). Naturally.

The weekend whizzed by in a blur of running errands and attending KY's summer-ish barbecue. Can't believe it's almost August.

Today I am also a living embodiment of a cliche that I didn't think really ever happened. A colleague and I both turned up to work in the same dress. I have tried to cover up the fact (literally) by keeping my sweatshirt on all day but really this just serves me right for lowering my usual standards and making a purchase at H&M. Never again.

Matt and Laura's wedding in five short weeks - meaning I have four weeks to drop a dress size, find an appropriate outfit and pick out a present that will travel first to Italy and then back to Dubai. Oh yes, and somewhere along the way I must sort out getting a Schengen visa so they will actually let me into the country. Details, details.

Closure

2007-07-23T16:41:00.000Z

Well, it's happened.

The seventh and final Harry Potter came out over the weekend and the world now knows the end of the saga. Have to say, after getting off to a late start on reading the Harry books, the series has been a very formative part of the last few years for me - culminating with my decision to make no other plans for last weekend than to pick up and read my pre-ordered copy.

Was it worth it? Depends how you look at it really. On one hand, I am glad to know how the stories end, what happens to which of the characters and which of my theories were right. (Three and a half of them, in case you're wondering) On the flip side, it's not the fastest paced book of the series and I did find there were a few repetitive and somewhat unnecessary sequences that we could have done without.

On the whole though, the overwhelming feeling that we're at the end of an era overshadows any specific opinions about Deathly Hallows itself. Besides being a basic good vs evil tale (with not especially concealed references to Nazi Germany among others), I think the books appeal to such a wide audience because there's something for everyone in the tale. There are loads of characters, meaning almost everyone has one (or more) than they can relate to and connect with. Being a teenager is a pretty universal experience and who doesn't want (on some level) to be a hero?

Whatever will we do now?

Cultural experiences of all sorts

2007-07-17T17:01:00.000Z

Another busy week seems to have flown by and I found myself surprised (but pleased) to get to the weekend sooner than I expected.

After being stood up by a busy Mr Kenny on Tuesday I anticipated no other significant social activity last week. Famous last words indeed for the following two evenings saw me out and about. An unexpected night out erupted on Wednesday when I went for 'a drink after work' with a new colleague/friend who I proudly introduced to Gordon's and then dragged off to China Town to mangle a spot of dinner. By some strange coincidence we ended up back at the same place Geoff and I chose at random the night we were getting dinner in China Town earlier in the year. Clearly New Fook Lam Moon has some sort of sub-conscious hold over me. On Thursday KY and I went along to Shoreditch with Rachel and a couple of her colleagues, with a view to eyeballing the banker types said to haunt that neighbourhood. Being chatty girls though, we lost track of this objective pretty early in and just ended up having a giggly girls' drinks and dinner sort of evening. Fun despite not strictly achieving the set goals for the evening.

With no Jonathan Ross show to watch until September, Friday night passed in a blur of nothingness and I spent all of Saturday lounging about and preparing for my cinema expedition to watch Harry Potter & The Order Of The Phoenix. Which was BRILLIANT. From the phenomenal early scene where Harry and members of the Order fly their broomsticks along the Thames and through London at night, to the suitably and well abridged fight in the Ministry of Magic at the end, this was easily the best Harry Potter movie so far. Only 4 days until the final book comes out and I can barely think of anything else in the meantime.

On Saturday KY, Rachel and I set off for the countryside with a view to broadening our cultural horizons. A bit of sat-nav guided turn-missing meant we didn't get where we initially planned to go but were suitably compensated when we went straight to lunch at a pub that came highly recommended by an ex-boss (of mine anyway, he's still KY's boss) which fully deserved the build-up he gave it. Random cultural experiences were still to be had when we spotted and popped into a castle on the drive back. The brochure said the castle was built in 1385 but I'm convinced it wasn't there when we drove past it on the way to lunch an hour earlier. Bizarre.

Work is busy but productive this week. As regards social activities, I have already got off to a good start last night by skipping the gym to go for a drink with colleague from above. Am sensing a pattern developing. However, as am under strict instructions from Mum to 'go out and meet people', surely I have no choice but to give in?

Weather and deep-ish thoughts

2007-07-09T18:10:00.000Z

So, London has torn off its whiskers and revealed its true self over the last few weeks, making no pretence at sunshine or warmth as it did last summer (thus luring me into a false sense of security when I first arrived). It has been wet, moist, damp, aqueous, moist and soggy in turns since I got back from various travels, with no signs of change imminent.

Until this past weekend, that is, which was heavenly - bright and warm with temperatures in the early 20s and not the merest suspicion of rain to be seen. And London rejoiced by simultaneously hosting Wimbledon 2007 finals, the British Grand Prix, Live Earth, Le Tour de France and no doubt several other less well known but not less worthy events. I celebrated by spending a third of the weekend in bed with a cold, another third by braving Oxford Street on a Saturday and getting severe crowd rage, and a final third in a darkened cinema watching Ocean's 13.

Fear not though, they're predicting that we'll go back to rain and storms this week, so I can go back to my usual routine of wearing flip flops and walking around outside.

Last week KY, Rachel, James and I went to watch some sort of independent play malarkey at the Old Red Lion Theatre - a Canadian production named (aptly it turns out) Get Away. Badly delivered monologues about a post-apocalyptic world and paedophile undertones ensured that we did, as soon as they broke for interval.

Three days to the fifth Harry Potter film. Eleven to the seventh and final book. As this era comes to an end, I found myself speculating on whether the Harry phenomenon might be the pop culture influence that defines my youth. I mean I like the Beatles and many people love Star Wars but for someone my age or younger, I wonder if we can really know what it felt like to feel excited about them, look forward to them and experience them when they first happen. I may own every Beatles album but I'll never understand what it's like to have their music happen in my lifetime. And perhaps that's what Harry does for me? I've invested the last seven years in learning about him, following his every move, hypothesising what will happen next to him and, it appears now, contemplating on what his life means to me. I can barely contain my excitement at the next film (found myself ever so slightly teary-eyed at the posters outside the Odeon in Leicester Square and watching the trailers has routinely sent me into supersonic high pitched squeaks, ever since the first one back in 2001) and have been counting down to this book coming out since I finished the last one in a single day back in 2005. I'm not sure anything else has, or necessarily can, mean so much without actually being a true-life experience. And for kids in the future, whose parents will no doubt get them the Harry Potter books, the same way the rest of us watched Star Wars or read Lord of The Rings after the fact, which they will probably love and treasure, it will still never feel like this. Somehow I like that idea. I only hope that we don't become so degenerate as a society that the next set of kids never have a similar experience of their own.

Desired by many celebrities

2007-07-03T07:26:00.000Z

Received this excerpt in an email today and thought I had to share. It's taken from the website of a Russian restaurant/night club in New York and that's really all I know about it, but it's also all you really need to know in advance...

Named after an Odessa beauty Tatiana, who is frequently seen making rounds in the exotic andgrandiose restaurant. The Brighton Beach mystery of tradition unravels before your very eyes. I call it dinning with attitude. The scene that opens up is something out of a James Bond movie "From Russia with Love". Its Sex in the City mixed in Sleepless on Brighton Beach. Vodka and Cognac pours like fountain Di Trevi in Rome.

Ladies hang on to your husbands and guys don't forget to shave, because there are plenty of people to impress. You do not need a red carpet invitation to see city's top fashion worn in style and such sex appeal that is even desired by many celebrities.

If the name fits...

2007-06-27T16:43:00.000Z

Always wanting to spread sweetness and light, I picked up some candy while I was in Finland, for the folks back here at the office. I followed Tiina's advice on what brand might be representative of Finnish preferences when it comes to boiled sweets and bought a bag of a kind that she assured me she had always enjoyed as a child.

Upon return and opening of bag, am intrigued to note that while none of the wrappers give any indication of the flavours contained within, there is one type featuring an illustration of a lobster. This particular flavour is labelled Krapu.

I shudder to contemplate what taste sensation awaits.

Back on the chain gang

2007-06-25T12:49:00.000Z

My but it's been a while! And what a full month June turned out to be. As was last June, so perhaps it's just that time of the year?

There was a week in the last month when I'd been in four countries in as many days - which sounds quite jetset but was actually just the result of visa shenanigans taking longer than expected. It also ended up in me having to unpack and pack again between trips in less than 24 hours - which was pure hell as I am, without contest, the world's worst packer. Ever.

The last few days in Dubai seem to blur together (probably due to the three-day migraine that took over most of them) so I doubt I did anything worth reporting.

The trip back to London, via Doha, was noteworthy partially because of the stalker who sneakily took my picture in the Dubai Duty Free and then tried to make conversation off the back of this extraordinarily scary behaviour when he sat next to me in the departure lounge. And the bus journey between the terminal and plane in Doha was so long I was convinced they were actually driving us to London. But apart from that the flight wasn't worth commenting on.

Briefly in London on the Wed and then off to Finland on the Thurs afternoon. KY and I braved the unspeakable horrors of RyanAir (including being asked to disembark as soon as we sat down, because some genius had driven a vehicle into the back of the airplane) to get to Tampere at midnight. At which point, it was lighter than it had been in London when we left three hours previously. Amazing. Then it got pitch dark and pelted down with rain. Oh well.

A short train journey the next day took us to Helsinki and onto the Russian train to St Petersburg. Which was the closest I'd like to get to a military experience. Stern-faced staff and stiff, high-backed chairs coupled with being scrutinised at the border reminded me that although Communism has been out of circulation for a while, the shadow of it looms pretty large over everyday Russian life. A feeling that was magnified when we got into St Petersburg and the locals were noticeable poker-faced and lacking in the general friendliness and willingness to help that usually accompanies addressing dimwitted tourists such as myself.

The weekend passed in a haze of dinners, drunken dancing and sentimental speeches about young Cam - with a lot of (well deserved) nice things being said about our charming host. My personal best moment was getting home in an alcohol-fuelled daze, walking into and getting in the lift of the wrong hotel on the first night. Only the realisation that there was no fifth floor (our room was on the fifth floor) button in the lift alerted me to the fact that I might not be in the Astoria. On the plus side, I was in the Angleterre just next door, so I didn't have to get involved in a hidous cross country trek, looking for the right place.

In spite of being so soundly asleep (read passed out) that I didn't hear the girls get home later (they were not quiet), I got myself up and went to the Hermitage museum the next morning. Which was awesome. Some of the rooms of the Winter Palace truly took my breath away, although I couldn't help the niggling thought that it was indeed the sort of excess that inevitably leads to revolution. Skip past some of the less interesting bits and the museum has an amazing picture gallery with Da Vincis, Rembrants, Picassos, a few Rodins and a host of Impressionist masters.

More excess on Saturday night, although KY, Tiina and I chose the sensible option and headed home before the bridges went up - well, almost, as we had to drive a long way around to find a bridge that was still down (there are nine bridges in St Petersburg. I think). And had to communicate to our Russian speaking driver that we would not be paying him 1200 extra rubles beyond the agreed price of 800, simply for the benefit of being forced to take the scenic route. Have to admit I had a fair few queasy moments wondering if we were going to be chucked out on the roadside and told to find our own way home, but fortunately the driver's enthusiasm for haggling seemed to wane after we said 'nyet' a few times. Loudly and vehemently, to make up for not knowing any other words.

Most of Sunday morning was a write-off but a pleasant afternoon was spent sipping coffee, beer and Jaegermeister (in that order) and eating fried bread at an Australian (presumably in deference to our valiant leader) pub. A quick venue change saw us off to dinner and much toasting over vodka shots. Later we hijacked a short bus (am reminded that the last time I went somewhere with James Weiss, a short bus was hijacked - the boy seems to make a habit of it), had awful singalongs and found ourself at Metro nightclub where the average age (male and female) was about 16. I'm not sure I've ever felt older than I did at this souped-up school disco, so KY and I escaped with Dan and Alex to a strip club. Not sure why this was meant to be an improvement but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Back at the hotel at about 5.30 that morning, burgers, fries and last minute promises to catch up and keep in touch with all the nice people we'd met over the last couple of days. And I have to say, that is the best thing that came out of the weekend - the dinners, drinks and dancing were all fun, but it was the new friendships that really seem memorable now. We'll see how long that lasts!

Finland was a much more chilled out experience, from start to finish. (Or Finnish, if you prefer...) Helsinki is a nice little city and reminded me a lot of Cardiff, in its size and navigability. Although we stayed in what seemed like the world's most compact studio apartment (Tiina, KY, me and the dog), it was a relaxed time and cosy in an artist's studio sort of way. Which, in actual fact, is what it was. A tram journey through the city and then on to a bbq at Tom's (boyfriend of Viku, in whose flat we were camping) place. A vastly different experience than Russia but thoroughly enjoyable as we made more new friends (or stole them from Tiina, depending on how you look at it) who we expect to see here in the UK in a few weeks. One final night in Tampere (the city Tiina lives in), waffle fries with the best garlic aioli in the world and the holiday was sadly at an end.

Fortunately, the journey back wasn't too hideous and the wet weekend back was spent doing washing (myself and my clothes) and catching up on Buffy. Sunday morning, KY and I went for a very wet (and thus shortened) walk around the Common and then went to brunch with Guri, Rachel (newfound friends from the St P extravaganza) and assorted others.

Good times.

Sandlands, you gotta live it everyday

2007-06-05T14:56:00.001Z

The madness continues as visa shenanigans don't seem to be happening in as timely a fashion as I would like.

A few more days in Dubai appear to be on the agenda, but the laughing gods are ensuring that each extra day is packed with yet another new/familiar adventure.

Thursday night saw me at the Aerosmith concert - it was as hot as Hades, under-catered and not especially well laid out but the boys from Boston ROCKED! Excellent show with way more energy than I'm capable of at easily 30 years younger than any of them. And oh my god is Steven Tyler an unattractive man... still, there was a great rendition of Dream On and lots to sing along to so I won't complain that his exterior was less than ornamental.

A surprisingly full Friday morning followed with a trip up to Sharjah to pick something up from Jamila's parents and then pretty much a full day of work - albeit conducted at Bert's Cafe and then Aimee's house, both in The Greens where Wi Fi access roams free and there are no silly firewalls that won't let me get into my email inbox.

Having volunteered to help out Greg (head of GCI in Qatar) with an event he was working on at the Burj Al Arab this week, I forced myself to go shopping on Sunday but with no positive outcome. Trekked the entire length and breadth of Mall of the Emirates and found a grand total of one item of clothing I didn't hate. Then couldn't find shoes to match. Well, not counting the perfect ones in Jimmy Choo. A late-blooming fragment of good sense kept me from buying them, but it was touch and go for a long minute.

So, in a combination of old and new bits and pieces off I went to the Burj last night to 'help out'. Which, as it turns out, consisted of standing around, sipping champagne, eating foie gras and looking beautiful. All tasks that are fortunately well within the scope of my abilities.

Good to know how some things never change though - at any press event there's always one sleazy journalist who wants to take your picture and tries to give you his business card with his 'personal number' on the back. Not even the Burj Al Arab, it appears, can stem this phenomenon. Which is, in its own way, somewhat reassuring.

Anyway, a few drinks at the Sky Bar later I took myself off home wondering whether I'd be glad to return to work and my humbler natural environment. I'm not. Working for a living is a grossly overrated experience.

Notes from a sandy country

2007-05-30T20:52:00.000Z

Well, here I am in Sunny Dubai, almost feeling like I never left. Except, of course, that I did leave. A fact that I was reminded of when I took a slightly wrong turn tonight on the way home from Madinat Jumeirah and found myself on the way to Sharjah. As is standard practice in this city, they've changed the roads around again and the once familiar home town is turning into my own version of Planet of the Apes.

But it is good to be home - a pleasure to enjoy all my favourite things about the homefront without having to deal with the routine irritations that led to me wiping its dust from my shoes. Hurrah for shawarmas at Al Mallah after a night out; special queues for ladies at any government office; getting manicures and pedicures at NStyle just on a whim; the best fries in the world, served at Bar Zar; massages at SensAsia; random catch ups at one of the myriad coffee shops; the band at Jam Base; being able to drive to places rather than sweating over train schedules and tardiness; exchange rates of 7 to 1 working in my favour for a change. And of course, biggest hurrah for the family and friends that I miss, who make me feel so loved and popular that I forget it's still me we're talking about.

However, no points at all for having to work out of an office where smoking is allowed indoors for the benefit of so called creatives who apparently need nicotine to spur the sort of ideas that I wouldn't bother writing down for fear of offending the paper. Mistakenly allowed people to use the conference room I'm in for an impromptu meeting/brainstorm this afternoon. About 30 seconds in I was surrounded by a cloud of Marlboro Red's best work and having to stifle giggles over the apparent idea that dancing sausages could be used to promote mobile phones.

Oh and no nostalgia for heat, humidity, lecherous wrong number diallers who say they want to be your friend anyway, traffic jams and road rage either.

Moving on, a spot of unplanned Ceroc-ery with JP at Jam Base tonight reminded me of how long it's been since I did any sort of dancing and how truly ungainly I can be. Must remember to dance around my bedroom before I attempt a class on Saturday.

Aerosmith tomorrow night and several catching up extravaganzas scheduled over the next couple of days. At some point I must remember to pop along to the British embassy and sort out the visa that is actually the purpose of this visit.

Preparations for Cam's (and Tiina's) birthday jamboree continue and I'm resigning myself to not feeling particularly well rested until some time in July or thereabouts. Am also mildly concerned that truly drunken behaviour the other night following a painfully meagre amount of vodka might mean that Russia is not the most prudent destination for Lakshmi. Or perhaps it just means I need a bit of re-acclimatisation (is that a word?) after all the wagons I've been forcing myself on lately. Am sure it will all come flooding back once I get going. Hopefully only in the figurative rather than the literal sense.

The speed of sound

2007-05-22T07:26:00.000Z

Time flies when you're having fun. Or really, time just flies no matter what you're doing it seems. Almost the end of May meaning almost half way through this year already.

Strangely increasing workloads mean that I don't seem to get nearly as much time as I'd like for keeping this blog updated. Still, am doing better than Aimee whose once-inspiring example of bloggery has now fallen far short of the ideal.

First off, I must take back anything I said about the Finnish embassy - clearly the service you get there, like so many things in life, is completely dictated by the mood of the woman behind the counter. My second attempt went smoothly, with no signs of suspicion and my visa ready in three working days. So all systems are go for the Finland/Russia jamboree. Now all I need is some money and some clothes that fit.

After a full week of work (mostly consisting of many pointless graphs and charts that I put together and we then didn't use in the Dell quarterly review) and a Chinatown themed dinner experience with Mr Kenny, I settled into having no plans for the weekend, after Jamila deserted me and went to some sort of drumming event instead (yes, drumming - don't ask, I don't know).

Watched Spiderman 3 on Saturday afternoon - a lot more of the same sort of thing as Spidermen 1 & 2 but enjoyable nonetheless. I could criticise the length of the movie and how it possibly loses focus along the way by having too many villains on the go, but overall, I was most amused by how Peter Parker embracing his dark side mostly consisted of him wearing his hair badly and disco dancing goofily down the street. Still, fun to watch if you take it for what it is i.e. the third part of a successful franchise and thus under no obligation to be original. Pirates 3 and Ocean's 13 come out soon too but looks like my upcoming travels will get in the way of timely movie watching over the next few weeks.

Saturday night I finally finished the present I was working on for Baby Samantha - I have hesitated to mention it before because a) I didn't want her parents to know I was working on it and I flatter myself that they might read this blog sometime and b) it didn't look like I was going to finish it before Samantha went off to college so I didn't want to draw attention to my own inadequacies. However, now that it's done and I am all set to entrust it to the mails I can at least mention it in passing. That said, I have been known to send Christina her Christmas present in October of the following year, so maybe I shouldn't speak too soon.

Visited Shafina on Sunday and she is looking well and truly pregnant by now. Baby #2 is due in about September and at the rate little Yousuf is growing I'm concerned that the next time I look over at her, she'll have two teenage children who will roll their eyes at me and look bored at everything.

Can everyone please stop having babies?

Random boxes all over the office at the moment as we prepare for yet another desk swapping experiment. I'll miss the initial madness of unpacking and settling as I'll be in Dubai next week but that also means by the time I get back, my desk won't be where I left it. I can almost smell the confusion this will cause. In the meantime, have emptied the drawers of my desk and found that they contained:

Box of tissues
Eye shadow
Throat lozenges
Nail polish remover pads
Hair straighteners
Yellow highlighter
Hazelnut syrup for flavouring coffee
Blank notepad

So, lots of useful, professional objects then.

Am travelling in three days time and have not yet figured out how I plan to get to the airport. Must get to that.

Golden jubilee

2007-05-14T07:40:00.000Z

50th post today.

Busy weekend - as in me actually doing things and being out of the house, not just full due to watching multiple episodes of Buffy - although, let's face it, I did do that too.

Saturday morning saw me set off with Heather and a few of her friends on a London walk themed 'The Triumph of the Bourgeoisie' which trekked us past houses of the prosperous of 19th century London, including the original Mr. Debenham. Started off around Holland Park and ended up in the Kensington Palace Gardens/Albert Memorial area. Quite a hike but very nice, in spite of the near constant rain and feeling a bit like a tired drowned rat towards the end.

Decided nobody could top Lordi so skipped Eurovision that night and went out with KY to her friend Chris' 30 birthday at Chateau 6. Champagne was flowing freely and yet I drank water all night. Damn you, diet! Met a gentleman there who said he thought I was 'intriguing' and 'quirky' but as he did not ask for my phone number before I left, I assume he really meant 'questionable' and 'strange'.

Extricated myself from the drunken masses at a respectable 11.45pm and then proceeded to have to run for every last train from every station I got to (Fulham Broadway, Earl's Court, Green Park, Stockwell) since the night bus I'd been informed I could take home did not actually turn out to go anywhere near my house or indeed Clapham at all. 15 minute journey to this shindig, 80 minute journey home in the early hours and in hurty pink shoes. Oh well, the price I pay for sociable behaviours.

London was cold and wet and pretty revolting on Sunday, but I braved the elements to do a bit of errand running as this is probably my last available weekend before I head for the sandlands. A cosy evening by the fire and a few episodes of Buffy rounded out the weekend. The musical episode is perhaps proof of why this might be the funniest and most self-aware show ever filmed.

I knew she'd eventually hook up with Spike.

Dingoes ate my baby

2007-05-09T07:52:00.000Z

First Bank Holiday of May now over and I mostly spent it on the sofa, watching Buffy and reading Do Butlers Burgle Banks? - and scoffing vast amounts of ready-meals in preparation for giving up carbohydrates of all descriptions as of this week.

Got bored of the detox Diet of Death and am now on Day 2 of Atkins. No doubt I'll tire of this shortly too, but it might work while it lasts.

More embassy shenanigans scheduled for this week as I pick up my passport from the Russians and hand it over to the Finns. Wonder if dropping a word about my fondness for Lordi will win me any Brownie points with the Finnish embassy?

Have officially bought my ticket for trip to Dubai in a couple of weeks - am looking forward to seeing my old friends at N-Style again and Deema tells me Aerosmith will be playing during the week that I'm there. No doubt they'll have changed all the roads and put up a few dozen new buildings, so I won't be able to find anything anymore, but I'm looking forward to it. Despite the searing heat that will undoubtedly feature largely in the goings-on. If nothing else, it will be nice to wear heels again since I'll be driving rather than walking everywhere. Although, once my road rage sets in, I may take that back.

From Russia with love

2007-05-03T17:14:00.000Z

Well, it's been a full week.

Full of embassies, that is.

I've been to the Finnish embassy twice this week and am still no closer to getting a visa for Finland. This is more of a problem than it seems, given that Finland is an integral part of the Russian extravaganza and without the appropriate visa, I have little or no access to half that week's plans.

Anyway, the lady behind the counter at the embassy doubted my bonafides from the very start. She viewed me with unconcealed concern when I attempted to take my outer layer of clothing off (on account of it being a warm day, not some sudden desire to flash her). Admittedly I was wearing what counts as a 'hoodie' but if I look like the sort of person to have a bomb/weapon concealed about my person, then this is the first I'm hearing of it. She also clearly doubted the validity of my invitation letter from Tiina as she asked how I knew her and then obviously disbelieved my response that we used to work together. For an otherwise chilled out race of people, the Finns seem to have a severely bureacratic consular section at their London embassy. And they take two weeks to process applications, which doesn't really sit too well with my current travel time frame.

Contrast the Russian embassy this morning, where I waited in a queue for over an hour and then a grand total of 10 minutes submitting a mere two documents and paying for my visa. And, depending on how much money I was willing to pay, I could have the visa back on the same day or within a week. A glowing example of how embracing bare-faced capitalism isn't always a bad thing.

Met with my soon-to-be personal trainer last night and was gratified to learn that my upper body strength, flexibility and general fitness levels are better than I thought. Now if I just used them more often, I wouldn't be needing a trainer at all, but that's as may be.

Bank holiday approaches but finances dictate that Lakshmi will be spending the weekend sitting on her sofa, watching the final three seasons of Buffy. Oooh and Spidey.

Quote of the day...

2007-04-30T17:34:00.000Z

Received my paycheque today and wondered out loud what the National Insurance is for and why I was paying for it.

A colleague told me that "it pays for the NHS. So, you know, when you're ill and you want a superbug, you can go to the hospital and die."

Rather well put, I thought.

Spidey senses tingling...

2007-04-26T07:48:00.000Z

A generally busy week, but I'm in surprisingly good spirits. Had a weekend full of running errands, including a trip to IKEA for a shoe rack (assembled), new blinds (up) and a full length miror (still sitting on the floor in its packaging). It's funny how that would never have counted as a 'good weekend' when I lived in Dubai, but here in London it feels quite pat-on-the-back-worthy.

Am attempting to register with a clinic nearer to the new house and I am not sure why the process is quite so convoluted. I've had to go in once for the forms, once for the initial health check and soon again for the 'Women's Clinic' health check. Three visits already and I'm not even sick...

Was struck by a mild sense of melancholy earlier in the week when I realised it's been five years since I graduated from university. What have I been doing in that time? It's all passed in a blur and I can't seem to remember any of it. Any minute now I'm going to wake up and find that I'm 60. Oh well, no doubt I'll still be poor and single then too. Perhaps it's time I put a positive spin on the situation and was grateful for the only truly consistent elements of my life.

7 weeks to Russia. Clare and I are now on some sort of detox diet - or as I affectionately call it, the Diet of Death. It's not going too badly at the moment but it's only Day 4; any minute now someone is going to mention chocolate cake and I'm going to snap.

Have been put on a project for a client based in Qatar - it's only Day 2 and already some of the processes are starting to feel familiar. Can't wait until someone springs an 'inshallah' on me.

A visit from the Peters looms on the horizon - hurrah!

Hotel finally booked for the Scorza/Wade wedding extravaganza and just received an agenda for the St Petersburg jamboree. Think this might be another Year of the Maxed Out Credit Card...

Spiderman 3 premiere in Leicester Square a couple of nights ago - that shall be my mission for the Bank Holiday weekend. The greatest battle lies within.

Birthdays, belly-dancing and babies

2007-04-18T07:48:00.000Z

Hurrah for an interesting week so far.

Despite all the portents of doom surrounding me attempting any form of travel on Friday the 13th, I managed to get to Cardiff safe and sound and even on time.

Saturday morning saw Jamila, Rania and me off to a belly-dancing class where I think we overcompensated for not having jingling coin belts by thrusting our hips harder and waving our arms more enthusiastically than strictly necessary. By the time we left, we were feeling tired and broken, even though we were among the few people there under the age of 50. Still, it was a fun first attempt - might wait a while to see if I feel like a second. Or if these old bones can stand any more abuse.

The rest of Saturday passed in birthday shenanigans for Marc and suprisingly I made it home on Sunday afternoon in one piece. One rather sniffly piece though. I hate being the one to complain about a cold but they really are rather inconvenient aren't they? Your brains feel like mush, you can't breathe, your head hurts, your throat is sore, you cough like a 2-packs-a-day smoker and you feel weak as a kitten but all you can say is 'I've got a cold'. Hmph.

Still, I was clever and took the day off on Monday to rest, drink fluids and watch Season 1 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I've never watched the show on a regular basis but through no fault of its own really. So far am enjoying it, so I'll refrain from questioning elements of the plot. Besides, I'm only a quarter of the way into Season 2 at the moment, so perhaps all shall be revealed at a later stage.

Other news includes that I won the office sweepstakes for the Grand National (Silver Birch won at odds of 33-1) and scooped £39 in mixed coinage.

However, the biggest news of my week so far came last night when Chris and Christina called to announce the birth of Samantha Minga Neukam. I'm sure they told me important things about her like time of birth and size and such but I was busy squealing so I might have missed some of those details. Yay! I'm an auntie! (Really must get the present I've been working on sorted out - there is absolutely no excuse for this sort of tardiness.)

Exactly 8 weeks to Finland/Russia extravaganza. The diet starts today.

If it's Tuesday, this must be Blackfriars...

2007-04-10T18:00:00.000Z

Boo to the end of the long weekend.

And boo to not having an Easter egg this year. Well, not too much boo, since really I have no-one but myself to blame for that. Besides, impending Russian holiday, where I will be forced to compete with gorgeous leggy blondes for the attention of my friends, just to ensure that I don't get left behind in some random nightclub while they disappear off with woman who will (if stories are to be believed) elbow me out of the way, means the fewer calories the better at the moment.

(Wow, that was a long and complicated thought...)

Anyway, hurrah for the shortened week and then upwards and onwards to Marc's birthday extravaganza over the weekend.

Over the weekend I went to sunny Brighton on the South (?) coast of England and a charming little city it was too. Well, the bits of it that I saw were nice. Narrow, winding streets with random little shops and kiosks, as well as a wonderfully garish pier with loads of dreadful looking rides, cotton candy stands and hideous stuffed animals to be won. Even though this is a new Brighton pier (the old one apparently burned down or something), it had a lovely old carnival ground feel to it - exactly how a pier should feel, if that makes any sense.

And hurrah for old bookshops where I picked up THREE early edition Wodehouse books, in green fabric hardcover and inscriptions inside from 1929 and 1931.

Mr Kenny is doing well and I am well pleased for having a friend living in an interesting city as it gives me reasons to go down there without feeling like an oddball. On the whole, with him living there and Clare having grown up there, Brighton seems to be worming its way into my consciousness with no small amount of sneakiness. What can it mean?

Plans for St Petersburg continue with hotel bookings chopped, changed and now finalised and train tickets to and from Helsinki to be purchased next week.

Went into O2 shop yesterday to proceed with phone number transferring process and was told it would take ANOTHER WEEK before it was finalised. Admittedly I don't actually know the intricacies of how these things work, but I'm convinced this process shouldn't take 14 days from start to finish. Someone somewhere is attempting to lead me up the garden path and I am wholly unimpressed.

Still no shoe solution for new room. Still no word from Christina on Baby Neukam. Still no idea what I feel passionately enough about to present on it at my Presentation Skills training on Thursday.

This is going to be a busy week.

The memory's the first to go...

2007-04-04T16:31:00.000Z

Forgot one event of interest and one random conversation from the past week.

Event - met up with Gareth and went along to pub quiz at the Prince Regent in Herne Hill last week. I felt a little rusty having not been at any sort of quiz in easily a year. Have to say this was reflected in the very few things I actually knew (notably the chemical symbol for Ozone and the name of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' nemesis) but in spite of my poor contribution we still WON! And walked away with a handy £45 apiece in prize money.

Am worried that the precedent thus set might be a bit too ambitious for future attempts, but will worry about it if we ever go again.

Conversation - rang up Orange yesterday morning in order to get some sort of code which would allow me to switch network providers but still keep my phone number. I have been pretty much forced to do this because Orange provides no coverage for my phone in the new flat and in order to get reception I have to dangle out of the kitchen window. And while it provides a mildly amusing mental picture, that sort of thing's simply not convenient on what we might call a regular basis.

Needless to say the process of getting through to someone who could help me with this need was quite involved and required a lot of 'if you require this, press one', 'if you require that press two' etc. Once I finally got through and explained to them that I had no reception in my house and that I needed the PAC code, I got transferred to some guy who then launched off on a giant spiel about all the good deals I could get from Orange, the number of free minutes and text messages a month I could have and why Orange is the best mobile service provider on the face of God's green earth.

I let him stop for breath before reminding him that the reason I was choosing to stop using Orange was not price related but because all the free minutes in the world are no use at all when you HAVE NO COVERAGE.

To which he said, in a tone of utter contempt, 'you have no coverage AT ALL?'. I got the feeling it was only by a thin thread that he was avoiding telling me I should clearly just move house.

Fish, Facebook and new furnishings

2007-04-04T07:24:00.000Z

It's been a busy eight days since I last posted.

Since we last met I have moved house and am now reasonably well settled into the new flat. Well, my shoes are still a bit homeless but I'm trying to figure out what my strategy for storage and retrieval is. An IKEA mission might be in order.

Apart from that, am getting used to a slightly new routine (and figuring out where things are), including looking after my new pet fish - Claude and Eustace. They're coldwater fish and that's all I really know about them except that they don't seem to be very smart. Lively, but seemingly not intelligent enough to open their mouths when they want to eat. Still, am feeling quite attached to them already and I'm beginning to understand why they say watching fish can be soothing.

In the last week or so I also got involved with the somewhat time-consuming but ultimately-pointless shenanigan that is FaceBook. After an initial flurry of searching for and adding friends to your list, there doesn't seem to be much else to do with it. Think I shall stick with blogging, less interactive though it may be.

Long weekend coming up, with both Friday and Monday off - am going to Brighton on Saturday to visit Mr Kenny and explore the rumours I've heard about the city being very cool. Apart from that, I plan to spend the extra time off sitting on my new sofa, in front of my new fire and staring meditatively into space.

What cabbage?

2007-03-26T17:31:00.000Z

It's been a tumultuous week.

The relief of having finally found a place to live lasted exactly a day and a half, with the plan for 6 Cavendish Rd falling apart on Wednesday afternoon. On the plus side, the one full day of relief I had, was my birthday so it was one less portent of ill will to deal with at an already stressful time. On the flip side, it meant I was back to being homeless again and with even fewer days in which to sort things out.

Still, as they say, all things happen for a reason and being chucked out on my ear meant I went looking at 70 Bonneville Gardens, met Clare (soon to be landlady and flatmate) and now am back to having a potential home again - one I feel much more positive about and one that ultimately has more earmarks for success.

Friday saw me spend the day in Belfast, mucking about with surveys at the annual FSB conference. The city looked green and pretty between the airport and the conference centre and I've had an adult-dose of Irish accents which should keep me going until the next fix.

With new housing arrangements imminent, the weekend was spent packing things away and wondering just how much rubbish one person can accumulate in a mere 8 months.

Watched The Prestige. Twice. Yes, it is just that good. What's more, it's the type of layered film that makes you realise only at the end all the little things that you've overlooked along the way. Oh yes and the boys in it are hot. Even in magician beards.

Mad busy week ahead at work, painting of new room to be done and eventual moving in shenanigans scheduled for Saturday. By the end of it all, someone is going to be a very tired panda...

P.S. Saw this and found it too good to leave out

2007-03-20T18:29:00.000Z

Bring it on, 27, I dare ya...

2007-03-20T18:13:00.000Z

So I suppose it had to happen sometime.

The dreaded day has come. This is the oldest I've ever been. Still, am in pretty high spirits following a good weekend and a series of phonecalls, text messages and emails that remind me how lucky I am in the family and friends departments.

Weekend shenanigans in Cardiff resulted in positive actions all around - Wales beat England; I had chocolate cake and pancakes (not together, although that sounds quite promising too); I'm now almost the proud owner of a pair of fish and, most importantly, having something else to think about for a couple of days resulted in good karma on the house front.

After visiting a grand total of 25 flats of various sizes, shapes and occupants over the last few weeks, I have now settled on No 6C Cavendish Road. The girl moving out is off to a new job in Dubai and the new flat is so close to the current one that I won't have to change any of my travel or grocery shopping habits. Perhaps rather a lot of time, effort and stress to move a mere three streets over but into each life some rain must fall, I suppose.

Off home to enjoy my first night in weeks of doing nothing and contemplating the infinite.

Sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays...

2007-03-12T18:24:00.000Z

This past weekend had the potential to be quite restful and relaxing. Instead I felt rushed off my feet and more stressed than ever with house-hunting plunging to unprecedented depths.

Still, stayed up and watched bad music videos from various decades and genres on Friday night, so all was not lost. What was it with the 80's and allowing dorky white boys to dance in their music videos - I'm looking at you, Rick Astley and I'm especially looking at you, Jimmy Somerville.

Off to Cardiff this coming weekend - have promised Kristen a proper Welsh experience so we will be watching rugby and looking at a castle. Oh and eating pancakes with maple syrup.

A box set of Seasons 1 & 2 of Entourage is now available at HMV and Ian tells me Season 3 of House is set to start on TV next week - proof that the world isn't such a bad place after all.

Slice of OX?

2007-03-09T22:26:00.000Z

Phew. Finally another week over.

The past few days have seen me trekking in and out of several strangers' homes, asking dull questions about rent and deposits and making forced small-talk about hobbies and schedules.

Considering how big a city London is, this week it has felt tiny. At a house-viewing last night, the next potential tenant arrived early and I was amazed to recognise him as someone whose flat I had viewed back in July when I was last looking. (Good thing I didn't go with it - at the time I decided against him because I couldn't feel comfortable looking at his weird goggly eyes. Now I see that my prophetic soul had merely been warning me that he wouldn't have lasted as a potential landlord either.) Then this morning at the office I ran into an ex Dubai colleague (admittedly one to whom I've probably spoken a grand total of fourteen words since we first met back in 2002 - most of them today) who is working freelance on a project for GCI.

Went to my first meeting at the Dell offices in Bracknell yesterday. Was suprised to see that they are right next door to HP. Still, as they say, not much to do in the country but think what a tick your neighbour is. I imagine that's the case even without millions of dollars worth of computer equipment to fight over.

Tickets to Finland bought and hotel room at the Astoria booked this week as the St Petersburg slowly starts to take shape. Am trying to see if I can work in a detour to the North of Finland to go to the Lordi rocktaurant. So far KY and Tiina aren't going for it, but it's early days yet.

Will be 27 in 11 days. Am so not ready.

How do ya like them Apples?

2007-03-06T17:06:00.000Z

Early morning drama today. Woke up cold and was told that the radiator in Dianne's room was leaking beyond any hope of repair and would need replacing. Hung about waiting for the plumber for a while and then left when I found that Tara (landlady) had given him keys after all! Still, will be nice to have the house feel warm again after no heating or hot water since Sunday night.

Got pretty replacement headphones for my iPod - my usual anal retentive sensibilities made me think I couldn't have anything but Apple ones but a recent amount of anti-Apple feeling led me to not want to give them any more of my money than necessary. So I settled on Sony ones as some sort of compromise. But really, I think the fact that they had pretty turquoise bits on them was probably the actual deciding factor.

Good progress being made on planning for St Petersburg and Italy later on in the year. No progress made on planning for visa shenanigans, impending homelessness or upcoming birthday.

You callin' me a liar?

2007-03-05T19:09:00.000Z

Phew! Rather a full weekend, although I'm not sure what of.

Friday afternoon at the Computer Weekly awards at the London Marriott. Dell didn't win whatever it was they were up for, but I suppose it would have been worse hanging out at the office, working. Wandered down Oxford St to get to the tube station home and was accosted by a guy trying to get people to contribute to some charity. I tried telling him that I already contribute to several charities of my choosing, so I would look into his before committing to anything. He didn't seem to believe me, which I have to say left me feeling quite put out, even though I'm sure is probably the sort of lame excuse he must get from a lot of people. Still, I feel guilty enough about feeling like I don't do enough to better the world, without having random men on the street doubting my bonafides. Hmph.

Spent Friday night on the sofa watching Walk The Line with Dianne and Boris - I'd seen it before but a little more Johnny Cash never hurt anyone. Or at least if it did, I'm not aware of any documented examples.

Saturday and Sunday were spent dashing in and out of the house for various errands, a bit of house-hunting and farewell drinks for young Catherine who heads back to Dubai this week. Mojitos rule.

Birthday in 15 days and I don't think I've ever felt less excited. Oh well, no doubt I'll get up some enthusiasm when the cards and presents come flooding in...

Banana Guard

2007-03-01T14:24:00.000Z

If I ate bananas with any degree of regularity, I'd want one of these:

http://www.safebanana.com/

Hurrah! Titles!

2007-02-28T17:54:00.000Z

It has been a busy week so far, with not much hope of it easing up any time soon. *Sigh*

Have seen two more flats so far but nothing that has taken my breath away sufficiently to warrant mentioning in any depth.

Kate's last day tomorrow and I am pretty distraught, but am attempting to hide it under a veil of scornful disregard. One of these days, something is going to snap - I can just tell.

Machinations with getting my UK work permit should begin soon and it looks like the time-frame for getting it all sorted out might be April/May, meaning I might have to put off the US trip I was planning to do at that time. On the plus side, Campbell has come through with an interesting proposition for spending his 30th birthday in St Petersburg that should serve as a cheerful substitute. I shall ignore the following statements from the WikiTravel site on the city:

St Petersburg is known for violent conflicts and is notorious for violence and break-ins
After the war with Chechnya, local hatred is growing toward people with darker complexions and neo-Nazism is a concern
Russian drivers do not respect pedestrians too much... Do not even think about running over the road when there is a red light because some drivers will just drive faster and not stop, even if they hit you
Steer clear of stray dogs, as some are aggressive

And my personal favourite:

In some places in St Petersburg, you should not brush your teeth with the tap water, nor open your mouth during showers

Right, where do I sign up for this trip?

2007-02-26T18:14:00.000Z

It's been a full weekend and I'm still tired.

Friday night saw a very sparkly gold Dianne celebrating her birthday in style. I went along with Random Mark in tow - and felt like a right old lady beside all the energy and enthusiasm a 22 year old nipper has - and had rather a good night out, although I did manage to lose my jacket along the way. Still, the jacket was nigh on 10 years old and wasn't even warm anymore. I think I miss it more for sentimental reasons than warmth-related ones. Actually, by the end of the night when I had taken my shoes off and was wandering around barefoot, I might also have been a little cold.

Saturday morning saw me wandering along Northcote Road in a bit of a daze, looking for a suitable present for Baby Yousuf. Having bought him t-shirts with dinosaurs on them (because all little boys should wear dinosaur clothing. It's the rule.), I wandered into Buona Sera planning to grab some lunch and spend some quality time readin JPod. The looks of pity on the faces of the hostess, wait-staff and people at the next table, presumably because I was on my own and thus clearly a social leper,were nearly unbearable. I made up for it by eating a meal of epic proportions and then promptly feeling incredibly sick. Hobbled home and spent the rest of the afternoon in a restful anaconda-like state of digestive hibernation.

Watched An Inconvenient Truth that evening and very good it was too. Although, that said, I think it's (rightly) aimed more at American audiences than international ones. Awareness and activism around climate change is very strong in Europe, so the film didn't necessarily educate me on issues, but rather on the extent of them. As I said, very good indeed, in spite of some cheesy Al Gore montage moments.

Sunday passed in a blur of kiddie birthday party and catching up with Geoff King for drinks and dinner. Without any specific purpose in mind, I led the poor unsuspecting gentleman to the heart of Soho where as a heterosexual pair we were in the minority. Still, it's all character-building.

Spent three hours in a Digital Influencer training session today which I found quite interesting - perhaps proof of my supreme dorkiness. Or maybe truly the communication tool of the immediate future.

32 days.

2007-02-22T08:53:00.000Z

Tuesday was Pancake Day here in the UK. Something about a tradition of making pancakes to use up things like eggs, flour and sugar which were the sort of thing that good Christians gave up for Lent. I'm not sure I know anyone anymore who gives up anything for Lent but everyone loves a good pancake, right?

I was astounded to learn that British pancakes are not the same as American ones (and honestly people, I think we're dragging this difference thing just a little too far. I mean, mustard is one thing, but pancakes? Really?). Turns out British pancakes are kind of thin and bubbly, more like crepes (and don't let's even get started on trying to compare British food with French), and served with lemon and sugar while American pancakes are more soft and squishy and served with butter and maple syrup. I nearly had the chance to try the British kind as we were meant to be having them here at the office that afternoon, but some nonsense about the hot-plate not working deterred me. Oddly enough, Dianne had Scotch pancakes at home that night which were really just like miniature versions of American ones, which she had with butter and jam. So perhaps what I was calling British pancakes are actually just English pancakes? But then, that's apparently how they have them in Wales as well. I am thoroughly confused. Besides, I've always preferred waffles anyway.

Have now given my landlady notice, so the countdown to being homeless is officially on. 37 days.

2007-02-20T12:14:00.000Z

Apologies again to anyone who was sitting there, holding their breath and waiting for an update on my weekend activities.

After my post on Friday I had a stroke of inspiration that made me order a DVD for Dianne that I think she'd like. Go figure that we watched TV together that night and she mentioned at least two things that then sounded like better presents. Hmph.

A sudden spate of keen-ness (aided by a gurgling heater that woke me up at an ungodly hour) saw me in the gym on Saturday morning - a rash decision for which my nether portions have yet to forgive me. Did a bit of flat-visiting in the afternoon and saw quite a nice place on Northcote Road that I could quite easily see myself living in. I have since been informed that, in actual fact, I will not be living there. Hey ho.

Watched Hot Fuzz, which made me giggle but not laugh out loud. Good film though, understated humour and a good amount of referencing back to things I found funny in Shaun of the Dead as well. I shall watch Simon Pegg's future endeavours with considerable interest.

Went to see another flat on Sunday afternoon and, have to say, had my faith in humanity shaken a little. It turned out to be a house with SIX people living in it (bad start), with stains on the carpet (ick), broken sofas (really disturbed by this point), a bathtub that was missing tiles and had exposed pipes along the bottom (horrified) and a kitchen that looked like nobody had ever wiped it down after a fry-up (nearly the last straw). The people that lived in there were all roughly my age, possibly even a little older in one case, so I couldn't even write it off as student behaviour. Then they had the colossal nerve to tell me that lots of interested parties had viewed it, so they couldn't be sure if I would get the room. It took all my willpower not to tell them that not only did I not want the room but that no amount of showers would ever make me feel clean again after this vile experience. When I heard that one of the bills for the month was apparently for a cleaner, I knew the last straw had come and gone; the camel's back was in pieces. I fled.

Sunday night saw another bit of drama, as Dianne attempted a bit of DIY, trying to bleed our radiators. The gurgling noises were simply unbearable and the house was getting progressively colder all week. It seemed to work at first but then the whole thing went kaput and we had no heating or hot water. After a minor amount of drama from Ms Ramsay, we called the landlady who in turn called 'the little man' who came along and sorted it out in just under 15 minutes. The upshot of all this being that now that winter is coming to an end and we're both scheduled to move out soon, we have a wonderfully warm and toasty house =P

Yesterday disappeared in a haze of busy-ness and this week looks like another packed few days. What it is to be so popular!

2007-02-16T09:19:00.000Z

More of a challenge than usual, getting out of bed this morning, in spite of it being lighter at 7.00am than it has in months and my heater gurgling like a leaky tap right by my ear. Still it's Friday, so that's some small consolation.

Met up with Pete Kenny last night which, apart from one particularly revolting anecdote involving a centipede, was an excellent evening's worth of story-swapping and Chinese food.

Looking forward to a weekend spent sitting on my sofa, staring into space. Might have to intersperse a bit of birthday present buying for Dianne's 31st next week. Astoundingly, I have realised that in spite of having lived in close quarters for six months and spening several evenings having a chat with her, I really don't know what she likes or would want.

Hrm.

2007-02-15T13:18:00.000Z

So the longest night of the year has finally passed and I can put off being single and bitter about a Hallmark holiday for another year. Special thanks to Geoff and Toosy, whose cards, gifts and flowers are actually the only Valentine's Day presents I've ever received, making this an extraordinary year.

Spent last night eating pizza and watching Snakes on a Plane with Dianne. Personal highlights:

"Great. Snakes on crack."
Scenes being shot in evil green snake vision
The bad guy who has arranged to fill the plane with snakes saying there was no other way to stop the witness testifying against him
End credits song by Cobra Starship featuring lines such as 'I can see the venom in your eyes'

Another long week this week - still no flat and more upsets at work. If I were so inclined, I'd be wasting away from the stress - sadly I think it's having the opposite effect and I'm expanding rapidly enough to soon have my own gravitational force.

Still, meeting up with the unsuspecting Mr Kenny tonight, which promises to be amusing and uplifting.

Will end on this note:

2007-02-12T08:57:00.000Z

The flat-hunt is back on, although not yet in full swing as most of the people with rooms to rent are looking for someone to move in pretty much right away and I'm not set to go anywhere until the end of March. It's all a bit stressful and boring so let's focus on my personal favourites from Avenue Q instead:

More drinks! More fun! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
Everyone's a little bit racist...
What do you do with a degree in English?
The internet is for PORN!

Excellent show indeed. However, I do feel sorry for the parents who mistakenly thought that there being puppets meant it was an appropriate show to bring a 10-year-old daughter to. They must have spent the entire show with their hands clamped tightly over her eyes and ears so she could be shielded from the racism, homophobia and puppet-sex references.

There wasn't much left of the weekend after all the meals we managed to fit into the space of 24 hours, but I can't think of many better ways to fill the time than with friends and food.

Valentine's Day tomorrow - have a rather full schedule of Dell annual review meeting and poking my eyes out with knitting needles.

2007-02-09T16:41:00.000Z

Hurrah for free speech!

Thanks to the pro-Scientology person who left me a reasonably valid comment on my last post. I gracefully concede that I'm sure much of the stuff the media make up about Scientology is untrue - as are most things you read in the tabloids. However, the secrecy that surrounds the faith and the lack of forthcoming information don't exactly help sell it to me as a viable explanation for the nature of the universe.

In any case, as someone who belongs to a polytheistic religion which itself requires several leaps of faith, I don't think I'm ready to try and embrace anything else at this time, no matter how good the biscuits.

Still, good to know that someone's reading this blog, even if it isn't necessarily the people I know. I will have a fan following yet... watch out Mil Millington!

2007-02-09T09:06:00.000Z

The Church of Scientology is around the corner from my office and on the rare occasions when I go to the gym on Queen Victoria Street (or indeed, go to the gym at all) I walk past it. I'm always amazed that there are people in there. I mean, haven't we all read and heard enough about these particular brand of crazy to know well enough to stay away? Who are these randoms who, when perfectly good alternatives such as atheism exist, are showing interest in a 'religion' that hails Tom Cruise as its messiah?

Perhaps it's the fact that they offer free refreshments to all that come in and listen. I'm not sure there are biscuits anywhere in the world that are good enough to justify Scientology...

Admittedly, it's not masses of people in there every time, only about 3 or 4 but that's still more than the acceptable headcount. And frankly this Church really should have the decency to be located in a leaky cellar in Brixton or similar. Instead they have a large, well-lit, airy space with widescreen TVs and comfortable looking sofas, on a respectable street in the City.

Surely this is all wrong?

2007-02-08T17:31:00.000Z

A stint of staying late at work last night meant I ended up skipping Ceroc but a cosy session of sitting on my sofa, eating homemade yellow curry and noodles and watching Ugly Betty soon cured me of any disappointment.

Overnight London received the most snow fall it has had in 10 years. Apparently. It looks to me like an average winter day in Indiana but that hasn't stopped it wreaking havoc on the public transport's ability to navigate the seemingly simple task of getting people from one place to another. Still, the back garden was picture postcard perfect, which for some reason makes it all okay.

(Why do I always call it the back garden? We don't have a front garden.)

Today has been an odd sort of day - managed to get a couple of things done and felt less stressed than I have all week, but now I feel guilty for not feeling rushed off my feet. Perhaps the number of inane phonecalls I have had to field is the balancing factor.

Right, off to the gym and then to the house that probably won't be mine for much longer.

*sigh*

2007-02-07T18:08:00.000Z

Now that the guilt of leaving my public post-less for a whole week has overtaken me (and I've had one mildly threatening reminder), it's time to catch up on the news from the last seven days.

After a six month hiatus (and nostalgia prompted by a phone call from JP), I went to a Ceroc class last week and was somewhat relieved to find that I was not as rusty as I expected. The intermediate routine was pleasantly familiar with a syncopated first move, some walkabouts and a double dip.( And no, I don't know the English translation for any of those. Suffice it to say they are quite cool looking.) The instructor wasn't as good as I was hoping for and the geriatric in a cardigan that smelled like old man did put a damper on some of my enthusiasm but not enough to make me want to stop going. Class again tonight, will see how it goes.

A mild bit of standing up by Will Rankin (ex-journalist buddy from the brave old Dubai days who I randomly ran into in Carnaby Street over the Christmas break) on Friday started off the weekend and a gossipy girlie night out with KY and Catherine filled in the gap. A nice bit of doing nothing rounded out Sunday in preparation for what appears to be the coldest week I've experienced in the UK so far.

Speaking of the weather, it's been estimated that it'll snow 10 inches (or some such apparently sensational amount) tonight and people are airily talking about posssibly not being able to come into work tomorrow. In theory, I'm tossing my hat in the air at the prospect of having a shortened week, but then I catch sight of my lengthening to-do list and realise that I am actually already snowed under. (Bad pun fully intended)

This week has been characterised by some of the random meetings I have had scheduled into the social calendar. The Peters, in her infinite wisdom, has hooked me up with a friend of hers who I have unfortunately had to reschedule to next week. I say unfortunately because he appears to be good value and I am loath to have to put off meeting up with him until next week. Still, such is the sadness of life and all that.

In even stranger fashion, last night I had a brief catch-up with a guy who got into conversation with my brother in a bar in Dubai last week and ended up hanging out with him all evening, frequenting such charming and stylish establishments as Scarletts and Cyclone. How I came to be meeting up with him in Covent Garden is a long and only slightly interesting story, so I'll skip it for now.

Jamila, Marc and Austin all visiting from Cardiff this weekend so the homestead promises to be cosy if nothing else. Avenue Q tickets sorted for Saturday night - hurrah for a bit of culture, even if it is the foul-mouthed furry puppet type.

2007-01-30T17:17:00.000Z

Sorry to anyone who follows this blog on a regular basis (you know if you exist) - I have been somewhat preoccupied with the changes at work and impending homelessness so have not been as good as I should at regular updates.

Not that there's been that much to say. Was meant to go to a 30th birthday and a housewarming at the same time on the same night this past weekend. I tried in vain to do both but it turns out Heather lives on a street that does not appear in my A-Z. Then my phone battery died, meaning I couldn't call her for directions. So I stayed at Guanabara and viruously sipped Mojitos for the rest of the evening, then took the tube home at a reasonable hour.

Hurrah for spirits and cocktails and not waking up feeling like something the cat dragged in. (I love that phrase but am curious to know what exactly cats drag in. And why cats? Are they renowned for dragging things in? In where?). A further hurrah for July when smoking gets banned in pubs in England.

Made a conscious effort to get into work early this morning so I could catch up on the surprisingly long list of things I have to do this week. By 'made a conscious effort' I mean that I got out of bed early and left the house about 45 minutes earlier than usual. The tube did nothing but deter me and my good intentions by getting stuck in a tunnel for about 20 minutes.

Making dinner for Mustafa tonight and getting my new phone from him - yay! Lasagna - another yay!

2007-01-24T17:51:00.000Z

Friends 5 list:

Jake Gyllenhaal
Christian Bale
John Cusack
Matthew Perry
Adam Levine

Feel free to laminate.

2007-01-24T13:52:00.000Z

A sidebar about the tube and its tendency to react to any sort of weather like a neurotic Valium-dependent, constantly on the verge of hysteria.

In the summer it's hot so the trains don't run properly, in the autumn there are leaves on the track so the trains don't run properly, in the winter it's cold and it might snow so the trains don't run properly, in the spring it rains so the trains don't run properly.

What planet were these trains designed on?

2007-01-24T13:42:00.000Z

It snowed last night.

Which possibly explains why I was FREEZING in bed last night (the heating normally turns off at 10.30pm and the house is pretty toasty by then).

Had an interesting sort of start to the day, chipping chunks of ice to ensure the freezer door could shut properly and the food within wouldn't go off while we were at work. Apparently Dianne dropped and smashed a bottle of beer after I left so some amount of chaos might still remain when I get home tonight.

Add this to our broken phone-line and the intermittent disobedience from the Sky box and the stove and the homestead is really falling apart these days.

Still, it snowed last night. Proper crunchy snow that didn't melt at first light.

You can imagine the effect the weather had on the tube, so I settled for a bus-ride into Blackfriars this morning, which gave me the chance to take in some of the wintery scenery. The streets were pretty slushy but other parts, like Clapham Common (and our back garden) had a picture postcard quality that I haven't seen in about five years.

Yay!

2007-01-23T17:39:00.000Z

World in chaos.

I should have known when I unwillingly rolled out of bed yesterday morning that this was going to be one of those weeks.

My Account Manager at work (who I really like and who is part of the reason I was so keen to get this job when I interviewed for it) has resigned and will be leaving us by March
A good friend from Dubai who was meant to be moving to London by March/April is now no longer doing so
Dianne has put in a bid for a flat and has won it, meaning she will be moving out and thus, so will I have to, in the next month or two

I was already not looking forward to turning 27 - this is NOT HELPING!!

In addition to all this, I am a broken woman - over-zealous lunging and squatting at an aerobics class over the weekend has left me hobbling around like an arthiritic rhinocerous for the last couple of days, with no immediate end to the pain in sight.

On the plus side, am reading The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie and am really enjoying it.

2007-01-17T19:03:00.000Z

Oooh, nearly forgot the other highlight of yesterday evening!

Before catching up with James, Kristen and I went to some sort of social networking thing - they called it social networking anyway but it had a strong, ill-concealed singles networking vibe to it. The website should have been a dead giveaway from the start but it seemed promising for giggle value - www.thesupperclublondon.com - it was all a bit contrived and too much like a Quintessentially party but worth it for the sake of this one story alone.

Anyway, upon arrival we were given a token for a free drink - which we redeemed to get the house cocktail. Which tasted absolutely vile and which we rapidly spurned in favour of paying for less tastebud-torturing drinks. The conversation at the bar went like this:

Kristen: Hello, we'd like to buy some drinks please?
Bartender: Do you have your tokens?
K: No, we've used them, we'd like to buy some more drinks
B: (looking puzzled) But you don't have tokens
K: Yes, we'd like to PAY for these ones
B: (still confused) Ok, let me go check

Bartender disappears, apparently overwhelmed by the novel idea that people in a bar would be willing to trade money for alcoholic beverages.

Second Bartender: Sorry, can I help?
Kristen: Sure, we were trying to buy some drinks but that seems to have confused your colleague
SB: Oh? Well, what would you like, and do you have tokens?
K: No, we've already used them up, so we'll pay for this round
SB: Didn't they give you tokens at the door? They should have...

First Bartender returns

FB: It's ok for you to have drinks but you'll have to pay for them because you don't have tokens

First Bartender walks away

True story.

2007-01-17T18:47:00.000Z

Today has been an odd sort of day.

James is in London for work this week so KY and I met up with him last night for what should have been a civilised drink in the Covent Garden area. Which for the most part it was, except that I, in my ever-infinite wisdom, decided to go without dinner and drink red wine. Which was fine while I was seated but standing up to leave and go home proved more challenging - especially in high heeled strappy shoes (all the better to show off lovely pedicured toes with). Found I couldn't walk straight (and not just because of the heels), my head was spinning by the time I got out of the bar and in between the deep and meaningful conversation I had with my cab driver, I apparently made several random phone call and texting attempts, for reasons unknown.

All of which implies that I should be feeling decidedly less than average today - but in fact I have wavered between feeling incredibly rough and perking up enough to drink champagne at 4.30 in the afternoon. I am now contemplating whether to risk going to the gym or take the safe route and go home to comfy slippers and the fifth disc of season 2 of House.

(Side note, Hugh Laurie won the Golden Globe for Best Actor - hurrah! I love him!)

Then again, option number 3 for the evening is joining everyone from work at El Vino downstairs for someone's leaving drinks thing.

No, overall, I think Hugh will probably win out.

Anyway, today has been additionally odd because in spite of feeling at death's door for large parts of the day, I have been really productive and checked off all the points on my to-do list. I'm not sure what this tells me about my skills. Or my constitution.

2007-01-16T10:33:00.000Z

A friend sent me this link the other day - I didn't look into it until today and now I am powerless against its hypnotic appeal...

http://www.hentaigroup.com/flash/pirate.htm

2007-01-15T14:39:00.000Z

P.S. Why do changing rooms in gyms always smell so revolting?

I understand the exercise areas being smelly - people sweat in there - but surely the big room full of showers, shampoo, soap and deodorant, where people are meant to be cleaning themselves, shouldn't smell like an escape of sewer gas?

2007-01-15T14:30:00.000Z

This has been bothering me for some time but I'd forgotten about it, then was suddenly reminded of it again when I went to the gym this afternoon - naked women.

Specifically, naked women in the changing room at the gym. I've never thought of myself nor, as far as I know, been referred to by other people as a prude, but I find myself perturbed by all these naked women who think that just because they're sweaty and in a hurry they must strip off and parade around.

So really, the getting naked in order to change clothes I have no objection to - you do have to take clothes off to put others on, I accept that - it's really the walking around. And it's not just the hot girls either - it's any and all of them, young, old, thin, chubby, saggy, toned, you name it, they're all naked. And walking around.

While I'm sure I'm privileged to be a living witness to a scene that most boys spend a large proportion of their adult life fantasising about, I find myself asking why.

Why? Why? Why?

2007-01-15T11:13:00.000Z

Hurrah!

My copy of The Mummy and The Mummy Returns arrived in the mail today.

Mummy Marathon!!

Yay!

2007-01-15T08:58:00.000Z

Another new week and just as little motivation from my side... all thoughts very disjointed at the moment, so I'll just spill them out here and hope they make sense.

Attempted shopping again this weekend - I was looking for a new mobile phone. I bought a black vest top (£7 in the Massimo Dutti sale, hurrah!) . I'm going to have to persevere if I ever intend to get better at this.

In a slight departure from the norm, I choose to do my weekend travel by bus instead of tube and it really does make all the difference in the world for keeping your spirits up. While I know the tube is often quicker (although not always) it really does suck out your soul a little to be cooped up in a tin can underground. The bus is much nicer, especially for trying to get your head round where things are located in relation to each other.

Anyway, after all this bus riding and random shopping, I feel as though Kensington might be my alternative spiritual home - admittedly West Dulwich feels more like an actual spiritual home but it's less easy to get to. You have to examine these things from every angle - sadly I just don't have the income to live there.

Both The Mummy and Jurassic Park were on the Sci-Fi channel over the weekend - I'm never going out on Saturday nights again

The highlight of my weekend was the luxury pedicure KY got me for Christmas. Being ruinously expensive as they are, I haven't managed any sort of nail treatment since I got to London, so I was long overdue for this one. There was this gross but cool tool, kind of like a grater, that they use to trim all the excess hardened skin off your feet - it was revolting but I was mesmerised and couldn't help watching all these layers of skin they were just peeling off. I was convinced the girl was going to hit an artery of some kind but apparently there was just that much disgusting old hard skin on my feet. Eww... Moving along swiftly... then there was a paraffin wrap bit, which I highly recommend to anyone who hasn't tried it yet. They lather up your feet in liquid paraffin (which has the consistency of warm, runny candle wax) and then stick them into these heated sock things and about 10 minutes later they pull it all off and your feet are as smooth as a baby's bottom. All a bit strange, but fab.

Speaking of babies, spoke to Christina over the weekend - she is due in 12 weeks. I am SO not ready for this...

2007-01-11T16:02:00.000Z

By the way, have realised that I’ve lived in England for six months now and have not yet complained about the weather – well, except for complaining that it was too hot in the summer and surely that doesn’t count? – so today might be the day.

Well, comment on rather than complain about.

It has been unseasonably warm in London this winter – well, it’s not WARM but I’m told that it’s usually a lot colder at this time of the year. Today it suddenly got freezing cold and the wind was blowing so hard it actually made me stagger and veer off my path. If it hadn’t been 7.30am, people would have thought I was drunk. That said, this is England, so maybe they still did.

At least it wasn’t raining, because after waking up to an unfamiliar and annoying alarm on the hideous pink phone, I’m not sure I have the emotional strength to battle with my temperamental umbrella as well…

2007-01-11T15:58:00.000Z

I had a particularly manic day yesterday so this post has had time both to fester and to heal.

My morning started reasonably well, even though all Eastbound service on both the District and Circle lines was suspended, because it gave me a chance to walk along Victoria Embankment and get some fresh air first thing in the morning. Oh yes, it helps that I was wearing trainers and the weather was pleasant – I doubt I’d have been quite so grateful for the walk if I’d been hobbling around in pouring rain and high heels.

Anyway, shortly before 10.00am, disaster struck as the battery on my phone dug its heels in and refused to play ball. Although I fairly distinctly remember the time before mobile phones, it’s safe to say that I am now too far along the addiction process to return to that simpler time.

Fortunately, thanks to an office clear-out some weeks ago, I had a spare mobile in my desk drawer. However, it is a Panasonic and it is pink. I have not the words.

On the plus side, my phone packing it in yesterday allowed me to demonstrate a valuable point to those who haven’t worked out why the Apple iPhone (www.apple.com/iphone) is not a practical purchase. Price point aside (because I don’t think pricing significantly impacts brand-loyal purchases), surely anyone can see that bundling all your communication and entertainment devices into one, admittedly pretty, package is just disaster waiting to happen when the battery fails.

Although it took me a while to jump on that particular wagon, most people know how addicted I now am to my iPod. Apart from my Nokia mobile phone it is my most valued possession (and sadly I don’t own anything that cost more than them) but I cannot help thinking how lost I’d be if I had both of them packaged together and then had the battery blow on both simultaneously.

On a tangential note, for those who might be interested: http://www.greenpeace.org.uk/contentlookup.cfm?CFID=6369840&CFTOKEN=37764706&ucidparam=20060825113025&MenuPoint=D-C - I like to mix it up, keep it fresh, you know, keep the body guessing when it comes to where my brand loyalties lie on the conscience scale…

2007-01-09T08:55:00.000Z

This weekend I went on a shopping mission. I was looking for the following:

Duvet Cover
Pillowcases
Towels
A full-length mirror

After about six hours of shopping I had purchased the following:

Black strappy shoes
A handbag
Underwear
A black v-necked jumper

Clearly my shopping skills surpass those of mere mortals...

2007-01-05T13:12:00.000Z

I just took a call from someone at the Farmer's Union who was ringing here in hope of locating a farmer. This follows fairly closely on the time my colleague Margarita took a call from a woman at a supermarket who was apparently 'following up on her message about the pumpkins'.

It appears many people in England have an erroneous grasp of what PR agencies do...

2007-01-04T14:09:00.000Z

P.S. Credit to Ian for an explanation of why the times on these posts are not as they should be:

Your blog is hosted by Google, based on the west coast of the US and with an 8-hour time difference. That's why the posting times on your blog are out.

Perhaps this kind of superior knowledge of the intricacies of the technology industry goes a long way towards explaining why he has a much nicer house and car than I do...

2007-01-04T13:42:00.000Z

Places afar, plans afoot.

Well sort of.

As part of my resolutions for 2007, I've been giving thought to where I'd like to travel this year - so far the diary contains a trip to USA in order to cock an eye at Baby Neukam (exact city TBC), to visit Toosy in Boston and to give New York the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with the adult Lakshmi.

In September I've pencilled in the Scorza/Wade wedding and if I don't make it home to Dubai at some point, there might be some sort of disownment involved with la mamma. That and my fingernails might just fall off from N-Style manicure withdrawal symptoms.

With all those in mind, it doesn't seem to leave much time (or budget) for any additional destinations, but thanks to Tiina (and Ryanair), a long weekend in Finland is sounding like a good solid prospect. Or at least it was, until Cam sent through pictures of Moscow (and his beautiful apartment) and now I find myself uncertain about limiting 2007 travel to solely one additional city.

While we're at it, does anyone else have cool ideas about where I should go? Since everyone who knows me is aware of my stellar decision-making abilities, I figure I might as well get as many elements into the equation as possible - you know, just to keep it exciting.

On a tangential note, why does everyone seem to have a nicer house than me? I used to think my place was quite sweet until I saw what I was missing. Admittedly the places I'm thinking of are those belonging to friends slightly older than me - but surely a few years and significantly better jobs shouldn't cause this kind of differential?

D'oh!