Happy news!

My friend Suzie had her baby last night - all went well and she had a waterbirth at home. All went SO well in fact, and SO quickly at the end, that despite a mad rush to get there, I missed the birth by 9 minutes. Damn and blast! But running up the stairs only to see Suzie already sat with little Joseph in the pool, both looking somewhat shocked, was amazing. He's so gorgeous. Well done and congratulations to you both.

For those who are not so interested in babies and the like, you may instead find this rather fascinating. I sure as hell did.

Still poo-free...the gorgeous little darlings.

Proud mummy

Last night was the first poo-free night with the kittens! I'm so excited. So nice to be able to pick them up and cuddle them without worrying about getting poo on my clothes or to have to chase them round with a damp piece of cotton wool trying to wipe their bottoms or to have to mop the floor every morning...

Please keep your collective fingers crossed that it's permanent!

Night of a thousand poos

Firstly, let me tell you that I now know what it sounds like when lightening strikes a spot just a few yards from your flat. The answer is: extremely bloody pant-wettingly loud.

Secondly, yesterday morning heralded a two hour cleaning session to remove kitten poo from pretty much every surface of the flat. Bless their little furry socks. Rudy has diarrhoea and left a trail, in a similar vein to Hansel and Gretel, that showed exactly where he'd spent his evening. Then at some point, the kittens somehow shut themselves in the bathroom (i.e. far away from their litter tray) and...no, I'm not even going there. Suffice to say that tiled flooring and close proximity of a shower are truly a blessing.

Furry babies

Ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen: meet Rudy & Gertie. They are 11 weeks old brother & sister and are currently chasing each other like crazy around the flat!

They were donated to the Mayhew Animal Home when they were about 3 days old and have been there ever since. Now they've come home to Weybridge and I hope they'll be happy here next to the lake. I mean, what cat wouldn't be?

My sister is going to kill me. She reads this blog so: Sorry Jen. She's allergic to cats and didn't want me to get one, but then again she does live in Yorkshire...

They're gooooooorgeous.

Sleep is for wimps

Well, the rose-tinted spectacles I've been wearing for the past 3 years at work have finally slipped and I'm seeing the cold, grey, light of day peeping above the rims. It's been a bloody nightmare for the past month or so and I'm now officially exhausted. I mean, I'm not pretending that I've enjoyed every single day for the past 3 years (6 if you count my training) but overall I've still been able to say 'yes, I do really love my job!' with a smile on my face. Now, the smile is more of a grimace and the best I can manage is 'it's alright...'

Ah, it'll pass I'm sure. It's just that boring office politics happens in the midwifery world too and staff shortages are...well, I'm sure you only need to read the Daily Mail* to get an idea of how bad they are. Now I'm the boss (ha!) I'm being dumped on all the time and I'm fed up. I would like to have a weekend off. Or even a day off. No chance sister.

Oh stop your bleedin' moaning.

*Not that I'm suggesting for a second that you actually would

The question is: does he do children's parties?

Canvassing opinion

So here's the thing. I was chatting to a friend of mine today, Abby, on messenger (she's currently living in Koh Samui - yes, yes I know I have the most glamorous friends) and we got to talking about life frustrations an' all. You know: work; money; men. The usual. She suggested that I'm in a perfect position to go and do a bit of travelling. I mean, I'm single, own a nice flat which would rent easily and should cover the mortgage, have transferable skills. I countered with the fact that I'm actually a bit of a scaredy cat.

But the more I think about it, the more I think it might - just might - be a good idea. To be honest, I probably wouldn't go and work as a midwife abroad (too many variables in the job which, along with a high level of responsiblity, I'm not sure I fancy much) but as long as I could cover the costs of my flat here with rent (which I should be able to do - just - I reckon) and I could earn enough doing bar work or whatever to live on abroad, it might be do-able.

So. What do you think?
a) Should I do it (or at least look into it seriously)?
b) Where should I go?
c) What should I do when I get there?

Comments please...

Ahoy!

Wow! Amongst all the fab presents I got for my birthday - gorgeous bracelet, DVDs & CDs, beautiful flowers, jug/vase, Come to Denmark Ladybird book, Hairy Biker's Cookbook, jug with Weybridge coat of arms on it, Cath Kidston designed picnic backpack and many more besides - my dad & step-mother Jackie bought me a boat. Yup, a real life beautiful wooden rowing boat, which they bought from eBay and have spend the last couple of weeks doing up. It's amazing and am so chuffed I can't begin to say. So much time and effort has gone into it that I'm really touched, quite aside from the fact that I clearly now have the nicest boat on the lake! I couldn't resist a quick jaunt out before I headed out for dinner this evening:


I'm just off to pick up Mole and Badger...

Isn't it fantabulous? If you've over this way and fancy a tour of the Broadwater, I'd love any excuse to take it out!

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear meee, happy birthday to me...

Great Danes

...and so I had a lovely time in Denmark with my cousin. They live in the northern part of Jutland, in a tiny, two road town called Ørsø. Very rural. I'm talking 'walk over to the next farm to buy eggs, only one shop in the village' kinda thing. They have two bedrooms, one of which is normally their son Benjamin's, but which (unbeknown to him) he kindly offered to me. This meant, gawd bless 'em, the whole family were squashed into one room for the week.

It was an action-packed week, Camilla had lined up some cool visits for me. For example, we went up to see the birth centre where she had her daughter. I chatted to a couple of the people working there and we talked about work-load etc, whereupon I was told that they had around about 130 births. A month? I asked. No, I was told rather incredulously, 130 a year. Just to put this into perspective for you, my unit back home does 4,500-5,000 per year. There are no doctors there and they have two birth rooms, both with pools. Women and their partners can stay for up to a week following the birth and the food is fabulous and plentiful, as it is all over Denmark. Hmmm. I offered to learn better Danish and come and work there too. Because the weather was so good (it's ALWAYS good when I go to Denmark. I'm beginning to think the climate is somewhere akin to Antigua), we also popped over to have a quick dip in the sea in order to cool off. We paid a visit to one of Camilla's ex-boyfriends (also named Jesper) who is now married to one of her best friends, and who lives on a pig farm. Well, this is Denmark, after all.

On that note, I was disappointed to note that, once again, I came back from Denmark unable to speak the language fluently. Okay, so I suppose one week is not really long enough to learn a language but goddamn it I really feel like I ought to be able to speak this one. Very annoying. I did my best, and picked up a fair bit more than before I went, but still. Gah, as my friend Lisa might write. Maybe I'll go and live there for 3 months or so, that should do it.

Camilla and Jesper have two of the most gorgeous children around, Benjamin & Josefine. To Benjamin, I suspect that I remained 'that weird woman who stole my bedroom and talks funny', but I think I managed to win over Josefine, who, at 16 months old, wasn't that fussy about whether or not I spoke the same language as anyone else as long as I could feed her and help her put her wellies on. It was Benjamin's 4th birthday while I was out there and he had a party with some of his friends from Nursery. The cake was a damn cool giant Danish pastry (known as Weinerbrød in Denmark). The children sang Happy Birthday to him in English, which was fascinating because of course they had absolutely no idea what they were singing and, as a result, some of the words sounded a little odd. But then, I suppose, it's a bit like us learning Frère Jacques by rote...


On the Saturday evening the neighbours came over to throw an axe. That's not a metaphor. I had seen a large target out in the back garden and had idly assumed that it was for archery or something. But in fact, it was for the old Viking art of chucking axes, which is harder than it sounds. They're heavier than you think and to actually chuck it hard enough, and high enough, to get it to spin and hit the target is pretty bloody difficult. My first few efforts were disappointing - thought I should point out that several other members of the party couldn't hit the target either so I didn't feel too stupid - but, as I'm not a quitter, I kept on at it (long after everyone else had buggered off) until I managed to hit it bang on. Then I quickly stopped while I was ahead. I ached for several days following that. Then we played an old Viking game called 'Cube', which was like a cross between cricket, boule and quoits. We played boys vs. girls and although I hate to, ahem, boast, we thrashed them.

I brought my iPod over to Denmark with me and I showed it to Camilla and Jesper one afternoon. They couldn't believe how many songs you could fit onto it - my iPod is actually over four times bigger, memory-wise, than their home computer - and when I showed them my iTrip and began playing my songs wirelessly on their ancient kitchen radio their jaws hit the floor. They got the neighbours over to show them too! I thought for one horrifying moment that I was going to be burnt at the stake as a witch.

Oh one more thing. All week, I saw the kids watch telly precisely once. The rest of the time they were outside playing. Denmark has half an hour's children programmes every evening, between 6pm & 6.30pm. The one night we watched it, it was a Swedish programme called 'Emil' from 1972 (along the same lines as Heidi I suppose), about a boy who lived on a farm with HILARIOUS consequences, which the children watched rapt with attention. It was 25 minutes long and so when it finished, there was still 5 minutes of children's time left to go. So what do you think they showed to fill the time? Five whole minutes of someone stroking a parrot. Seriously. You have no idea just how long 5 minutes is until you have watched someone stroke a parrot for that long. I laughed so hard I thought I'd break something.

My cousin gave me a lift back to Aalborg station for my journey back to the airport, which because of the connections and the fact that it involved both a train and a bus, meant I got to the airport about 3 hours before the plane left. I'd thought that it would be okay, I'd have a wander round the shops. I arrived and looked on the flight board to check the flight was on time: well that was easy, since my flight was the only one left that day. Okay. So, time to hit the shops. Or should that in fact be 'shop'. Three minutes later I'd been there done that and now had 2 hours 57 minutes to kill before I flew... And I'd finished my book. Thank goodness for the iPod and The Geoff Show podcast I say!

Keep The Faith

I went to see Bon Jovi in concert last night at Milton Keynes National Bowl. Perfect weather for it of course, particularly given that doors opened around 3.30pm and you had to get their early to bag your space. There were ALOT of people there; around 70,000 if rumours are to be believed (and are they? Don't ask me, I'm a hopeless judge of crowds. I just know it was BIG).

Nickelback were supporting and they were excellent but the spectacular set only came into its own when Mr. Jonathan Bon Jovi Esq. and his boys came on stage. It sparkled and danced, whirled and entertained all on its own, which was just as well, given that - as you will no doubt note - the band might was well have been a bunch of performing ants for all we could see. The sun, not wishing to be outdown by a mere stage, also decided to put on a little performance of its own as it set.

Now, I've never been to a big stadium-style gig before. I'm much more used to turning up at the Shepherd's Bush Empire an hour or two before the gig, grabbing a pint of watery coke and trying not to stick to the floor all night. So, you can imagine, that this was a new experience for me. Also - and this is where I have to be careful not to come across as snobbish or elitist in anyway* - the clientele was a little different to my usual fayre. I am a dedicated people watcher at the best of times but this really was the most amazing fodder. Nuff said. You were not allowed to bring food or drink into the arena, other than SEALED bottles of WATER no larger than 500MLS - we brought four since it was so bloomin' hot - and the refreshments provided were ridiculously expensive, naturally.

Now think of how many people were there. If I tell you that between the two of us, we spent a total of £102 - £70 plus £10 booking fee for tickets, 4 beers, 1 Coke, 1 Calippo and a portion of chicken & chips - you can imagine how much money they must be making. And we didn't even buy any merchandise!

I think my favourite part of the evening was something that highlighted a modern phenomenon. When the old favourite Living on a Prayer came on, the view of the crowd in front of me suddenly looked like a million fireflies had appeared. It took me a moment to realise that it was in fact thousands of camera phones being held up...

I was supposed to have gone along with my friend Suzie, who originally bought the tickets, but she is quite heavily pregnant and has been really ill so the poor love very reluctantly handed me her ticket as she thought being stuck in the middle of a large crowd rocking out in a field whilst she was copiously vomiting was probably not the best plan. So instead I went with David, which meant that we got seats in the disabled enclosure and had our own toilets. Result! There really are advantages for the disadvantaged...

Now, here's the confessional: I'm not really a huge Bon Jovi fan. That said, I think they've done much for the rock scene over the past 20 or so years and not many bands have the staying power that they've shown so you gotta give 'em credit. They adopted Rock God Stance (legs wide apart and slightly bent: check. Upper body tilted slightly back: check. Orgasmic grimace: check) after relentless Rock God Stance and cheesed their way through hit after hit. Jon has aged terribly well and actually came out for the encore wearing an England shirt (last season's, I should point out) which made the crowd - bunch of footballing types that they were - go wild, so bless him.

There were three Norwegian girls behind us - clearly of the sapphic persuasion - one of whom was in a wheelchair and had 'Keep The Faith' tattooed on her arm. At the first note of Living on a Prayer, she was helped to stand by one of her companions and she then proceeded to blub her way through the rest of the concert. Aaahhh, you're probably thinking. Well I'd have had more sympathy if she'd SHUT THE HELL UP throughout the rest of the performance rather than jabbering away excessively loudly, nineteen to the dozen with her friends and blowing smoke in my bloody face.

How many of you have I lost now?

*and will no doubt fail

I'm in love. Seriously. You have to try this; it's amazing. I always knew their chocolate souffles (anyone know how to get an e with an accent over it without cutting and pasting from Word?) were fantastic but now they've moved their choco-expertise into the ice-cream market...well. And what's more, it comes in the coolest little polystyrene box - cool being the operative word. I just left mine out for the past hour and it didn't melt even one little bit.

Roll on summer picnics...

You put your left leg in, your left leg out...

So what exactly is it, do you suppose, about my left leg? This morning I woke up with an additional four - count 'em - bites, this time around my left knee. Terribly itchy. The buggers.

Three more bites - left ankle this time - and counting...

So Bland the Con of Man

Did the Da Vinci Code thing. Had to be done. It was just what I expected: ok.

When I read the book - before much of the hype fortunately - my friend Rosie told me that I'd probably really enjoy it, but I would hate myself for doing so; I knew exactly what she meant. You felt like you were being manipulated on every page and I wanted to rig up some sort of sound effect button so at the end of every chapter I could go 'Da da DAAAHHHH...' Hmmm. That might not come across. Anyway, I actually thought it was written like a film script so I was unsurprised to find that the film worked quite well as a thriller, if you like that kind of thing. Which, generally, I don't. Thought Audrey Tatou was underused and just came across as a bit petulant to be honest. Ian McKellan was the best thing in it.

Have discovered the downside to living next to a lake: the insects. If I leave my window open of an evening, the place is stuffed full of them and boy! do they like me. I suppose I should be flattered, but I woke up with 9 bites the other day and it's hard to take that the right way. The strange thing is, the bites were nearly all along my stomach, right where the waistband of my pyjamas were, not to mention the duvet that was on top. Maybe they took pity on my sad, single status and were just trying to snuggle with me.

My television blew up the day before yesterday. Well, to be honest, it's not even my television, which makes it worse of course. I've been borrowing it from my dad & stepmum while to try to save up for one of my own (proving harder than I thought - this 'owning a flat' business is bloody expensive) and the other day it suddenly went BANG! and the picture died. The sound is fine, strangely. Any ideas? Worth getting it repaired or would it be prohibitively expensive? I need to get one of my own anyway so maybe I should just bite the bullet and buy one, there seems to be loads on eBay but too much choice leads to much indecision, I usually find. In the meantime, I have a 14" portable that I've put in the lounge which is fine, as long as I remember to bring my binoculars...

So: any makes I should avoid/seek? Any features you find are indispensible?

The Web Co-operative

I love a good podcast, me. And they don't come no better* than The Geoff Show, which is the most consistently fabulous show on radio. For example, a couple of weeks ago they did a podcast-only broadcast, where they discovered that if you put cheap white wine through a soda stream, it tasted just like the very best champagne. Tomato soup was less successful. Just so's you know. They also have 101 phone-in topics (listed on their website) which include: 'I work in a photo developing lab and guess what I once saw', 'Shop names/road signs/people's names that make you sing a little song in your head' and 'Inanimate objects which you can't help putting on your head or wearing in some way'. Tonight they mentioned that they are starting a 'web co-operative' where, if you link to their show from your blog (check), mention them in a posting (check) and then inform them (check), they'll link to your blog from their website. Coolerama.

They also have been discussing the following legal quandry: if a conjoined twin was found guilty of committing a murder, but the other twin had nothing to do with it and was found innocent, what kind of sentence (if any) could they expect?

Answers on an e-postcard please...

*You just can't tell I'm from Surrey, can you?

Wonderful Wonderful Dronninglund

I'm off to Denmark! I'm going for a week next month, when I was just going to be arsing around on annual leave anyway, to visit my cousin Camilla and her husband Jesper. I shall also get to finally meet her daughter Josefine and see her son Benjamin for the first time since he was 6 weeks old. Cool. And the best bit? The total cost of the flights came to a whopping £22.

Taking orders now for stinky Danish cheese and flaeskesvaer...

Did you see this? One of those 'watch through your fingers' moments. Oh the look of shock/horror on his face when they announce his name...

Crack open the champagne...

...dust down the chandeliers and give me a leg up onto the back of a Polo pony; I have finally joined the ranks of the rich and famous and got myself a Gold credit card. Oh yes.

It all started when I received a letter from Virgin (boo! hiss!) telling me that the rate on my current card was being increased to 25%. What?! I only have a fairly modest balance on there - by most people's standards anyway - a balance I'm trying at the moment to clear completely, but at that rate it was going to take me forever. I also have one other credit card with a much smaller balance with my wonderful bank, First Direct. I decided to take the advice of the most excellent Martin Lewis, at Money Saving Expert, and called First Direct to ask them if they'd cut my rate. They said well, no, but given that you earn so much money (yes, the secret's out, I am the only person the NHS pays a FORTUNE!) we can convert your card to a Gold card and then we'll give you a preferential rate. That will do nicely. I've now transferred my balance from Virgin so they can stick their 25% right up their...

Lake Perry Como; or Three Countries In One Day; or How To Come Back From Switzerland With Your Bag Zipping Up The Other Way Round

So Sunday morning my friend Suzie and I, deeply glamorous couple that we are, flew off to Milan. We landed in Bergamo and picked up the hire car I'd, erm, hired. I was the Tour Manager - as the blog name suggests - and had done all the booking, printing off of confirmation numbers and vouchers, took care of the passports and boarding cards and arranged for transport at 5am to Stansted (thanks Dad!). All went smoothly, natch. I drove us to Como (via Lecco in case you're interested, rather than taking the less interesting route via the motorway. Yes, more risk of getting lost but hey, we were in no hurry). Como, as many have since informed me, boasts George Clooney as one of its inhabitants and no, before you ask, he hadn't asked me to stay. This time.

We arrived in Como and called Linda (my friend/former student/client and mother of the baby - Chiara - being Christened), who informed us she and her boyfriend were having lunch with several couples who had flown in from England and we headed off to join them. During a meal featuring the best pesto I've ever had, Linda mentioned that Paddy and Anita, a couple from Australia living in England, were thinking of going to Switzerland. How lovely, I ventured, how long for? Oh just for a quick drink! came the reply. Huh? Where is Switzerland then? I asked. Oh, about 20 mins that way... Why not?

So after a long-winded attempt to find our hotel (Como, despite the best efforts of the Tour Manager with my usually excellent sense of direction, is a one-way tangle of a nightmare) which involved an urgent stop off to pass water in a highly unsuitable and unpleasant location (I'll leave that story there I think) we ended up meeting up with the lovely Chris & Sue, also staying at our hotel, and driving over to Switzerland. Three countries in one day. I'm practically American.

Switzerland was lovely and very picturesque as you can see. We went for a nice walk in a park and had a drink at a bar. I had to get some Swiss Francs out as we only had Euros - what fabulous looking currency! At some point I went to put something in my bag and to my dismay, the zip came off in my hand. Damn. I really like that bag (Clarks, would you believe?) and spent the rest of the time in Switzerland fiddling with it, trying to repair the damage. If anyone's ever tried to force a zipper back onto a zip, you'll know just what a futile experience it can be. So imagine my surprise when I attempted to be inventive and try fitting it on the opposite way it usually zipped and voila! (or the Italian equivalent) it slipped on a treat. I used the bobbin pin that I keep tucked inside the inside pocket of the bag for adjusting my windscreen washers (yes, I really am that person) to secure the dodgy end and the bag was as good as new. Practically. Still throws me when I try to zip it open but I'll get used to it I'm sure. Back to Como for a meal, although what with it being Sunday night and us not actually heading out till 9.30pm, we found it difficult to find a restaurant to accomodate us and ended up going to the only restaurant in Italy that microwaved pasta dishes for us. Hmmm.

The following morning was the Christening. We followed Linda to the church and sat through the service which was, naturally, in Italian, so we had no idea what was going on and just followed everyone's cues as to when we were supposed to sit/stand/kneel. I swear to God that at one point the priest said something about 'Joe Pasquale'. Suzie agrees. The church was elaborate, as all good Catholic churches must be. Chiara was very good when the priest tried to drown her and merely looked mildly surprised, as though this wasn't quite what she had planned for today, but hey, why not? The weather was lovely and we milled around afterwards whilst everyone fussed over Chiara, looking very pretty in her pink dress, and who eventually got a little bored of us all.

Afterwards we went to the church hall for a little light refreshments and chit chat. Linda's brother is a chef and had prepared a little bit of food...and then some. What a spread! Parma ham on the bone and a huge hunk of gorgeous parmesan, as well as lots of antipasti and little bits of, well, all sorts of stuff. Yum. Lots of Sicilian wine (I had orangeade). Also a chef outside deep frying little bits of artichoke, courgette and even courgette flower in batter, which was absolutely delicious.

When we'd eaten and drunk our fill the English contingent headed off to Como, as Linda's niece was being Confirmed - we couldn't take any more kneeling/standing confusion - and Suzie and I decided to head up the funicular railway to see the view. Very nice indeed. Back to the restaurant where we had the fab pesto for dinner - hey, if it ain't broke?

Back home on Tuesday morning. Boo!

Has anyone got any kirby grips?

I was just driving home with my friend Sophie after a lovely night out in Kingston (Gourmet Burger Kitchen followed by Carluccio's for after-dinner teas) and as we were travelling down Queen's Road from Hersham towards the roundabout by Sir Richard's Bridge (for those of you who know the area), we saw a baby deer leaping off the road and into some bushes. We think it might have been a monkjack deer, though heaven knows what it was doing there...

Inevitably, we went all gooey.

Jet setter

My lovely Italian friend Linda - formerly my student and subsequently my client when she had her daughter Chiara last year (homebirth in the bath) - called me last week and mentioned that she was off home to Lake Como, as Chiara's christening is being held on May 1st. She said that she realised that it was unlikely that I would be able to come but that I was invited if I fancied it. Yeah, cheers.

A couple of days later, my friend Suzie called me on the way home from work and asked why we weren't going to the christening. 'Errrm, because it's in Italy?' I ventured forth. 'And...?' she replied. 'Well....but....errrr....' 'Sod it, let's go' she said.

So, a bit of internet booking later, we have two flights to Milan on Sunday 30th, twin beds in a hotel in Como and a hire car. Cool! Just to top it off, Linda called me on Sunday to make sure we brought our summer wardrobes, since it was currently 30 degrees in Como... Hurrah!

Oh What a Wonderful War of the Worlds!

I've just returned from the Albert Hall, which tonight saw the rather extraordinary spectacle of Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of War of the Worlds. It was great. Firstly, the ticket I bought from eBay, which, as I mentioned below, arrived by the skin of its teeth this morning, was the perfect seat. I was sat directly opposite the stage, on the back row of the stalls (which are...I'm not sure of the correct term actually - you know where each row is slightly higher than the one in front? I want to say variegated but this is clearly wrong). Thanks goes to Mick, the nice guy I bought the ticket from, who is currently in Algeria.

The show was a strange mix of concert, stage show and film. To the right of the stage was a full string orchestra, to the left was a 'band', for want of a better phrase, consisting of four keyboard players, each with a bank of keyboards, several guitarists as well as percussionists. In the middle was Jeff Wayne himself, conducting. To the top left of the stage was a giant head, which was - through use of clever technology which I last saw being pioneered at the Elan Valley visitor's centre in Wales - a giant Richard Burton's (well, someone who looked like him) face, lip synching to Richard Burton's original voiceover. Hmmm. Bit hard to describe that one...

Various performers, including the legendary Justin Heyward - who sang in the original as you may remember - and Russell Watson (he of opera-for-football-fans fame) came on and sang the various song bits, doing a bit of 'performing' whilst they were about it (Russell was particularly good at the 'falling over repeatedly in a demonstration of how close to death he was' acting).

Behind the orchestra was a huge screen which showed a CGI film complementing the action as described by the music, so lots of martians, red weed and people running away and being blown up and the like. About halfway throughout the first act, a huge model martian (at least, I assume it was a model) descended from the ceiling and landed on the stage in a pure Spinal Tap-type moment, which remained there for the duration of the show. Impressive though it was, the slight disadvantage of this was that it blocked the centre of the screen. Doh!

Anyway, though it all sounds a little odd, I will admit, it was actually a brilliant and triumphant show, which captured the spirit of the original soundtrack beautifully.

Tudor was also at the concert, sat up in one of the boxes; bit of a long story but basically his ticket was his last birthday present from me. We are clearly the only two people we know sad enough to want to go... It was really nice to see him and, at the interval, he told me all about the sound desk and the speaker system. I told him I'd missed sound talk! He said thank goodness, because the person in front of him didn't seem that bothered when he'd tried to explain it to him. Apparently it was when he began drawing diagrams that the guy really lost interest... Anyway, he filled me in on all the latest gossip (and how!) and he absolutely loved the show, so that was good. I had so wanted to get him something I knew he'd really love so nice to see I'd hit the mark.

PHEW!

Post has just come and my War of the Worlds ticket came with it. I've never been more relieved...be still my beating heart...

Big Bowl Four Treasure Frog

I know I'm tired, but tears...rolling...face...

Fingers crossed please...

I bought a ticket for War of the Worlds at the Royal Albert Hall on Tuesday 18th April on ebay last week - am desperate to see it so very excited and it involved some down-to-the-wire bidding - but have discovered that it was sent out to me on Thursday morning via First Class post. Didn't arrive this morning so next post is Tuesday, i.e. the day of the gig. If it doesn't arrive then...well I'm buggered I suppose. The guy I bought it from apologised for having forgotten about the Easter weekend and has assured me he'll refund my money if it doesn't arrive in time but now I'm so worried...

Have just worked through the night with a particularly challenging client - well three clients in total but the first was a terribly lovely and obliging 16yr old who had a lovely birth and the second I (shamefully) barely saw because I was prioritising the first girl while she had her baby and then, just as I finished with her, the third - a known crack-user who was having her fourth baby, having had the other three fostered, (as was the plan for this baby) - was admitted in labour by ambulance at 35 weeks pregnant. So, my night was not exactly a quiet one and I had to literally BEG for help from my 'colleagues' on the labour ward. Why are they so deliberately obstructive? By the time I managed to hand over to my team mate, for whom I'd tried to field calls all night so I had someone fresh to hand over to in the morning, it was already 9.30am and I was beyond tired... So no Easter weekend for me, as I'm back on call at 8am tomorrow morning and will undoubtedly have more challenges ahead. As I've just taken over as the co-ordinator of my team (yes, a promotion, yes, more responsibility, no, no financial recompense. Dontcha just love the NHS?) it's all ultimately my problem nowadays.

I must love my job, me.

Asteroid Shower

Last night I went for dinner with my friend Guy in Kent for his birthday. As we were preparing to leave, it started snowing - big fat wet snowflakes that even began to settle - not actually because it was cold enough but because they seemed to be so bloody-minded that the formerly wet conditions didn't dare argue. When the two friends I was giving a lift home to and I got in the car to drive home, we found that as you drove towards this snow (and wherever you went, it seemed you were driving right into it), the effect was similar to suddenly going Warp Speed - big white streaks stretching from us to infinity, that were strangely hypnotic. Rather like driving into a huge white hedgehog. We crawled along at 20mph, with me gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and trying desperately to stay within the confines of a road that I couldn't actually see the boundaries of. We stopped at one point to get petrol and a guy in the queue behind me said 'Bloody hell, eh? It's like being on the Millennium Falcon, isn't it?!'

Hans Solo eat your heart out.

Hurray!

Just had to share my joy at the magnolia trees coming into bloom today - they're so beautiful and they make me very happy indeed. Sad that it's so short-lived...

Punk rocks

I've just been to see the Stiff Little Fingers - just plain ol' Fingers to those in the know (which is not me by the way) - with my friend Suzie as part of our 'as many gigs as we can fit in before she gives birth' campaign. Both Suzie and I are rock fans, although Suzie is definitely on the punk rock side, whilst I'm, as you are probably already aware, firmly on the progressive rock side. This is actually my second punk gig in a month, having also been to see The Buzzcocks a few weeks ago. On both occasions, due to Suzie's expectant status (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it), we have managed to secure seating in the gallery - at the Buzzcocks gig this was in fact on a very comfortable sofa. Lovely.

This meant that at both gigs we had an excellent view, not only of the band on stage, but also of the crowd below us: The Mosh Pit. Now given that I have only just lost my punk gig cherry, the mosh pit has been a source of complete fascination to me. In fact, at both gigs, I spent more time watching the moshing than the bands. It's just so violent! It looks like a huge brawl and I just thank my lucky stars I'm not down in it. But then, on the other hand, the more you watch it, the more you realise that there's obviously a 'mosh code' to which they all abide, and it is (largely) good-natured. I mean, when someone falls over (not an uncommon occurrence) the four or five people around them automatically help them up - then start shoving them over again, of course. And everyso often, you will see two people facing each other, pushing, grimacing, head-butting and gripping each other's arms in what looks like the beginnings of something nasty, and then 10 seconds later they're hugging and all smiles. It's very strange. There's obviously some songs that set it off more than others - when the first few chords of one of these particular songs began, Suzie would turn to me and say 'Oh watch them now, they'll go mental' and sure enough, a few seconds later frenzy ensued. Occasionally someone would appear to rise above the crowd - never quite saw how it happened, it was almost ethereal - and surf along, legs and arms akimbo, until the bouncers at the front of the stage picked them up - tenderly, the way you'd carry a small child - and escorted them past the front of the stage and then released them back at the side of the venue, allowing them to run back round and get straight back into the mosh pit and repeat the process. We saw one guy do exactly that 7 times in a row. Anyway, when Suzie offered to take me moshing one day once the little 'un's born, I politely declined. She asked me if you ever saw a bit of moshing at Marillion gigs and I pointed out that you sometimes get some rather vigorous nodding and, rather than have someone flick lit fag butts at you (which I witnessed this very eve), you might risk getting slightly warmed by the end of someone's pipe. But no actual moshing, no.

On the way there, by the way, we saw Nicholas Burns (aka Nathan Barley) and the AWESOME KG from Tenacious D, both just walking down Oxford Street. We even followed KG for a while, but couldn't bring ourselves to speak to him - whaddya say?

I'm just watching 'Take My Mother-in-Law', which is where a family replace the wife/mother with her mother for a week or so. This week it's about a Geordie family and not only is the husband the most obnoxious pig I've EVER seen in my life - a rude, arrogant, bullying little prick of a man - but I can't understand a bloody word he's saying. I've had to put the subtitles on.

Boing...*

Thank goodness the weather's looking up! And, now the clocks have gone forward, it's so nice to find it's a bit lighter in the evenings. Went up to Yorkshire at the weekend - nice to see the family (hi guys!) - and it was even warm up there. I was boiling in my goosedown coat.


Did I say I have a new car? Here it is. It's lovely. It's nice to be back in a Volkswagen and not to have to worry about spending the GNP of a small country on petrol every month (not to mention the insurance & tax). Don't get me wrong, my Saab (Thor) has been absolutely brilliant and just what I needed over the past year, given that I've moved four times and bought shelves, chest of drawers and wardrobes a-plenty. But now I need something cheaper to run and the Polo is ideal. It's got very low mileage and full service history, runs very well. Pretty impressed with the 1.4l engine; to my surprise, she's a bit of a goer! Okay, so it's got a few bumps and scratches from the previous owner and the passenger door is a bit reluctant to open pending a bit of jiggery pokery but the nice thing is it means I don't have to be worried about it. Plan is to keep it till it falls apart. Only thing I need to sort out now is a name. Any suggestions? The number plate, in case it inspires you, is BJM, which is great for two reasons. Firstly, it stands for the British Journal of Midwifery, which is very appropriate, and secondly it looks a bit like BUM, which is very funny. Or is that just me...?

*A clever reference to spring springing.

Last night I went to a gig with a bunch of doctors - not my usual choice of bedfellows but this lot were jolly nice - and some of their non-doctor friends. As is usually the way with gigs, it was very loud and while I was trying to have a conversation with one of the non-doctor members of the group, due to a combination of ill-timed head turning from both sides and open-mouthed shouting, I accidentally bit his nose.

ALSO

I've just spend the weekend doing the ALSO course - which for those of you not in the know (and why would you be?) stands for Advanced Life Support in Obstetrics. It's for midwives and doctors (or anyone else who's prepared to pay £400) and is notoriously hard work. I'm bloody shattered but I passed with somewhat flying (or at least hovering steadily) colours, so that's nice. I actually really doubted that I'd passed the written exam, because it was very very hard (although a multiple choice exam so at least you had a 1 in 5 chance of getting each question right) but it seems I knew more than I thought! The practical was pretty good and I got 100% (yes I am showing off. Wanna make something of it?) after doing a ventouse delivery (all by myself! Imagine!), then managing a shoulder dystocia and a subsequent post partum haemorrhage. Anyway, it was all good fun and they've (unofficially as yet) asked me to come back and train to be an instructor for them (no, it's not paid), so that's nice. I think I probably will, if/when I get a formal offer.

I really want to sleep now (even though it's only 9.15pm) but may - for long-winded and boring reasons I won't go into here - have to go into the labour ward tonight and work through...bloody hell I hope not. I'm not fit for anything after all that...

Anita Roddick sells out

I was horrified to hear the news today that Anita Roddick has agreed to a takeover of The Body Shop by L'Oreal. Unbelievable. Aside from the appalling track record L'Oreal have in terms of animal testing - something you'd think Anita Roddick would be most concerned about - but they are also owned in part by Nestle, one of the world's most unethical companies. What the hell is she thinking? How will she be able to sleep at night? I suppose the £130m might just soften the blow, but if this goes ahead I for one will never be shopping in Body Shop again.

Bet she's terrified now...

The value of good service

Last night I went to Waitrose in Hersham to buy some salmon to cook for a vegetarian (alright alright, pescatarian) friend. Never cooked salmon before, though had been given some tips from a friend at work, so asked the nice man behind the fish counter what he'd recommend and how much I'd need for 2 people. He offered me some nice organic stuff, asked how hungry I thought we'd be (answer: very) and gave me two steaks of appropriate size. Then he asked how I planned to cook it (in foil with olive oil, white wine and dill) and what with (new potatoes and asparagus), which he said sounded lovely. I asked him if he knew if there were any creamy-type sauces I could have with it and he left the counter to come and show me what they had on the shelves. He then took me round to look at the fresh herbs and we selected some lemon thyme which might be an interesting alternative to dill (it was). He then asked if I'd be interested in making a sauce myself (I was) so he said he'd go and check out some recipes on Waitrose.com and then come and find me. He came back with two alternatives, a cucumber and dill sauce and a hollandaise, which he explained would go particularly well with asparagus (it did). He then went back to the fish counter asking me to come back and tell him how it went, saying I'd be welcome to ask for more fish tips anytime. His name was James. That is why I shall henceforth always shop in Hersham Waitrose.

Just heard on Radio 2 that the police in North Wales are cracking down on children throwing snowballs, after a teenager involved in a snowfight was charged with assault. Thank God they are FINALLY taking this snow brutality seriously. I have it on good authority that children, all over the UK and almost certainly abroad also, have been systematically manufacturing these weapons - innocuously dubbed 'snowballs' by these reprobates - with the express purpose of HAVING FUN. It is clear to us all, I'm sure, that this MUST be stopped. Alongside those who take pleasure in 'sliding' on puddles of ice and forming the ubiquitously sinister 'snow angels', these sickening degenerates have enjoyed their reign of terror for too long.

Just keep walkin'

I just went to see The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes with my friend John. I've never walked out of a film before, but half an hour or so before the end of the film I realised that if I sat there for just one more minute of that mind-numbingly pretentious wank, I'd scream. Or die. Or most likely, die screaming. And later, the nice people at the Renoir cinema would have to peel our dessicated corpses off the astoundingly uncomfortable seats in order to allow the poor suckers who were destined to unwittingly pay good, honest, hard-earned money to see the 'film' the following day entrance.

Please don't let it be you.

Big News

On Tuesday, I went to Salsa. I have been moved up to the Intermediate/Advanced class. I am struggling. Still, my lovely neighbour Alistair, who I go to the class with, is also in the I/A class and has been taking me through things slowly and repeatedly, so bless him.

In other news, my friend David is in hospital at the moment and has been very ill indeed, having had major surgery at the beginning of the week and subsequently been in intensive care for a couple of days. If anyone out there prays regularly (unlike the heathen that I am) then I'd appreciate a couple sent his way. He has a fantastic scar which practically bisects his entire torso, currently held together with staples so he looks like something out of Hellraiser. Very cool. I've reassured him that Chicks Dig Scars and he can tell them it's a (very neat) shark bite.

My Darkplace

I've just downloaded a few episodes of Garth Marenghi's Darkplace from Limewire: if you never saw it Shame On You. And don't come the 'ooh downloading programmes illegally, eh?' card with me; I'd buy the DVD if it had come out yet, I am merely whetting my appetite for the day it's released. Anyway, I couldn't get episode six for some reason, so I went a-hunting on t'interweb to see if I could find it there. On my travels, I came across a forum discussion about the new Channel 4 comedy series The IT Crowd, which stars Richard Ayoade, who is also in/directed Darkplace. I've watched a couple of episodes of it, it's alright but a bit disappointing given that it's got a great cast and is written by Graham Linehan, who wrote Father Ted. The forum discussion I found had several people complaining - I swear to God - that there wasn't enough actual IT in it.

Speechless.

My efforts. Not perfect, but it's harder than you think!

Tremendous stuff.

I know it's happening, but I'm powerless to prevent it. I'm trying, really I am. But slowly, but surely, I'm turning into my mother.

What is it that makes me want to talk to strangers? When I see someone at the checkout at the supermarket with some nice pudding on the conveyor belt, why do I want to tap them on the shoulder and say 'Oooh, I'm coming over to you for dinner tonight!'? Why can't I help myself asking some poor unsuspecting waitress where she got her shirt, because it's really nice and the cut looks great on her? What possesses me to embarrass the mumbling teenager in WH Smiths by asking him if he knows he's got beautiful eyelashes?

Of course, I know exactly what it is that makes me do it. It's what my mother always did, whilst I squirmed with embarrassment next to her, amazed that she couldn't see how inappropriate it was. But nowadays, I see it all so differently. Why not? Why not tell someone that they have a pleasing facial feature or good taste in clothes/food? Why is it so bad? Surely, SURELY, it's a nice thing to do?

I can't help myself.

Oh dear.

Turnabout trailers

Have you seen this? It's a newly cut trailer for The Shining, which turns it from terror-fest into a heartwarming family film. It won a competition and has since earned much recognition via t'interweb and spawned many other amusing efforts from bored editors. This one is pretty good, this one isn't bad either. But here's my favourite of all time.

Hoff Magic

Probably the best video ever.

Salsa to Sleep

My word, this bed is bloomin' comfy! It's like sleeping on a cloud... My tip? Buy a cheap 13 tog hollowfibre duvet - I got mine for £8 at Tesco - and put it on top of the mattress (under the sheet). It adds a drop of sheer luxury for next to no cost! A similar mattress pad at Ikea would set you back £60 for a double, £80 for a king...

By the way, has everyone discovered MoneySavingExpert? Brilliant. Sign up for their weekly email and you'll save yourself a bomb. Martin Lewis is the guy who does all the financial legwork for you, then passes on his wisdom so you can get the best deal on mortgages/insurance/credit cards/utilities/phone bills - you name it. Plus it will let you know about current good deals on things like DVD recorders or TVs. What have you got to lose?

I went to my Salsa class last night - it was packed! A whole load of new beginners and I, three lessons in, have now moved up to the Improvers class. I'm told (she said feeling just a little bit big-headed) that I'll be in the advanced class in no time at all... It's funny, every week between classes I think to myself 'It sounds so naff, going to Salsa classes. It is a bit naff actually. Maybe I won't go next week' and then when Tuesday comes around I drag myself off, telling myself that it's better than going to the gym, and find I really enjoy it! I mean, when you watch two really good Salsa dancers together, the whole thing is so fluid, they seem to ebb and flow around each other, and I look at them thinking: I want to be able to do that! The women, no matter what their size, shape or age, ooze sensuality and the blokes ain't too bad neither! This week I had a new instructor called Ben, who was...Chinese?...and had been Salsa dancing for 15 years. It's amazing how easy it is to dance with a good partner. If they lead you, you effortlessly follow, producing moves you had no idea you knew how to do! As someone who's always considered themselves, well, if not having 2 left feet exactly, then a pretty uncoordinated dancer, it's gratifying to be able to twist and twirl your way around the dancefloor. So I think I'll keep it up for now...

Lord of the Bedroom

My lovely friends Linda and Karl bought me a bed for a housewarming present (for those who got me a plant or a candle then don't feel bad, I was also their midwife when their beautiful daughter Chiara was born a couple of months ago so they were being extra-specially nice) and brought it round on Sunday. Unfortunately, it turns out that Ikea sell the slatted base that the mattress goes on separately, so I couldn't make it up and use it then, so I had planned to go there yesterday to buy that myself. In the morning, I thought I'd just check and see if there was anything else I might need and discovered that Linda & Karl had only picked up box one of two! So had to go to Croydon via Wandsworth to get the receipt (which Linda had to fish out of the bin) so I could go and get the second box. They didn't have the slatted base I wanted in stock so had to get the more expensive one. Managed to get it all in the car, along with all the incidentals I picked up along the way which came to about double what I had estimated. Why does that always happen at Ikea?

Spent last night making it all up - it took HOURS! Supposedly the bed was a two man job, so thank goodness I'm a woman! A bit of clever jiggery pokery resting the various bits on boxes and so on and I managed to get it all together. Then the slatted base. Well bloody hell. Short of planing the wood myself it couldn't havebeen more difficult and because it had some fancy make-the-bed-firmer-or-softer bit in the middle it was really bloody complicated. The instructions, unusually for Ikea, were hopeless, they made no sense at all. I basically made it up as I went along. Seems to work though! So finally, for the first time since the end of November when I moved in, I got to sleep in a proper bed last night!

No one can say I'm not trying. As well as going to Salsa dancing lessons on a Tuesday night, I've just joined a book group. I'll have a good time if it bloody kills me.

Gay Cowboys Rock!

Anyone who knows me well knows I have a fondness - a weakness if you like - for a bit of boy on boy action. So it probably won't come as a surprise to you that I saw Brokeback Mountain today. Woooah boy! That is one sexy fillum, full of my very favourite blend of long lingering looks, a deep rooted passion/denial continuum and some rather explicit sex scenes between two gorgeous blokes. Yum. I must admit I was somewhat taken aback to see an elderly indian couple sitting in the next row - maybe they thought they were going to see Jarhead?

Hello again...

I'm back - again, I guess. Just can't keep away now, can I?

Oh how I'd love this blog to be all about giving you the odd little amusing tit-bit that allows you a little insight into my lovely life but sadly, I just can't do that anymore. Instead, I'll have to content myself with saying what I've been up to and a little of how I'm feeling - very sorry if it's too morose for you! I don't even know if anyone is going to read this anymore anyway but there's something cathartic about it for me...

So here's me at the moment, some good some bad:

• I have moved into my lovely flat (yes, the one I was about to lose when I last posted) - hurrah! It is just as lovely as I hoped, it really is. It's very small but I do relish getting up and pottering around in my own, clean and tidy (ahem) flat, looking out over my beautiful view (it's over the Broadwater Lake in Weybridge) and spotting as many different birds as I can. Who'd have thought I'd turn into Bill Oddie?
• My divorce from Tudor has been finalised. Yes, it was all very quick (Tudor's wish). I feel just awful about it but nothing I can do. If there were, I would. I can only hope that things will get better one day.
  
• I've finally got broadband! That's why I'm back etc. etc. And it's WIRELESS too, so don't I just feel like the cat who got the proverbial.
• Just been on holiday to Lanzarote with my Dad, my step-mum, Jackie and her mother Gisela. No jokes about saddos in their 30s who go on holiday with their parents, thanks. We were all ill - me with a cold that I've STILL got and have had since 27th December, the bugger - but Dad was the worst and ended up being admitted to hospital whilst we were out there with the beginnings of pneumonia and (don't laugh) gout. Not connected but both occurred simultaneously for sheer convenience. He was told to give up smoking, red wine and red meat, which he did...for a whole day. Way to go Dad!
  
• Christmas was bloody awful. Really really awful. Well, that's unfair, Christmas Day was really rather nice, thanks to my friends Phillip and Zoe, who rescued me from spending it alone by inviting me over. But the Christmas period was just the worst I've ever had and far worse than I thought I could be. When you go from being someone who enjoys the whole thing thoroughly to being someone who finds themselves sitting on Christmas Eve with the phone in one hand, the number for the Samaritans in the other, crying so hard you think your eyes might fall out, it's bound to shock you a little. I saw in the New Year sobbing in my sister's bathroom too. Well, I guess next year's can only be better...
• All this means that I have a very flexible social calendar at the moment so if anyone fancies getting together for a drink, I'm pretty sure I'll be free. Try me!
  

Just for the record

A bit of a break from my usual policy of steering away from anything too personal today. Sadly, my divorce from Tudor has taken an unexpected turn towards acrimony. Despite having made an agreement several weeks ago that we were going to divorce amicably without solicitors, and having agreed a financial settlement, Tudor has now instructed a solicitor and it looks like he's backing out of the financial settlement we agreed. This means I am almost certainly going to have to pull out of the flat I'm buying, which, as I've already moved out of the flat I've been renting a room in, leaves me homeless at present. This action is, apparently, due to the fact that an anonymous friend of Tudor's has been reading my blog and has told him that I've mentioned David and have been boasting about my 'new wonderful life'.

Just for the record then, I thought I should fill you in on my new wonderful life, which consists mainly of:

• Crying for a large proportion of my time, sometimes so hard I think I'm going to be sick
  
• Finding the guilt of how this has all come about almost impossible to live with
• Painfully missing Tudor and so many aspects of our 12 years together
• Discovering the delights of insomnia for the first time
• Finding it increasingly difficult to drag myself out of bed in the mornings/early afternoon
  

Probably a jolly good thing I don't drink I reckon, or I'd have daily hangovers to add to the list. As it is, the constant feeling of nausea and vague panic I'm suffering anyway will suffice.

Sorry to be a whinger, been trying hard to put a brave face on it all, which is why this blog has clearly given the wrong impression about how great, or otherwise, I'm feeling. Have a feeling just writing this will make Tudor more angry. Well, I don't suppose I can win either way. Anyway, despite recent events, I still intend to do everything possible to make sure this divorce does not turn into a fight. I don't see how either of us come out winners if that is the case. So out of respect for Tudor, and a desire to minimise the damage, I shan't be posting for a while guys.

I have a little sign that I carry around with me at the moment, which rather aptly says 'This would be really funny if it wasn't happening to me'.

Well good Lord, so much has happened recently. London came under attack and we at Charlotte's were put on 'high alert' for unplanned homebirths with people who couldn't make it into London hospitals, although we didn't have any. Well, I didn't anyway. And then David and I went to my dad's villa in Lanzarote, Blue Marlin, for a week, which was very nice indeed. The weather was fabulous and I managed to get the best tan I've ever had. Shall post one or two pictures as soon as I get round to downloading them from my camera... The week was however slightly marred by me being ill, as is always the way when you get some time off work, isn't it? It was a real pain actually, as it was just one thing after another. Started with a cold developing the day before we left (just on its way out now), had one night of indescribably painful heartburn (for the fourth time this year, despite never having had it before. Why? Is it just something that goes with being over 30?) then culminated with a lovely stomach bug, which hit me hard on the plane on the way back - not really the place you want it to happen, as I'm sure you'll agree. It was definitely a bug rather than a foody thing, as David developed it two days later. Then, to top it all off, they lost my suitcase on the way home. My own fault of course, as I was standing by the carousel explaining that I'd never had any baggage go missing at the time... Anyway, it turns out they'd sent it to Amsterdam by mistake and, although they know that, they still haven't managed to get it sent back to me, despite reassuring me daily that it's now at Heathrow and should be with me by the afternoon... Beginning to get a bit desperate now as it contained all my pants (so I'm having to do a nightly wash, which is pretty irritating) and, far more importantly, all my make-up. For those of you who know me well, you can imagine what distress this is causing me. Thank God I've got a good tan and an emergency mascara but still... Amazingly though, despite all that, the holiday was still pretty good.

While we were away, the survey was done on the flat I'm buying, which came back all good, so it's still full steam ahead, thank goodness. And the mortgage has officially been approved too, talk is for a completion date sometime mid-September so fingers crossed everyone!

Finally of course, the big news of the week. The release of the sixth Harry Potter book. We were away when it came out and scoured the whole island to try to find it but no luck, so on our return on Friday morning we ran out to buy two copies. I finished mine a day and a half later. Now, obviously, for those of you who have yet to read/finish yours, I shan't post any spoilers but SWEET BABY JESUS AND THE ORPHANS. I laughed, I cried, I cried again. Worth waiting for, but the resultant wait for book seven, which will undoubtedly be very different to all the others, given the ending of book six, will be AGONY! Please email any theories/insights to me direct, in order to avoid giving anything away here...

Salad In 'Delicious' Shocker

I've always considered salad to be some kind of punishment for all the nice food I really want to eat. I'll eat it, sometimes it even tastes okay, but, come on, let's face it, it's not the most exciting of foodstuffs.

But then came Spinach, Watercress and Rocket Salad. Drizzled with olive oil and - and this is the real secret - balsamic vinegar.

I can't get enough of it. I've eaten it every day this week. And REALLY enjoyed it.

Marillion Rocks!

I had two tickets to see Marillion - my favourite band as you are probably aware - on Thursday. I asked several people if they wanted to go with me but, for various reasons, no one was available to come with me. And no, it wasn't that they all thought they were rubbish, stop being so rude about my boys. I had asked David if he would come but, as a gentleman rather more partial to the blander side of the music scene (e.g. Jamie 'like listening to a slice of white bread' Cullum), he said something about rather eating his own spleen. Eventually however, when it became apparent that I would be rocking out on my own, he agreed to come along, under duress, to keep me company.

The concert was fabulous and I sang my little heart out. Which of your so-called modern-day popular beat combos would do a full-on gig followed by TWO encores with a total of SIX songs? Pah. You can keep 'em. Give me Steve Rothery looking like he's having an...ahem...rather pleasurable experience whilst playing his exquisite guitar solos, Mark Kelly, dark and brooding at the back, like an evil warlord secretly surveying his minions, Pete Trawavas bounding around like a hobbit on speed, Ian Mosley so laid back whilst playing extraordinary complicated drum fills that he looks like he may be finishing off a particularly nice tapestry at the same time, and of course H, filling the room with his presence and impossibly pitch perfect with every single note he sings ANYDAY.

Just before the last encore, David leant over and said "ok, you win. I will never take the piss out of them again. I'm converted." He then spent the yesterday wearing his newly-purchased Marillion t-shirt and asking when the next gig is.

In your face!

And so the spending begins

Been a day of sorting out stuff for the flat purchase today. Who to get to do the conveyancing? The cheapest (who are in The Wirral and I know nothing about)? The closest (so I can go down and shout at them if it takes too long)? The one who's been recommended (who is a bit on the pricey side)? Well, I went for a bit of a compromise. I went for one who is nearby to the property, been recommended by the estate agent and isn't TOO pricey although not the cheapest either. I'm hoping that the additional £200 or thereabouts gets me a fast and efficient service: hahaha. We are talking about solicitors here, after all...

Oh and I totally forgot about the additional costs on the mortgage - arrangement fee and of course the survey (going for a Homebuyer's) so that's another £660 pounds to find from, oh, I don't know, somewhere. Brilliant. I have to hold true to the thought that it will be worth it in the end.

Then I called the bank and had a heart-stopping moment as they discovered that the last quote I had (the one where I asked them to lend me a laughingly large amount of money and they, to my amazement, said yes) had not been 'put on the system'. This meant they had to go back to the person who decides about whether to lend laughingly large amounts of money to poor midwives and make the decision all over again. After answering a series of increasingly personal questions, they decided that I COULD have the laughingly large amount of money after all, which was very very nice of them indeed, thank you. Phew.

So, large amounts of additional cash to find notwithstanding, it looks like it's all go on the flat front, which is great news.

Birthday wise, I did very well again this year, so thanks to all my friends and family who chose so well. For example, I got a new stethoscope from my sister Toni, which I've been using today and is jolly nice indeed:


Yes! You ARE alive!

From David I got the most gorgeous bracelet (about which I'd dropped some unsubtle hints, like "that's really nice, that would make an ideal birthday present") and a fantastic canvas print from Habitat that I've had my eye on for ages, which will look really lovely on the wall of my new flat I reckon. On the day, we visited St Paul's Cathedral - fantastic, if you've never been, make the effort and go right to the top where it looks like this:


Londinium: 2005

Then we went to the Tate Modern, followed by a lovely meal on the Southbank, where a passing saxophonist was bribed by David to play Happy Birthday to me. Aaahhh.

Breaking news...

It's my birthday today! And, even more excitingly, I just spoke to the estate agent who told me that my offer on the flat has officially been accepted!

I'm moving back home...

Yippee!

I think I've got it...

I'm - very tentatively - celebrating this weekend as it looks like my offer's been accepted on the flat. Should know for definite on Monday as the people I'm buying from are looking at couple of places but the estate agent says it looks - very cautiously - as though we're full steam ahead. So I would like to take this opportunity to invite you - very hesitantly - to have dinner at mine whenever you fancy it... [looks to the sky and asks that nothing bad happens, particularly seeing as it's my birthday on Monday and it can't go wrong, just can't, wouldn't be fair, I love this flat so much, please please let it be mine]

YAY! I can hear the start of the thunder and I LOVE thunderstorms, particularly when the weather is hot and sticky.

I love the Japanese.

Nice/nasty continuum

Twiglets are great. They really are, I can't eat enough of them at the moment. Oven baked too, so don't feel too bad about it.

Have a nasty habit of bursting into tears at the moment, quite without warning. Happens to me in the car rather a lot, particularly when songs on the radio remind me of my current situation, and, embarrassingly, today it happened at a conference, where I nigh on drenched my trousers during one of the lectures. Thanks goes out to those friends seated next to me who discreetly passed me tissues.

The weather is LOVELY. I love hot weather, so shut up everyone who insists on moaning about how 'sticky' it is. For Christ's sake, we only get a hot day once every 10,000 years in England so when we do, stop your bloomin' moaning. As far as I'm concerned, there is no bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.

Had my first offer on the flat rejected, as I suspected I would, so have upped it slightly and am waiting to hear back. Can't really afford to go any higher so hope they'll see sense and let me have the flat which is, by rights, mine already I reckon.

Small child turns 18 and scary stuff happens

Afro Ben hits 18

Spent the weekend in Yorkshire as it was my nephew Benj's 18th birthday. 18?!?!?! My God, I remember him as a tiny tiny baby...oh well, that's not exactly true as he was nearly 10lbs at birth so in fact he was huge even then. Anyway, we had a nice meal at my sister Jenny's house in order to celebrate his coming-of-age. He's learning to drive and I made him drive me to my sister's house, which was surprisingly unscary.

Tudor and I met up on Monday and I'm very sad to say we've decided to go ahead with divorce proceedings. Can't really think of anything else to say about it, you can probably imagine what I'm feeling about it all.

Slightly nervous about even typing this, as it all seems a bit unreal and grown up, but in the name of 'moving on', I've just put an offer on a flat that I saw a while back and absolutely loved. I thought it would have long gone, but apparently they had a buyer which fell through so it's back on the market and I didn't want to let it go again. It's in Weybridge/Walton borders and in excellent decorative order which is good, because if I get it I won't have enough money to do anything with it! In fact, even getting a bed or a fridge or something to sit on will probably be impossible at first, but I reckon it's worth it. I'll just camp for the first few months...! I know what you're thinking - it's a bit far for work isn't it? - but I certainly can't afford anything in London and it's really not that far. I'm not often travelling in the rush hour so I can do the journey to work in about 30/40 mins if the road is clear, not much further than getting to Battersea! And I have a bit of an urge to go home, with all that's happened. So now we just wait to see if they accept my offer, which is a bit below the asking price and if not...well I'm not sure what I'll do. So fingers crossed for me please. If I get it, I'll invite you for a housewarming do. You might just have to come one at a time though, as it's only lickle...

Good luck to my sister Jen, who after SIX long years is doing her final exam today which will complete her law degree. Trying to do a degree at the same time as working, being a single mum and moving - not only to a new house but from the Surrey to Yorkshire - must have been damn tough and I haven't envied her a bit! But Jen: it's nearly all over...

I know I've sent you here before but go on, humour me, have another look, it really is my favourite website. Obviously if you have an objection to laughing at foreigners...well, then you won't be my friend.

Problems with my comments

I've recently been having a strange problem with my comments server. For some reason I can't fathom, I can't open the comments box from my home laptop. I emailed those nice people at enetation (who run the comments server) to see if they could help and received an email response from a nice bloke called Jonathan (Hi Jonathan!) who, in addition to trying to sort out my comments problem, has also been advising me on the best way to get over a broken relationship. Bless him. Alcohol and action/comedy films are the way to go apparently...

Work-wise things are going well, I've got a new partner called Emma - who was very nearly poached from us by the private midwifery scheme at work until we all kicked up a fuss and Emma chose to stay with us (hurrah!) - and on Friday morning two of my women had lovely waterbirths within a few hours of each other. Sadly I missed the second one due to being asleep after my all-nighter with the first woman (don't worry, my colleague Mel was there instead!), but it's nice to keep my stats in exemplary order...

I must go and remove the box of Fudge's Cheese Straws from beside me, before I eat them all. Probably too late actually, there are only four left. To be honest, I do prefer the Chedder Wafers, and only yesterday found out how gorgeous the Stilton Wafers are too. I can't recommend them highly enough, so if you have yet to discover these delightful crumbly cheesy treats then off you go to Waitrose/Sainsbury's this very afternoon to rectify this... Mmm mmm mmmmmmmmm...............

I know I'm a rubbish blogger

Despite my best efforts to blog regularly, I have a habit of turning around (not literally - I'd get dizzy) and realising it's been a month. That is BAD. And if there's any way I can make it up to you, please let me know. I do have good excuses, been a busy month, but nothing I wish to go into here I'm afraid. Sorry for being coy... *bats eyelashes*

In an act of contrition, here are some things I've enjoyed this month:

• Some lovely births - most memorably one of my girls who had a 10lb baby with no more fuss than it takes me to put the rubbish out
• Speaking at the Royal College of Midwives annual conference - all went very well and I felt very grown up in a skirt and heels playing with powerpoint
• Listening to The Coral's new single In the Morning, which always puts a smile on my face
• Discovering a very very smelly cheese called Epoisse: damn good
• Seeing my old college mate Martin Freeman become a bonafide star with Hitchhiker's and his own show on Radio 2, even if he did turn me down when I asked him out (many many years ago I hasten to add)
• Watching Derren Brown rub his face in glass, put a plastic bag over his head and stop his pulse, and completely cock up one of his tricks on stage at Woking
• Got a new phone as a free upgrade and free bluetooth headset, both rather natty I reckon
• Finally got my iPod sync'd with my laptop (oooh get me!) and updated all my playlists
• Sitting on Wandsworth Common with my friend Linda in the beautiful sunshine and remembering what Summer is all about

On a sadder note, my sister's dog Jack died a couple of days ago. He was no spring chicken but he was very cute and he will be sadly missed by the whole family.


Jack: RIP

Talking to the animals

David & I paid a visit to Whipsnade Wild Animal Park last week, which was very nice, if a little windy, but I can hardly blame them for that. The penguins smelt of fish and the lions were very scary. Cost a bloody fortune to get in! So if you are planning a visit, I recommend cutting down on life's little luxuries for a month or so in preparation.


They say 90% of men have tried...

I popped up to Yorkshire this weekend to show off my car and give her a good run: she was GORGEOUS by the way. What a lovely smooth ride she is... Anyway, It was lovely to see everyone and Barney has recently acquired two mice, named Lucifer & Beelzebub, who are very cute indeed. Behold the Princes of Darkness:


Gimme five!


What do you mean, do I make you feel like dancing?

Tasty little swedish number

So the big news of the week is that I've gone and got myself a car. Well, I'd had two scooter accidents within 1 1/2 months and was beginning to wonder whether if the thing about bad things happening in threes was true and, if so, whether I'd be lucky enough to walk away from a third... Plus I'd really like to be able to trundle up to Yorkshire a bit more often. So started looking at cars. As I was going past a Saab used car specialist, with no intention of stopping, I happen to see a rather lovely looking black 900s Coupe on the forecourt for a very reasonable price indeed. Intrigued, I stopped to take a look and ended up going for a test drive. Well, I was so impressed with the smooth drive that, after doing a bit of insurance research and doing my sums, I went back the next day and bought her. I love her very much indeed. Brief spec for those who are interested: 2.3l engine, power steering, electric windows, alloy wheels, 10 CD multichanger and very nice Sony stereo, full service history (mostly at the garage where I bought her), brand new clutch and battery, engine you could eat your dinner off. Drives like a dream and, though I say it myself having never been that interested in Saabs previously, looks like one too. Been a bit of dispute about the name though. I (jokingly at first) christened her 'Thor', as she is Swedish and black as thunder. However, I have been reliably and reasonably informed that I cannot call her (for all cars, as you know, are female) Thor and that technically I should call her by the feminine version of that name. Which of course is Thora. Quite different connetations, I think you'll agree.


Thor. Or Thora. You decide.


Does my bum look big in this?

Anyway, I'm now driving around as much as possible and enjoying every second.

By the way, just bought the Kaiser Chiefs' album, which is storming. Thoroughly recommend it.

Who Should You Vote For?

Yesterday I was sent a link to a site which gives you a series of questions about tax, immigration and so on and then, after asking who you expect you will be voting for and matching your replies with actual party policies, it makes a suggestion about who you should vote for in the next election. Here are my results:

Who should I vote for?

Your expected outcome:

Liberal Democrat

Your actual outcome:

Labour -18
Conservative -25
	Liberal Democrat 44
UK Independence Party -5
	Green 27

You should vote: Liberal Democrat

The LibDems take a strong stand against tax cuts and a strong one in favour of public services: they would make long-term residential care for the elderly free across the UK, and scrap university tuition fees. They are in favour of a ban on smoking in public places, but would relax laws on cannabis. They propose to change vehicle taxation to be based on usage rather than ownership.

Take the test at Who Should You Vote For

Interesting, huh? I'm just so relieved it didn't tell me I should be a Tory...

In other news, I'm on two weeks annual leave at the moment and have done pretty much bugger all so far. There are definitely things I should be doing but frankly, I just want to slob out while I can. I was, as is inevitably the case when you have some time off work, ill for the first few days with a nasty gastro bug and I'm only now beginning to eat properly again. But it's now half past twelve, and I'm still in my PJs. So sue me.

A tentative return...

Hello everyone. Firstly, although I can't believe there's anyone who doesn't already know, let me explain why I haven't blogged for...well about 3 months now. The short version is that I split up with Tudor in January so it seemed somewhat trivial to think about blogging. I also didn't want to air our dirty laundry in public, as it were. Tudor never liked me blogging at the best of times - he didn't really get it and found it distasteful that anyone could read what we've been up to - so I didn't want to upset him any more than was strictly necessary. But as things are settling down a little, I thought I'd start it up again, tentatively of course, and let you all know I'm okay. Which I kind of am. I'll not be getting too personal, don't really think that's fair on anyone, but I'll let you know if I've been up to anything really interesting!

For example. Two weeks ago I had a bike accident. Classic story, I was coming over the brow of a hill, saw someone waiting to pull out from a side road at the bottom and something told me that he was about to do something stupid so I began to slow down, although, with hindsight, not enough, obviously. Sure enough, just as I approached him, he pulled out and I had to brake hard to avoid him. I'm not sure if he just didn't see me, or thought he just had enough time to pull out before I reached him. Well, I would have got away with it if it hadn't just started raining pretty hard and the road surface, which was newly laid, was obviously pretty slippy. As soon as I touched the brakes the bike slipped from under me, leaving me bouncing down the road at 30mph. The driver in question drove off (I hope for his sake) oblivious. I was lucky, nowt was broken, but I did have a nasty gash to my chin - thanks to the shoddy behaviour of my Roof Boxer helmet which I urge everyone to shun - which took 3 stitches, although I was investigated for a fractured jaw at first, which put the willies up me I can tell you. Other than that, just grazed knees and elbows. Thanks to all at the West Middlesex A&E which was great. Anyway, I'm now on the mend, stitches are out and the gash is healing very very nicely, as you can see:


HIDEOUS. But the scar isn't too bad...

And last weekend I went to a wedding where they had, in addition to a spit roast pig AND a spit roast lamb, a chocolate fountain:


A chocolate fountain. A fountain of chocolate. A FOUNTAIN of CHOCOLATE

As I still had my stitches in at that point, I had several comments to the tune of "Excuse me, but you've got some chocolate on your chin..."