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.