Brookie

Yesterday, my mother & I took a quick trip on Concorde. Not that it left the ground, you understand, but it was damn good nevertheless.

Brooklands Museum has one, 30% of which was actually built there, and they've done a really good job with it. You buy a boarding pass and meet on the transfer bus for a briefing, then up into the cargo hold (tiny!) to see some information about Concorde's history and the story of this particular vessel. Then, you pass up through the cabin where there are original seats from the 70s, 80s and 90s/00s, before taking your seat at the front of the plane and experiencing a full take-off and flight experience (lasting 10 mins!) . Very good indeed and surprisingly emotional.

The rest of the museum is well worth a visit too. To my delight, I got to sit in one of Ayrton Senna's F1 cars although I am sorry to report that my hips are obviously wider than his were. A fact that the (rather advancing-in-years) museum assistant was not slow to point out, in some detail in fact, even going as far as to speculate on my dress size. Which he got wrong. The insulting way. He then tried to guess my weight, which he also managed to get spectacularly and not-a-little humiliatingly wrong. Hmmmm.

Nifty gifty?

That's it, I've bailed out. I'm sorry, I know I've let you all down, but I just couldn't hack it anymore.

I've gone back to a litter box.

Basically, a combination of Rudy's pathological fear of any kind of hole in the disc over the toilet and refusal to use it if he discovered one (or, worse, choosing alternative locations) and his penchant for trying to bury his litter to China, resulting in litter and - let's be frank - poo all over the bathroom floor every day has meant that my patience has finally waned. I'm not saying it's not a great idea to toilet train your cats, because it is, and if it was just Gertie I'm sure she'd be well away by now but Rudy's such a bloody wuss. He's sat on my lap as I type this but it's okay, he can't read. But honest to God, you should have seen the mess this morning.

Not that I've gone for any litter box. There are so many plastic monstrosities on the market - I tells ya if I had my time again I'd start up a company that produced nice and stylish products for pets rather than cheap-looking tat and stuff covered in cartoon cats and dogs that are clearly supposed to be cutsey but are actually horrendous beyond belief - but I don't want my flat to be a shrine to the cats (sorry - bad mummy) so I've gone for something a bit more...well, maybe you should decide. It looks at first glance to be an ordinary (possibly slightly rubbish) plant pot and (not too bad looking) fake plant but no! Inside is a cat toilet. Rudy took to it straight away and peed in it within minutes.

Now be honest. Is this actually quite cool, or is it unbelievably naff? I can't decide, but I think that I think it's quite a nifty solution. Either way, eBay truly is a goldmine for the weird and wonderful.

Time in a Bottle

As you may already be aware, this is one of my favourite songs of all time. Just so's you know, in case any of you are still hanging around by then, it's what I want played at my funeral. Yes, of course this version.

Russian Roulette

I like to play Russian Roulette. Not with guns, because they're illegal and I don't know where to get one, much less fire it, and I'd probably get arrested. Although if I did it with guns then I'd have to do it on telly and become famous and Derren Brown would want to meet me and obviously we'd fall in love and get married and have lots of lovely beardy children and live in a house full of stuffed animals. Sigh.

But instead, I like to play Russian Roulette with food. Every so often I'll forgo my usual brand of whatever and buy the 'basics' 'value' 'savers' 'no frills' version and see how it does. When it works, finding you only have to spend 13p on a can of chopped tomatoes in the future can be immensely gratifying. This week's purchase was Sainsbury's Basics Corn Flakes. For the record: nasty.

Did you see Baby Faced Bodybuilders on BBC3 tonight? Now I knew that body builders have long used fake tan to 'highlight' their muscle definition but it seems that nowadays they just look like something out of the Black & White Minstrel Show. You'd think the PC brigade might have something to say about that.

Very nice news indeed

Congratulations to my dear friends Sarah & Andy who had a beautiful 7lb* baby girl at home in their kitchen on Tuesday. All went very well, and the midwife was absolutely brilliant apparently...**

They've just got to name her now, because the nickname she had during pregnancy, Little Barry, doesn't seem quite so apt now.

*'medium-sized' according to Andy
**well, it was me, so of course she was

Well of course NOW it works...

Thanks Silas!

Legacy

I've just rediscovered Mansun - no, not Marilyn Manson - but the wonderful popular beat combo from the late 90s who made some really rather excellent records. I have, happily, managed to find one of my all-time fave songs/videos on You Tube. Watch it, quick, before it's removed due to legal discussions about copyright laws... Then download Wide Open Space from whichever is your preferred music source because it's mint, or rad, or book, or whatever the young people are saying these days.

(All you html dudes out there - why will Blogger not allow me to embed videos from YouTube on here? It keeps saying the tag isn't closed. What bloody tag? In fact, it always gave me this error message in the past but went on to publish it anyway - Blogger Beta (or whatever we're on now) won't publish it at all. What do I do?)

Winging it

It's Friday night, so obviously I've been sat in by myself watching Green Wing - I've found a place on t'interpipe where you can watch them all for free, yippee! - and am genuinely alarmed by how much Alan Statham reminds me of me. Apart from the obsession with sex of course. But otherwise: uncanny.

To sleep perchance...

When I happen to mention to other cat owners that I shut my cats out of the bedroom at night, they tend to look at me with a piteous look and make noises that are supposed to make me feel like I'm missing out on one of life's great pleasures by denying myself the opportunity to snuggle up with these fluffy bundles of joy.

Now, I'm not denying that during daylight hours, the gentle chirruping, chasing each other back and forth across every stick of furniture I own (now all ruined by a million tiny claw marks but hey ho) and tossing balls up in the air then pouncing on them with all the enthusiasm of a hungry lion on a wounded gazelle, amuses me no end. The affectionate moments, where they spreadeagle themselves on my lap in order to receive the exact required amount of petting but absolutely no more than that is also very sweet and I will happily deny myself any drinks or snacks I'd otherwise like to have until they have moved off of their own accord so as to avoid disturbing them.

But at night time, call me old-fashioned, I like to sleep. It is, I believe, a basic human need and, as has been discussed here previously, a hugely enjoyable exercise. Additionally, my job of choice does occasionally necessitate my getting up in the middle of the night to attend births and having had even a small amount of sleep can be a considerable advantage. And having two cats running around me, fighting, or padding slowly over my wishing-I-was-comatose body, often with paws - and indeed a pause - on my head has a tendency to interrupt this process. I've tried, I really have. In fact, last night I left my door open and by 5am, when I was lying awake, having found it necessary to contort my body into an highly unnatural, and indeed uncomfortable, position in order to accommodate the two now repose cats, who had spent the rest of the night trying to eat my hair and trying to reduce my Ikea chest of drawers back to splinters, I ended up chasing them from the room and shutting the door with relief.

Blast from the past

As you may have heard, Gareth Hunt died last week. Those of you who've known me for donkies will remember that Gareth was one of stars of Side by Side, the sitcom I did when I was 17/18 years old and he was such a lovely bloke. Although we hadn't kept in touch, I was really sad to hear about his death. Then I saw Alex Walkinshaw, who played my 'lurrrve interest' in Side by Side, on This Morning last week talking about his role in The Bill and his new son, Jack. It got me to thinking about Louisa Rix, who played my mum in the series and I ended up googling her. It only bloomin' turns out that she lives 10 mins away from me, so tonight, after work, I took a detour round to hers to surprise her (it did!) and ended up having a lovely cup of tea with her and Richard Ommanney, her husband and the writer of Side by Side, who now works as a writer on The Bill! Phew! She also gave me the details of Gareth's funeral next week so I will head over there to pay my last respects.

Is it too early for me to go to bed? I say this because as I write, it's 9.25pm and, having just finished indulging in a lovely long soak in the bath, I want tuck myself straight up.

This happens more and more as I get older. I find that the evening is all about biding my time until I feel it's socially acceptable to go to bed; I look forward to it for hours. A cup of milky coffee, a hot water bottle, a good book, the cats for company, and away I go. A pair of clean pyjamas is a lovely treat too. Oh dear.

I do realise how this sounds, I really do. I know I need to get 'out there' a bit more but sleep is just sooooo nice...

Bust

No, I haven't gone and got one.

I am referring, of course, to companies who supply me with goods and then deliberately go bust in order to get out of having to actually repair their shoddy handywork.

Last year, when I found my grill wasn't working, I attempted to contact the oven manufacturer, Arrow, only to discover that they'd gone into liquidation. After much searching, I finally managed to track down one man on eBay who had a stock of Arrow grill parts (why?! But I'm immensely grateful) and got the part, which my dad duly fitted and now I have a working grill. Hurrah.

For the past few weeks* the lock/handle on the window in the kitchen has been broken and I've had to wedge my knife sharpener behind it in order to secure it against burglars (who know knife sharpeners could be so useful?) I have put off getting it repaired because, well, because I didn't know who I should call about it to be honest. I mean, it wouldn't be an electrician, not a plumber, not a carpenter - so who? A window cleaner?

Today I decided I really needed to get it sorted if I'm going to rent the flat out so I look through the paperwork the previous owners had left me and found that the windows had been fitted in 2001 and had a 10 year guarantee! Excellent! Only it was with Bryco and the bloody bastards went bust in 2004, as I discovered when I tried to call, then google, them. Anyway, what I managed to do was find out the manufacturer of the lock mechanism (logo on the underside of the lock - would have had to hang out of the window (first floor) to see it but instead had the bright idea of getting my camera and taking a picture of it so I could read it), then looked up the manufacturer on the old interpipe**. I not only found the parts in question, I also learnt what they were called. Very important when trying to talk to repair men (because conversations that go "you know the bit that looks like a very thin pencil, that fits inside the other bit, the bit shaped like a piece of macaroni, that's not going in properly" tend to lead to comedic-type misunderstandings I find). Incidentally, the handle is called an Espag Handle and the lock is a shootbolt. Obviously. Now I can converse about window mechanisms with the best of them.

So then I call the manufacturer and they give me a list of local stockists, one of whom I call and she says someone is in my area and can be with me in half an hour. Cue some frantic cleaning of said window area, including using a toothbrush to remove the many years accumulated gunk from the lock. Half an hour later, two burly gentlemen turn up, take the handle - sorry, the Espag - off, fiddle around, put it back on and all is fixed. We then have a discussion about the handles themselves, decide they're rubbish and since I wasn't ever given a key for them either, decided to get them all replaced for what I consider a fairly reasonable sum (less than three figures anyway) so I'll be all properly secure again. They'll be back next week with the parts...unless they go bust in the meantime, that is.

*okay, months
** my favourite new word for the internet

"It's not normal...

...and some people say I shouldn't be using the word 'normal', but I'm using it quite deliberately." Kathy Goble, Professional Complainer, on the lesbian kiss on Eastenders.

"How can he refute the Bible, which he's supposed to live his life by, and bring God into the act of Sodomy?" Kathy Goble, Professional Complainer, on the Bishop who conducted a live gay wedding shown on This Morning

"It made me feel physically sick." Kathy Goble, Professional Complainer, on the Channel 4 series 'Queer As Folk'.

"Did you hear who they were all calling for? 'Oh my God oh my God oh my God'" Kathy Goble, Professional Complainer, on Derren Brown's Seance.

"But there's no question about the fact that Jesus was All Man" Kathy Goble, Professional Complainer, on Jerry Springer The Opera.

(X-Rated: The Top 20 Most Controversial TV Programmes)

She was absolutely great. Comedy gold. I want my own little Kathy Goble doll, that will spout bigoted rhetoric whenever I squeeze her boobs.

In her honour, I would like you all to go here and watch Paedogeddon! The Brass Eye Special (it's in 3 parts). I hear it's one of her favourites.

Rocket man

William Shatner takes acting to a whole new level. His own level. Right up there. Only he can travel there; high, high above us mere mortals. It must be lonely up there in space.

Going, going...

Here is my rather modest efforts from the lunar eclipse last night - I was out at dinner and just happened to have my 4m pixel digital camera with me, no tripod, so these were taken free hand. The last shot was taken on a long exposure, but took 5 attempts resting on a brick wall to get one without too much wobble! Still, not too bad considering.

And Happy Birthday Dad!

Should I stay or should I go?

Although some people clearly have too much time on their hands, I rather liked this.

Megan pushes off for good

(L-R) Jo, Kat, Megan, Sarah, Yours Truly.

We went en masse to Heathrow to make sure Megan definitely left the country today. Escorted her off the premises, as it were. We'll all really miss her, but at least I get to see her in six months time - hurrah! In the meantime, we've got messenger so we can always catch up.

Last weekend Megan came to stay with me and we tried to pack in a whole load of stuff so she had some good English memories. We went to see Hot Fuzz, where we laughed our arses off. By the power of Greyskull! Back home for some spaghetti bolognese (my own special recipe) and I made Megan watch the first episode of several classic comedy series. Green Wing, The Office (UK version - she'd only seen the US version), Nighty Night, The Mighty Boosh, as well as some clips from the League of Gentlemen and Nathan Barley. By the way, if you have any suggestions of other must-see comedy series I should educate her about, let me know.

The following morning we began proceedings with a full English breakfast, naturally. Then we drove over to Windsor and took an audio trip around the castle, which is excellent by the way. A spot of shopping followed, natch, then home for a cup of tea and some syrup waffles then we watched Strictly Ballroom before making eggy-bacony-pasta-y thing (the clue is in the name) and then eating it to the tune of Monsoon Wedding. Superb.

So Megan, in the words of Rupert Graves: "You'll remember that, anyroad." (fabulous prizes available for guessing the quote)

Little things

Wow, these photos are so clever! No idea how they do that but it's very effective.

Heard a great story the other day. My friend had a baby 5 weeks ago and last week her sister came to stay, so her partner and her took the opportunity to go out to dinner, leaving her sister to babysit. She said she felt like her arm was missing, but still. They had a nice meal and returned home around 10pm. Then, they realised that it was still quite early and that her sister probably wouldn't expect them back for another hour or so, so while they were alone they decided to do something they hadn't had the opportunity to do for some time...

So they parked up around the corner from their flat, put the seats all the way back, set an alarm...

...and had an hour's sleep.

Megan's send off

My lovely friend Megan is heading home to Canada on Thursday (boo! I'm going to miss her so much that I'm following her hahaha!) and last night we had a leaving do for her at The Defector's Weld in Shepherds Bush. It started off as a rather sedate affair but six bottles of wine later became rather raucous. I should point out that - if you look closely at the above picture it shall provide proof - I was strictly on orange and cranberry juice as usual. There was much photo-taking of cleavages, mainly because our friend Kat has an incredibly impressive one. So impressive in fact, that at one point, that in the spirit of frivolity and in an attempt to prove that not drinking does not equal boring, I buried my head in it. It was very comfy, so I think Cornershop were probably right - everybody needs a bosom for a pillow. Anyway, later in the night two classic drunk scenarios occurred: firstly, Megan spotted a man in a kilt and decided to see what was underneath it. The usual. The second involved the misappropriation of a traffic cone for comedic purposes. Ah the old ones are the best, are they not? A jolly time was had by all. The only thing that was bloody annoying was that somehow I managed to get a sodding parking ticket, so my otherwise frugal night actually ended up being more expensive than if I'd taken a taxi and got plastered. Bugger.

Shere luck

A couple of days ago, I had a hankering for a bit of countryside and decided to drag David with me. The weather wasn't all that great, but hey, you takes your chances in old Blighty, don't you? We started at Silent Pool, a beautiful spot which comes with the added bonus of a highly improbable ghost story. If you've been there you'll know that the water is so crystal clear - due apparently to the close proximity of the lake to the source spring - and so you can see very clearly that it's definitely not deep enough to drown in...

Once we'd had our fill of the lake, we headed off Newlands Corner, one of the most spectacular views in Surrey. Or at least it should be. In fact, due to the drizzle and general bleughness of the day, it actually looked like this:

A quick wander out of the car to see if the view could be improved upon (it couldn't), resulted in slipping in the mud and getting my jeans very dirty, so back in the car for a quick trip over to Shere village in search of a cream tea. We found one at the Lucky Duck tea rooms, where we could also buy some local farm eggs. Nice. There is also a ford in Shere (a bit where a stream goes over the road and you have to drive through the stream - remember to test your brakes afterwards!) which I delighted in going through twice for no particular reason.

On the way back I spotted a sign for Bocketts Farm, so off we went, hoping to find some animals to pet. And we found them! Lots of lambs, two of which had only been born that morning and there was still a bit of blood in the pen to prove it. Too much info? Ach come on with you, we're all born you know. We also went to watch the pigs racing. My pig - Frankie de Snorter - ambled in last, while Curly Sue romped home.

All in all, an enjoyable, if rather damp and mucky, day.

For my family: Cow Lick.

Update on the cats: We've temporarily gone back to the red disc for Rudy's sake, as he was struggling with the concept of the hole in the amber one. Gertie had no such reservations, she's been perching over the hole and doing her 'business' right down into the loo. I find it bloody hilarious! But given that Rudy went over 24 hours without peeing - despite clearly being desperate to do so - and peed for about 2 mins the moment I replaced the red disc, I think we probably need to give him a bit more time.

Problems with my comments

My comments server is playing up, so sorry if you can't comment at the moment. Am trying to work it aaahhht.

Saw Hot Fuzz last night by the way: fabulous.

Potty talk

Quick update on how the cats are doing with their toilet training. The amber disc is in place and both Rudy and Gertie have used it although, as expected, it's been a bit hit and miss.

Gertie gets full marks: I was worried when she went over 24 hours without either weeing or pooing, but then suddenly jumped up onto the toilet completely unprompted and gave a text book demonstration of how to poo straight through the hole. She then turned around and gave my howls of obvious delight the most withering look possible, as if to say "Well naturally I could do it all along; I simply chose not to." She chose to do it perfectly again today - 1s and 2s - but only time will tell whether she will continue to humour me.

Rudy is a slightly different story, gawd bless 'im. He has pooed on it twice: the first time I was there and physically repositioned him correctly over the hole once he'd started - he wasn't happy about that, but there you go - and he did seem quite chuffed with himself afterwards. The second time it was at some point early yesterday morning and he did manage to get it on the disc, but not actually through the hole. Today he chose to wee in my pot plant instead. Still, he is a boy, and males of all species tend to take a while to control their bodily functions. I'm going to keep trying until he learns.

Too much information? Don't care. I'm like a new mother regaling all and sundry with tales of the colour and texture of each nappy. You're welcome to play the part of the glazed-over, secretly uninterested and slightly disgusted friend.

Revealing my evil plan at last

So, for those of you who haven't had to suffer me going on about it, I'm ready to reveal my plans for this year. I'm buggering off, leaving the country, and bollocks to the lotta yer. Only joking. About the bollocks part that is, but I am indeed leaving ol' Blighty for a while to stretch my wings and see what else is out there.

Sad thing is that for most places (like Australia, for example) I'm already too old to get a working holiday visa (ageist bastards) and that's what I want, because I want to take a break from midwifery and do a bit of bar work or whatever for a while. My friend Megan is Canadian and is heading back out there in a couple of weeks (boo!) so I started looking into visas to visit her and found out that there was a tiny allocation of non-student working holiday visas available for those up to the age of 35. I called on the off-chance and they said that, although they had a few left, the allocation would be full within a week. I applied there and then and secured myself a lovely big fat visa.

So the plan, at the moment at least, is: rent out my flat, move in with my dad & step-mum (thanks guys!) and start saving money. Leave work at the end of July to go on a months' annual leave prior to leaving (I'm going on a 'career break' so keep my pension entitlements - woo hoo!) and maybe work a few bank shifts (like temping but in the NHS) during August to save more money. Leave for Canada in early September, fly to Vancouver, hopefully meet up with my good friend Megan and spend a few days in Vancouver then take the train over the Rockies to Edmonton, where Megan lives. Stay there and bum around for a month or so finding my feet. October: go to Banff on a job hunt. November: start work and learn to ski/board. If like it, stay till March/April, if don't, go back to Vancouver to work. March/April: travel round Canada, maybe hop over to the States for a visit to Seattle or Boston or some such place. July: back to Vancouver for Megan's wedding, then leave for Thailand. Spend a month in Thailand and then on to Malaysia & Borneo. Always had a thing about Borneo. Not sure why. Think it may be because of this: Might go somewhere else - Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos? - if I have enough money/fancy it. Then back home via 2-4 weeks in Japan. Then, who knows?

Comments and suggestions welcome...

I'm it

My friend Lisa has 'tagged' me - I thought this was some kind of modern technical thing, but is actually just naming me on her blog - to tell you five things about myself you didn't know. So here goes:

1. Sometimes I just eat Angel Delight for dinner, coz I'm a grown-up and no one can tell me not to.

2. I am currently teaching my cats to use the toilet. Yes, the actual, real, human toilet. I'm using the Litter Kwitter system which I got free from the Daily Mirror (my sister Toni reads it, not me, honest). They're only on the 'red disc' stage at the moment, and they're doing fine with that one, but we did try amber for a day or so last week and it didn't go too well. Gertie got stuck in the hole and then pooed on my duvet in protest. We'll see how attempt #2 goes later this week.

3. I have my own page on the Internet Movie Database. I have on occasion considered submitting a photo but have decided that that would be really very sad indeed.

4. I am terrified of never having kids.

5. I'm so excited about the new Harry Potter due out later this year I'm considering taking a couple of days off work just to read it.

I'm supposed to 'tag' five people to carry this on, but I don't know that many bloggers so I'll just tag my sister Jenny and the inimitable Silas.

Rachel is a Yoghurty God

I'm totally addicted to this: I can't stop eating it. I'm getting through about one big tub every couple of days. If you haven't tried it, you have to. Yum yum yum.

Tax does, it seems, have to be taxing

A couple of weeks ago I got notification, passed on to me via Tudor, that I needed to complete a tax return. I ignored it, obviously, because I'm PAYE and shouldn't need to complete one, plus they hadn't actually sent me a tax return. Then, a week or so ago, I decided to double check and found out that, low and behold, I do need to return one. As it was only a short time till the deadline, he suggested that I complete it online. So, a week ago I went to do just that but found I had to apply for a PIN code to register, which they had to send me in the post.

Today is 31st Jan. Deadline day and I risk a £100 fine I don't get it in. Didn't receive my PIN yet so couldn't do it online. Instead I had to print it off and complete it by hand, now I have to drive off to hand it in to the nearest tax office, which is Twickenham. There is, of course, industrial action today and I can't get hold of them by phone so I can't confirm with them that a) they're open and b) they can take receipt of my return. Fingers crossed I don't have a wasted (and therefore expensive) journey.

Add that to the fact that it's all bloody maths, which makes me stressed to the gills, and I'm pissed off with the fact that, despite £450 worth of expenses, the calculations say I'm only entitled to a £97 rebate. How the hell can that be right?! Bloody Inland bloody Revenue.

More bargains

I went shopping with Megan the other day in Kingston. It was a bumper day for the bargain hunter; the last dregs of the sale is always my favourite time to go a-looking. I got: three tops from Kew, two soft think jumper type things (one red, one charcoal) and one long blue t-shirt, which looks great with the turquoise belt I also picked up. In Gap, I was looking at a grey jumper which was not, of course, in the sale. I then spotted a different grey top in a very soft t-shirt-type material and decided that, since it was a bit cheaper at £14.50, I'd get that instead. Took it up to the counter and...you guessed it...they said 'That'll be £2.99 please". Fabulous. Uniqlo next, where I found a big thick warm cardigan with a fleecy lining for half price. Then over to Primark to get some new socks and spotted a plain black halterneck bikini for a bargain £5, which - I kid you not - makes me look like a Bond girl. I'm heading off to The Sanctuary tomorrow evening for an evening spa and Nourishing Kyphi Scrub and I bet that no one there will guess that I'm such a cheapskate.

Add this to that the fact that I had my hair done on Saturday at johnbaxterhill in Walton. I went as a model for the trainee again and had a full head of highlights and a cut & blowdry. It was a top job (I had some more red streaks put in and it now looks like the picture I have on my profile again!) and cost me the bargain price of £30 all in.

All in all, a very satisfying weekend.

Have just been forced to switch to Blogger Beta (new version) so am hoping that my blog doesn't disappear or do anything strange. Please let me know if it does.

The wonderful Marillion played a gig at Koko in Camden last night; I was there, of course. If you remember, the last time I went to Koko was to see The Buzzcocks with my friend Suzie and I discovered a 'secret' balcony right at the top where there was a row of comfy leather sofas. I thought then that a gig watched while sat on comfy sofas, with a practically private bar and a good view of the stage was almost perfect, and would indeed have been perfect, if the band had been Marillion. Well, last night, I had the opportunity to put this to the test and I am pleased to report that it was as good as expected. My friend Megan and I queued up early in the cold to make sure we were first up there (judging by the crowds that followed us later it seems it's not so secret after all) and managed to secured the centre sofa. Bliss.

The band were, as ever, musical genius incarnate, and I sang my little heart out start to finish. The only slight sticking point came when I noticed that, directly below us two floors down, stood Tudor and his girlfriend Lindsey (we haven't met), right in front of the sound mixing desk, naturally. I'd recognise that bald spot anywhere. Tudes spotted me too and we waved hello. I knew they'd be there because I know Lindsey knows the wife of Marillion's keyboard player Mark Kelly, but a bit of an odd feeling nonetheless. Still, fortunately there was plenty going on on the stage throughout the evening to distract me, so that was good at least. Tudes texted me later to say he'd met Mark Kelly. Lucky lucky bastard. Anyway, nuff said on that one.

Messing with my head

So - lookylikies. I was directed to the Fake Faces website by the wonderful Geoff Show and, not only does it have some of the loosest definitions of look-a-likes that I've yet seen, but I have also discovered a very odd chain of events.

If you go to the Paris Hilton look-a-like, you will note that it is none other than Celebrity Big Brother 'non-celebrity turned real celebrity' winner Chantelle Houghton, who has apparently been a Paris Hilton look-a-like since before her CBB days. On her page, it suggests that you might like to hire her alongside Preston look-a-like Ben Edwards. What?! So, you hire someone to look like Paris Hilton, but then hire someone who looks like the look-a-like's real-life husband to have alongside her? Does that not suggest that you're hiring Chantelle and Preston look-a-likes instead? But with the REAL Chantelle and a FAKE Preston? But wait - there's more. On the Preston look-a-like's page, it suggests that you might like to hire him alongside Chantelle look-a-like Dani. So let me get this straight. You can hire the real Chantelle to impersonate Paris, a fake Preston to accompany her and a fake Chantelle for...spares?

Just weird.

Winter wonderland

It was very exciting to wake up to all that snow this morning - the view out of my window was second-to-none. I got up and went for a walk down by the lake and took about a hundred photos, some of which I've posted here for your delight and pleasure.

Do I live in one of the most beautiful spots or what?!?

A bit on the windy side

My dad's shed blew over!

Plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery

I bumped into my old tutor from uni yesterday at work and she looked rather bemused as she said she wanted to show me something. She opened up something in her hand and asked me if I recognised it. Well, yes I did, it was some work I'd done for my 'management portfolio' when I'd been doing my degree - several very dull pages about management theories which had been a bugger to read and summarise - and also some stuff my friend Claire had contributed. She asked me if I was sure it was mine, to which I replied I certainly was because you don't forget stuff that boring.

Turns out that it had been submitted by a current student as her own work, and what's more, apparently this piece of work has been plagiarised by TVU students several times before! This particular time, it's a girl they've suspected of plagiarism in the past, so wanted to have proof to confront her. Still, I'm rather flattered that my work is still doing the rounds...

Oh and I got the results of my Examination of the Newborn course (the course I did last year to enable me to do a detailed examination of babies once they're born to confirm they're healthy, usually done by paediatricians). I got 87%! Rather pleased with that, so In Your Face paediatricians of Queen Charlotte's. Now give me an opthalmoscope and I'm away...

Yorkshire festivities

Christmas! This year, my dad & step-mum rented a cottage in York, so everyone bundled round there for Christmas day. As you can see, I went as Widow Twanky in best panto tradition. There were 13 of us for Christmas lunch (Dad, Jackie, Jackie's mum, Jackie's sister Jenny, her husband David, their son Charles, my mum, my sister Jenny and her daughter Liddi, my sister Toni and her two sons Benj & Barney and...oh hang on, who have I forgotten? Oh yes, me) and we ate a veritable feast, including a goose stuffed with a chicken stuffed with a pheasant stuffed with stuffing. Pork I think. We opened an obscene amount of presents as usual, and I had organised a quiz: Family Not University Challenge. It were great. Then the kids and me settle down to watch Starsky & Hutch and then we all watched The Vicar of Dibley. So, your standard Christmas fayre, I suppose. The kids especially enjoyed it:

It wasn't my day today. A combination of traffic, slow tube trains and annoying dawdlers meant that I was four minutes late getting to BAFTA to meet my friend Sarah (she's a member - get her) to go and see The Holiday and BAFTA don't let you in if you're late. I ran hell-for-leather from Green Park tube, up the stairs to the BAFTA reception and asked the receptionist if I was too late. She confirmed I was, so I asked if I could sit on the stairs for a bit because I thought I was going to vomit*...at which point I received a text message from my sister. Let me explain: it's my nephew Barney's 18th Birthday today. He didn't want presents because he's saving for a computer so I sent a card with some £40 in it - probably should have sent a cheque but...well, I didn't. So the text from my sister was asking if I meant to put a cheque in with the card? Yes, you've guessed it, the cash was nicked in the post. The card had been re-sealed and apparently looked untampered with, no idea how do they did it. The fuckers.

After a few minutes of me sobbing on the stairs, the receptionist kindly told me there was a nearby toilet I could clean my face up in...

Anyway, I did what any sensible woman did when they are depressed. I went and had a hot chocolate and bought myself a small glass lobster.

Later, Sarah & I went back into BAFTA to see Infamous, the as-yet unreleased film about Truman Capote which, although covers similar ground to the recent Capote, is by many accounts a better film. To be fair, I haven't seen Capote, but can confirm that Infamous is fabulous and the portrayal of Truman by English character actor Toby Jones is astounding (he was there for a Q&A after the film and was a very articulate and interesting bloke). Tragic that he won't win an Oscar for it, because Philip Seymour Hoffman already did. It has the most amazing cast and both Sandra Bullock and the terribly 'now' (and rather gorgeous) Daniel Craig deserve a most honourable mention. Oh do see it, really do.

*I had told Sarah to go in if I didn't get there in time so she hadn't just abandoned me

Spam with neighbours

I went to see Spamalot last night. Now, I've realised over the years that I'm really crap at writing reviews - they normally boil down to 'it was great' or 'it was rubbish' - but I'll have a go.

A re-working of the classic Monty Python & The Holy Grail, Spamalot has much to offer lovers of the original film as well as those who are coming to it with fresh eyes. A host of hilarious new songs sit alongside the more familiar 'Knights of the Round Table' and the inevitable 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life'....oh bugger this. Play = great. Tim Curry = excellent. Jokes = funny. View = bit rubbish, because we were quite literally up in the Gods. In fact I was sat between Thor and Zeus*. Anyway, highly recommended.

eBay has come up trumps again. Today I received my PVR - a 'personal video recorder' for those not technically-minded. Basically Sky+ without the Sky. Freeview+, if you like. I didn't exactly mean to buy it, but it's great nonetheless. The story goes like this: last week I got a bit carried away and ended up bidding on something that I thought was a DVD recorder, because, to be fair, it was in the DVD recorder category. The auction was about to end and it was going cheap...well, you know the rest. It was only after I won the auction in a flurry of excitement that I double-checked it and discovered that I had a PVR instead. Anyway, thems the breaks, and anyway, for a rather good price I've got a very nice bit of kit which enables me to pause live TV and will record Neighbours for me every day without having to be asked! What more can you ask for?

*I'm well aware that Thor is a Norse God and Zeus is of the Greek variety. I'm just hedging my bets.

Oh, meant to say, I also made stock from the chicken carcass. STOCK I tells you. I'll be making meringues with left over egg-whites next.

Inappropriate Cleaning

So picture the scene: you have your dad and über-clean step-mother coming round for Sunday lunch in 1 hour's time. The roast is in the oven but the rug has trails of cat litter on it and the piles of paperwork on the coffee table need sorting through. The washing up needs doing and then your face needs a bit of a re-work. This is the exact time you develop a compulsion to do a round of 'inappropriate cleaning'.

Girls will, I'm guessing, to be sexist for a moment, recognise this phenomenon more readily than my dear gentlemen readers. It is while getting the vacuum cleaner out that you realise you absolutely HAVE to reorganise the storage cupboard. And clean the shelves thoroughly to boot. Or you pop into the bathroom for a quick wee and discover that the inside of the window frame needs a good wipe down and BANG! Five minutes before they ring the doorbell you find yourself covered in mould and mildew remover with the cleanest inside bathroom window frame you could wish for...and a flat that still looks like the 'before' bit on How Clean is Your House? Or you go to create an ambient light-scape (a.k.a. switching on a few lights) and spot just how grubby the underside of the light switches are! Quick, get the vinegar and a j-cloth and let's tackle the top of the door frames whilst we're at it...

I find myself getting more and more 'Monica' as the years go by. But only - only - when I have guests coming round and don't have time.

Goodbye to the Normals

Who said English kids can't act? Well, me, to be fair, but I'm revising my opinion based on the impeccable performance of this little ginger.

Lights and action

Finally - finally - got to see Borat this evening. I have never found anything so painful to watch in all my life and actually only got to see half the film because I had to watch most of it through my fingers. Still, any film which has two naked men running into a Mortgage Advisors' Conference chasing each other with a fist-shaped dildo has to be purest genius. Even without putting Pamela Anderson in a sack.

In other news, the light fitting in my bedroom blew in a most spectacular fashion a few months ago and the metal part of the lightbulb remained firmly wedged in the apparently burnt out remains. Haven't got round to doing anything about it, obviously. Well, I returned from work today to find that David had fixed the whole thing using only a potato. Honestly, those Irish can do bloody anything with a tuber.

I had a slightly strange start to the day today. At just before 7am I heard some banging which woke me up, but I wasn't sure at first if it was the kittens knocking something over. Then I heard the doorbell going and some more furious banging, so I got up and went to the door and it was my neighbour from downstairs, Rachael, who was in a real state. Her boyfriend had just collapsed outside the front of the flats, fallen backwards down a few steps, and was lying in a pool of blood outside, having cut his head open. I called an ambulance and grabbed a clean flannel to stem the bleeding till the ambulance arrived, all the while trying to reassure them both. He has cancer and I suspect that was the reason for the fall. The ambulance arrived very quickly and they were great. Once they'd gone I got a bucket of water and cleaned away the blood outside, so the neighbours weren't greeted with the sight of it when they got up (mind you, with the hailstorm that came a few hours later I probably needn't have bothered), fed the kittens and then slumped back into bed...

When I woke up a few hours later I wasn't sure if I'd dreamt it!

I'm a famous tranny

Last night the fabulous Geoff Show on Virgin Radio gave me an honourable mention. I had entered a competition to win a Sony Bravia HD ready LCD tv and Sky HD package - well, who wouldn't? In order to do so I had to submit an invention - the feasibility of which was irrelevant incidentally - which went as follows:

Remember when you were a kid and you used to collect fake tattoos from bubblegum wrappers? You placed them on your arm, rubbed it, and it tranferred onto your skin? Well my idea is to update this idea for the busy modern woman. Why not have make-up transfers? You could have a whole face shaped mask which you placed over your face, give it a gentle rub, and it would transfer the ready-blended eyeshadow, rouged cheeks and even lipstick to your face in a matter of seconds!

Well, this went down VERY well on the show, with my use of the word 'rouge' (carefully chosen I hasten to add) leading to much speculation about whether I was a transvestite. I think Geoff thought I was a clear winner but sadly the listeners' vote put me at joint last place! Damn their unGodly eyes. Even Geoff asked what was wrong with them?

Anyway if you want to hear the whole encounter then you can listen to it here or download the podcast for Thursday 16th November. It's about 25 minutes in... But be quick! Podcasts aren't available for ever!

Please be seated

In order to avoid those terribly embarrassing everyone-standing-around-
the-table-and-bending-their-
knees-to-eat moments, I decided to buy some folding chairs to go with my lovely folding table. I managed to pick up four of these little babies from eBay for £21.01. So now my guests no longer have to brush up on their pilates in preparation for my dinner parties...

A creative period

Stuck for a gift? Want to make good use of what you have lying around the house and utilise your creative talents? Here's your solution. Make me something nice for Christmas, won't you...?

Jen? I want to see your Christmas tree covered in these little gems.

Bargain of the Month #3

Because everyone who's been to my flat for dinner has had to eat off their knees, I've been looking for a dining room table but, as those of you who have been to my flat for said dinner will know, I have sod all space to put one. I have therefore been looking for a fold-up/gateleg table but had yet to see one that was a) small enough or b) cheap enough for the task. Then I spotted Habitat had quite a nice one (I've been trying to upload a couple of pictures but blogger is being 'gay', as the young people would say, and won't bloody do it) which folded up really small. It was £119, which frankly I don't have at the moment, but pretty reasonable for a table so I put it on the back burner for when I have a windfall (haha). Then, whilst browsing on eBay the other day I spotted just such a table, 2 years old but in good condition. The auction finished last night and, after persuading my dad to do the bidding for me because I was at Ruedawang, I managed to secure the table for the bargain price of £26.01. I thank you. Just need to find some cheap eBay chairs now...

Ah, can upload piccies now:



By the way, these are the pictures from eBay so no, this is not my kitchen!

Oh and I just had my bedroom carpet cleaned and the clever chap managed to remove the mysterious stains that have been there since I moved in. Hurrah!

Pumptastic

Happy Hallowe'en! For those who haven't seen the pumpkin I usually carve, here's this year's efforts:



Doesn't look too impressive, huh? But when you turn the lights off it gets much much better:



Oh and Liddi? In your face...

That's Numberwang!

I went to Salsa tonight, but instead of doing 'normal' salsa, we were doing Rueda this evening. For the uninitiated, this involved a sort of salsa-in-the-round, where you all dance in a circle and are constantly changing partner. The instructor shouts out 'calls', such as "Abajo!" or "Peluquería!", which tells you which move to do next and the whole thing flows like a big and beautiful wheel.

Or at least, that's the theory. Of course, if you've never done it before - as I hadn't - the instructions are meaningless and I was horribly reminded of this causing me to spend most of the class in hysterics. Quite ruined the effect.

Although I am now the proud owner of a Darkplace DVD, sadly, it is not a signed copy. My friend Megan and I arrived at Virgin only to discover that every weirdo in London (and let's face it, that's a lot of weirdos) had turned up ahead of us - even the Virgin staff were saying they hadn't anticipated anything like it. They sold out of the DVD! Anyway, Megan and I said sod this for a game of soldiers to the 4 hour wait and went for a pizza instead. We did however get to stand just a couple of metres away from the boys and Richard/Dean/Thornton almost kind of looked at me, so that was nice. Naturally, I discovered I had absent-mindedly taken my camera out of my bag the previous evening so could only record the momentous occasion on the very crappy camera on my phone:


It is them, I promise...

Did anyone watch that 100 Greatest Albums thing on Channel 4 last night? What the HELL was Paul Weller wearing?

So...excited...can...hardly...write...

Hurray hurray hurray!

Not only is Garth Marenghi's Darkplace FINALLY coming out on DVD on Monday, but Garth himself, his manager Dean Learner and the actor Todd Rivers will be signing copies of the DVD at Virgin Megastore in Piccadilly Circus on Monday from 6pm.

And, as if that didn't feel like all my birthdays had come at once, a new series from the makers of Darkplace will be starting on Channel 4 on October 20th. Watch the trailer here.

As a small taster, here's a play in one act, written by Garth, to celebrate the DVD release (I nicked this off his site - sorry Garth):


DARKPLACE REVISITATUM
A PLAY IN ONE ACT BY GARTH MARENGHI

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
GARTH MARENGHI
HELLHOUND 1
HELLHOUND 2
THE KEEPER

GARTH ENTERS THE STAGE. HE APPROACHES A GATE. TWO HELLHOUNDS STAND SENTRY.

HELLHOUND 2
Your name?

GARTH
Garth Marenghi.

HELLHOUND 1
Your business?

GARTH
The business of horror.

HELLHOUND 2
How might others know you?

GARTH
By my scripture o' blood i.e. Slicer through to Retch, my latest hardback release. Hellhounds! Why are your faces blank?

HELLHOUND 2
What need have we of faces when we have no souls?

GARTH
Fair point, makes sense. What call they me?

HELLHOUND 1
Some call you prophet

HELLHOUND 2
Others don’t

GARTH
Where do I stand?

HELLHOUND 1
At the doorway to your mind.

HELLHOUND 2
Do you want to come in?

GARTH
Open the door!

THE HELLHOUNDS MIME OPENING THE DOOR. GARTH WALKS THROUGH IT.

GARTH
Begone!

HELLHOUND 2
Shall I close the door to your mind?

GARTH
No, leave it open.

THUNDER. WE HEAR A VOICE FROM THE GODS.

KEEPER
I am the Keeper. Who is this that interrupts my slumber?

GARTH
Do we have to go through this again? What are the hellhounds doing? This is bureaucracy gone mad.

KEEPER
State your business.

GARTH
I have come for the Darkplace DVD. The time is now…

A BONY HAND DESCENDS FROM ABOVE. IT HOLDS THE DARKPLACE DVD. LIGHTING FLASH. HELLHOUND CHORUS HOWLS.

Tableau. Slow Fade.

Girly Vader

Ha ha ha ha


Funny Videos

Celebrity Wife Swap: McCririck v. Currie

John McCririck. I'm well aware that saying he's the most repugnant human being ever to have set foot on the planet, I'm not really giving you any earth-shattering news. It's pretty much a given, isn't it? From his habit of referring to his wife as 'The Booby', his point-blank refusal to do anything for himself at all (cooking, cleaning, washing himself - bleugh), to his habit of spending most of his time writhing in his own filth in bed - including eating his dinner there every night - any sane woman would commit hara kari at the thought of spending an evening, let alone a life-time, with him.

What is fascinating, then, is that he has found a woman who is prepared to put up with him. Surely that is proof, right there, that there is someone for everyone. Whilst most of us would forcibly drive a sharp implement through his skull at the first opportunity, she happily puts up with his disgusting behaviour. Amazing. Indeed, if you watched the E4 programme 'Wife Swap: The Aftermath'*, you'd have seen her justifying his behaviour time and time again, and criticising Edwina Currie for her perfectly reasonable frustration. I couldn't help be reminded of a few other individuals who have managed to brainwash others into believing their questionable or unsavoury views were reasonable: David Koresh, Marshall Applewhite, Adolf Hitler...

*really I wouldn't normally watch these sort of things. Honest guv.

Happy knackers

Happy birthday to my lovely niece Liddi - 16 years old today - who has foolishly invited her boyfriend over to her house to meet and have dinner with my whole family. RIP Alec.

The kittens were neutered today: this is a polite way of saying that Gertie had her tubes tied and Rudy had his knackers chopped off ("Have you sent them to me for my birthday?" asked Liddi). I felt like a very bad mummy and even had a little cry, but I have been delighted to find that they have been as lively and friendly as ever this evening.

Finally, here's a link to the Borat website, which is very funny. Please do have a look at the trailer for his new film, which will undoubtedly be the must-see film of the year, and you absolutely MUST look at the bit which says 'I Innocent of Accusings of the Kazakhstan Government'. Way to avert an international crisis, Cohen! Brilliant.

Chinese Gold Farmers

Well, here's a thing. Every few days, or so it seems at the moment, I learn something about this world that makes me go 'Well bloody hell. What's that all about then?' I had just such a moment yesterday. This will take some explaining, particularly if this is new to you, so bare with me.

Computer games. There are lots of them. Pong was only the start, my friends. There are different types: some are 'shoot 'em ups', some are 'platform' games and there are also 'role-playing' games, which are fairly self-explanatory. One of the most popular ones is called World of Warcraft, another is Adventure Island. Now in order to play, say World of Warcraft (known colloquially as WoW), although the idea is to, eventually, start a war and take over the continent, but in order to do that you have to start right at the beginning. You have to round up some peasants, get them to go and mine lots of gold in order to finance the project, train them up as an army, as well as building villages, growing food in order to sustain them, and all that malarky. Then, as you go along, you can 'earn' different weapons or armour through various different means. With me so far?

So, these games are very popular around the world, particularly - don't look surprised - America. But people can't always be bothered to spend all this time mining gold, so - and this is where it gets a bit freaky - the Chinese have set up several 'farming colonies', who spend all their time mining and then selling their gold via eBay to impatient Americans. Let's just look at that again, shall we? Chinese people, working in rotation, usually eating and sleeping together in a big room, play computer games 24 hrs a day in order to mine virtual gold to sell for real dollars to international gamers.

If you don't believe me, here's a short video about it:



Mental.

The divine and the bizarre

Yesterday I acquired something really cool: Limequats.















Perhaps you may like to use these mini-marvels in segment form to accompany smoked salmon blinis. Clearly the ultimate in fruit minaturisation; something I've long approved of.

I decided to take a photo of it and looked for something I could use for scale. I couldn't find a pickaxe, so instead I came across an old tupp'ny bit that I thought would do the job nicely. Anyway, I took a few photos, including the one above, and then decided to try a few with flash, to see if it looked better. But when I did the strangest thing happened...

The two penny piece disappeared!


Later, I asked around and a neighbour told me that there did used to be a tupp'ny bit that lived here, but it died in a mysterious fire. An old pound note was arrested but the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. But apparently, sometimes, if you listen very carefully, when the Bank of England announce an increase in the base rate, you can still hear it clinking as it bounces and rolls across the floor...

A blog of three halves

Firstly: get well soon Richard Hammond. As someone who has nurtured a (not-so) secret ambition to become a Top Gear presenter for many a year, I was delighted for 'the Hamster' that he achieved his own goal to become so. Driving a car that goes from 0-272mph in 6 seconds is a double-edged sword; surely one of the most exciting and dangerous experiences of your life. I hope he makes a full recovery, and the footage is shown to great relief/hilarity on the show in the not-too-distant future...

Secondly: it's started. I was shopping a couple of days ago at...well, I'm not going to mention the name, because shopping in Matalan isn't exactly the height of glamour, is it? Oh bugger. Anyway, right there, front of the store: the C******** department. The other C word, as I like to call it. Just so's we're not in any doubt about this: I'm terminally broke these days (oh the joys of home-ownership) so unless you're close family you can whistle dixie for a present. The good thing about this is that you don't have to get me one either! And if you are close family, expect some dreadfully shoddy home-made nonsense. Just a warning.

Thirdly: Last night I went to see An Inconvenient Truth. It really is a stunning piece of work and beautifully pitched by Al Gore. I was expecting one of those rather gut-wrenching, terrifying, 'oh shit I know I really should be doing something about this but I think I'll just kill myself now instead' type experiences but that isn't what it's about. It's a very factual, simple to understand explanation of exactly what is happening to the planet and why and - this being the crucial factor - what we can do about it. And guess what? It's (not) surprisingly simple! So, being as you probably all know I'm a bit of an old hippy at heart, I have some simple requests for all reading this.

1. Go and see the film. Really. You have no excuses, this is your home we're talking about.
2. Recycle recycle recycle. Reuse. Turn off your unused appliances - did you know that if you leave your mobile phone charger plugged in when it's not charging your phone it's still using electricity? As does your hairdryer? Simply switching it off at the plug will save you money AND your planet. What a bargain. Use low-voltage light bulbs. Use your legs or public transport rather than your car if possible. Use eco-friendly cleaning products: I notice that Tesco are doing their own brand eco products now and I've seen (and used) Anthony Worrall-Thompson's range at Asda as well as the excellent Ecover range.
   
3. Visit www.climatecrisis.org to find out what you can do to help the situation.
   

Come on people - do we really have to wait till the planet's fucked beyond repair before we'll get off our arses and do something about it? What are we: Americans?

Where's your red balloon now?

I've just spent a couple of days in Milton Keynes. Now firstly, before I trash the place, if anyone reading this is from Milton Keynes...well, congratulate yourself on being one of the 5% who can actually read.

The thing about MK is that it has been specially designed to be a) friendly b) practical and c) highly accessible. It fails spectacularly on all fronts. It is populated by a series of ever-more-bizarre looking freaks. You know the types: EMO obsessed teenagers, people so fat they have to have specially designed chairs to glide around in and people who long ago realised that it doesn't matter if they are wearing a tea cosy on their head and have a piss stain down the front of their trousers because the incessant drooling and lolloping gait attract enough attention away from any sartorial errors. The neverending series of concrete underpasses that direct you up and down through the 'town' like a geriatric rollercoaster are so dangerous after 6pm that you might as well loosen your belt before you attempt to navigate your way through them to save time. I say 'town', because of course, there isn't one. One big sprawling shopping mall, packed to the gills during the day and instantly deserted as if by magic the moment the shutters come down, is the closest you'll get to a high street. By road, the endless roundabouts leave you nauseous and hopelessly lost on even the simplest of journeys. The beauty of MK, they say, is that it doesn't really matter which road you take, they all lead to the same place eventually! Whilst my grasp of English Literature has never been solid, I've a feeling this very theme was raised in one or the other of Jean Paul Satre's plays.



The overall effect is that MK is deeply sinister. It makes West World seem jolly and safe, makes Yul Brynner look like a kindly old uncle. Even the road signs are sinister, though how they can make simple black writing on a white background send a shiver that shakes me to my very core, I don't know. I mean, surely somewhere where people can ski, in England, inside a building, must speak for itself.

Oh and just in case you needed any further convincing, I took a picture of one of the local nightclubs. Nuff said.

A 2 film week

First up: Little Miss Sunshine. Absolute brilliance at every turn. A final pay-off that will make you laugh so hard your stomach will fall out onto the cinema floor. What more could you want? Can't recommend it highly enough.

Second: Talledega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. Hilarious characters: check*. Amusing situations: check. Great one-liners: check. Silly accents: check. But does it work as a film? Not quite. Enjoyable enough, but somehow not cohesive enough to make this a classic comedy, unlike Will Ferrells Anchorman, which simply does not get better.

There endeth the lesson.

*Of particular note are Ricky's children and the drunken wife of the Nascar team boss.

A day of two meanings

Today is, of course the fifth anniversary of the massive terrorist attacks on the USA. Whilst I am not, in any way, trying to belittle the enormity of this tragedy, today is more memorable to me because of a very different event that took place two years prior to that horrendous event, because seven years ago today Tudor & I got married.

Seven years ago, at this time, we'd just finished saying our vows and were standing out on the lawn at the Cambridge Cottage at Kew Gardens, eating sandwiches, drinking champagne and having some photos taken. I was immensely happy that day, never imagining that only a few years later we'd be apart.

It's a cliché to say that I thought my marriage was forever, but I did. I still find it hard to believe things worked out this way, despite that fact that the split was instigated by me. In fact, that almost makes it harder. We're both moving on, still trying our best to remain (become?) friends, and that's good. But we had nearly 13 years together and you can't just walk away from someone you cared that much about and forget it ever happened. My relationship with Tudor has made me the person I am, and continues to have an influence on all that I do.

I wish Tudor all the best for the future. I sincerely and genuinely hope that he is happy and that we can still, in some way, be a part of each other's lives.

Happy would-be Anniversary, honey.

Hot & cold

What a lovely day. And it's not in the least bit depressing to think that it's probably the last nice day we'll get this year.

I'm feeling pretty rough today, not sure why, some kind of virus I think. Spinning head, queasy tummy, general feeling of fatigue. I'm currently tucked up with my duvet on the sofa. So imagine my delight when I got up to feed the cats, only discover that somehow my freezer door has been left slightly open and half my stuff has defrosted. The body count so far:

1. Leftover boeuf bourguignon
2. Leftover beef madras
3. 2 bags of frozen prawns
   
4. 3 packets of bacon
5. 1 bag of leftover gravy
6. 4 pork chops
7. 2 chicken breasts

Bugger. If I had the energy and appetite, I'd try to cook as much of it up as possible to try to salvage it but frankly, I'd keel over if I tried.

Um...but why?

I realise I'm very very behind on this, but I just saw the Goatse picture. It is, of course, deeply unpleasant. Fortunately I'm not in the least bit squeamish and just found it rather fascinating in its utter pointlessness but - just in case you haven't yet seen it and have a slightly less robust stomach than myself - DO think twice before you google it...

Today I have been mostly amusing myself greatly, every time my kittens have been pouncing on each other and rolling around fighting, by shouting at them: "Not now Kato!"

Died with his boots on

I'm really shocked and saddened about the death of Steve Irwin today. Tudes and I saw him in action at Australia Zoo when we were there in 2000. I'd been a big fan for ages and we made a special a trip out there, never really believing we'd actually see him, but when we went to the crocodile show, lo and behold Steve bounded in, holding his daughter Bindi, wife Terri on the mic, and leapt around with all the enthusiasm and energy of a labrador puppy. He was a great entertainer, a passionate conservationist; a real life Hagrid. I thought the statement from his friend and producer John Stainton summed it up nicely:

"He died doing what he loves best. He left this world in a happy and peaceful state of mind. Crocs rule!''

Bargain of the Month #2

Well, hey, I know it's not quite September yet, but had to tell you about this one. In my continuing quest to get things cheap or free, I just went to a new hair salon that has opened up quite near me to have my hair cut and highlighted - but did it as a model. The trainee who did it can't have been more than 18 but she was very good and I'm pleased with the result. I'm even more pleased with the price: £20 (the cut was free, just paid for the highlights). Bonza!

The Scoundrels!

Oh shit oh shit oh shit ...

As requested by my sister, a picture of my new rug in situ. Hurrah.

I've spent all day trying to get round to doing some more college work, really need to get it all finished in the next couple of weeks. But why is it that you always find something absolutely vital to do when you should be doing something else? So far I've hoovered (the rug of course) AND mopped. I've done some washing and hung it up. Had lunch. Washed up. Written some emails. Organised the picture folder on my hard drive (been meaning to do that for AGES). And now I'm blogging. All important and vital stuff, obviously, and far more important than actually doing WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING.

Gaarrrgggh. I despair of myself.

Well hey, maybe I SHOULD join a gym...

So, how do we know whether the Many Vast Elephants Made their Jam Sandwiches at Nine in the morning or Nine in the evening now?

Oh Christ! Oh Jesus Christ!

The other day, driving home from work, I saw an horrific vision: a poster with the words 'The Wicker Man' and 'Nicolas Cage' emblazened on it. With an increasing sense of disquiet, I investigated it further when I returned on home on t'interweb and found this.

Now, I'm all for Hollywood remaking classics and adding a few more explosions and love interests.....oh no, hang on, I'm not. I mean for F*CKS sake. The Wicker Man? What's next? Suggested by my friend Guy:

Coming this fall... a heartwarming family comedy starring Adam Sandler, Will Ferrall and Jim Carrey... "Withnail"

The thing is, it wouldn't surprise me even one little bit. Sigh.

I'm well aware that I'm terribly childish but this made me laugh big time.

And big congratulations to my friend Bryn and his wife Nicole over in Oz who had a baby girl last week. Is there something in the water? Why is everyone I know having babies all of a sudden? And far more importantly, does anyone know any nice single men they want to throw my way?

Bargain of the Month #1

Welcome to a new feature: Bargain of the Month. I love a bargain, me. Yesterday I was in York with my family and happen to wander into Habitat. Okay, so not an uncommon occurance, as you may be aware, but still. They had a 'clearance corner' which had a few reduced items and I spotted a rug leaning up against the wall. Now, I've been after a rug for my lounge but haven't found anything suitable* yet so I thought I'd take a look. It turned out to be 'Genevieve', which you can find if you go to the Habitat website (can't do a direct link as their website is a bit annoying like that), which is jolly nice and was listed as £395 in the catalogue, but £295 on the website. Anway, due to a couple of black marks (which came off straight away with Carpet Power), it was available for the much reduced price of £73. I thank you.

*okay, cheap enough then

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...