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:

• 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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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...

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

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...

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...

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.