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.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Pretty and popular again
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...
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...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
2008 and beyond
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.)
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.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Sweetie darling
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 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.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Last (wo)man standing
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Tsk Tsk Tsk
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
La dolce vita (and other Italian desserts)
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:
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.
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
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.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Some rocks and a hard place
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.
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.
Monday, July 30, 2007
You can't take the sky from me
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.
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.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Closure
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?
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?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Cultural experiences of all sorts
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?
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?
Monday, July 09, 2007
Weather and deep-ish thoughts
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Desired by many celebrities
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
If the name fits...
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.
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.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Back on the chain gang
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Sandlands, you gotta live it everyday
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Notes from a sandy country
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The speed of sound
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:
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.Monday, May 14, 2007
Golden jubilee
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Dingoes ate my baby
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.
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.
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