Wales is Best (above the equator)

The autumn rugby union internationals have come to an end this weekend. I'll tell you, I have burned a lot of calories over the last few weeks shouting and jumping up and down in front of the tv. 

I am a big Wales fan. I'm a pretty big rugby fan, but I am a MASSIVE Wales rugby fan. My home team is the Ospreys and I am a huge fan of them too.  I have been to see them play and everything. I saw them lose against Saracens in the Heineken Cup quarter-final in April. That was a miserable day - the day it snowed all over London.

It was a real nerve jangler this weekend. Wales beating Australia 21-18, Australia scoring a try in the 79th minute to take them within a single try. I could've given myself a hernia if that was possible.

Last week against NZ I nearly peed my pants when the squad faced down the haka - it was so exciting. I wish they had another one before starting the second half because it clearly gave Wales a platform to go out and believe in themselves. I wish I'd been at the Millennium Stadium to see it live. 

I'm pretty excited about the six nations coming up in the new year, I'm definitely going to try to get tickets for the home matches - and for the others I'll get to a Welsh centric pub in London - somewhere like the Famous Three Kings. 

Lyrical Christmas

The Christmas show at the Lyric this year is a production of Cinderella directed by Melly Still (who directed Coram Boy at the National and the lovely Watership Down at the Lyric.)

I didn't see Coram Boy but it had terrific reviews. I did see Watership Down and it was a really great show - theatre at it's best really. Engaging, creative, imaginative, clever, well performed, beautifully directed.

Cinderella this year looks set to be a real Christmas treat for all the family (as long as everyone in your family is 7+).  I saw the first preview night and will be performing during the interval so I can confirm it's a brilliant show and will be especially brilliant when I am performing during the interval. 

Under 25's can get £10 tickets for most shows, and I'd say it's definitely a show worth seeing if only for the musician alone - who is INCREDIBLE. He plays instruments made of ice!

Coooold

Why has it been so bloody cold recently? Is it global warming? Is it because high gas prices mean that everyone (including me) is not putting the central heating on, resulting in a lower overall temperature for London?

That sounds like laughably bad science. I hope it's true. 

So, I'm trying to think of where is good in London to go when it's cold. 

Well,  I think a hot chocolate at Paul in Holland Park is always a warming treat. It's so thick and chocolaty it feels like swallowing hot melted chocolate. Yum yum. 

On a particularly miserable day which does not encourage running or other outdoors exercise - I like to go to the Janet Adegoke swimming pool. It's a good place to work up a heart rate and stay under a roof and in a warm (although stinking of chlorine) environment.

Albertine's is another great place to avoid the cold outdoors - warm yourself from the inside out with a big glass of rioja and a hot pudding. 

Is Christmas starting earlier or am I getting faster?

It's a big fat cliche isn't it? It gets whipped out every Winter - 'Christmas starts earlier every year'. Even in the belly of a monstrous credit crunch, the tinsel made an appearance in October and now, in November we are in full festive swing.

Westfield had barely been opened for a week before all the decor inside changed to Christmas decorations.

I don't mind it though. It's quite nice isn't it? When it starts getting cold, it makes you feel a bit warmer on the inside seeing all the sparkly lights above Oxford Street. It's certainly a better sight than the hoards of zombie shoppers underneath the lights. The Debenhams display went up quite early and I walk past it on my way to and from work. There are often tourists taking pictures of themselves in front of the dancing little reindeer. 

My boyfriend loves Christmas time - especially when Starbucks brings out the red cups. He adores their gingerbread lattes, which you can't get for the rest of the year. He bought one on the first day they started doing them (Nov 6th I think). And I reckon has probably had one every day since, though he won't admit it to me.

I'm actually quite excited about the Ice Fair that the posters all over Shepherd's Bush are promising for the Green. £1 entry (profits to the NSPCC- my top charity) and delights like a temporary ice rink, rides and stalls. I'll keep you posted - I think it's opening next week.

Venetian Highlights

on the stansted express on the way home :( 

the rialto bridge bathed in sunset (and tourists)

the 3rd day when the sun came out and with it, the gondolas

an umbrella using boat driver

sexy, mysterious bacaro

Ciao Bella

Ah. I went to Venice. I wish I was back there. What a wonderful city.

I can totally understand why so many writers choose to work in Venice, it's a place that commands creativity within it. I can also see why so many detective novels are set here - the place is so full of mystery and intrigue.

I had a pretty great time and did the thing of buying books set in Venice and reading them while in Venice. Daunt Books is a great place to stock up for that sort of thing. I read Death in Venice and also Don't Look Now. Every book I picked up seemed to involve some sort of death. But it never seemed like a dangerous or unsafe place, but it did feel like a place where strange things happen.

The main problem with Venice is that tourism makes up almost the entire business of the city - but the locals have a real disdain for tourists and will often try to rip you off. For example, we had a great time one night enjoying wine in Do Mori but then the next night the waiter totally shortchanged me and was pretty rude.

It has made me really want to learn to speak Italian.

Additionally, I think it would take years to review all the places in Venice. There's millions of tiny places everywhere, I think even if you lived there you would still discover new streets and alleys and churches and museums and shops and bars and restaurants and cafes....

Boom! Bang! Bleurgh!

Bonfire Night 2008.

Last year I had a tremendous bonfire night. Some friends of mine have kids and they live down the road from me and they had a big party with loads of kids and loads of homemade delicious things like soup, sausages and cakes. So I was really looking forward to it this year, perhaps a little too much.

We arrived and almost straight away I left again to go buy more marshmallows for the fire and more sparklers. You cannot begin to imagine how excited I was.

We return laden with marshmallows and sparklers and there are kids running around, dangerously close to fire and explosives. I am giddy with joy. I have some pumpkin soup. I have a sausage. I have a homemade toffee apple with a real stick in it (from a tree!) I have a brownie. I have some crumble. I have a potato. I have some marshmallows toasted on the fire.  I have way too much food. I have so much food that I am ill the next day.

Despite that it was still a great night. For the actual fireworks - being set off in a garden far too small to be remotely safe - the kids start chanting the names of the fireworks. So there's a gaggle of children all shouting 'Ring Shower Rocket! Ring Shower Rocket!' and we're setting off fireworks at an hilariously pedestrian rate. These are all things that I deeply love about Great Britain. Did you know you are not allowed to buy fireworks in the states? We're allowed to set them off in our own tiny gardens! And we're encouraged to do it every year!

Brilliant. I cannot wait for next Nov 5th. 

A New Bathroom and Nearly a New Month

So after nearly plummeting 3 feet into the foundations of my house after the floor of my bathroom had nearly disintegrated I have a lovely new bathroom floor. What a delight.

It was quite scary realising how much space there is beneath the floorboards. You could easily fit an entire gaggle of dead bodies underneath your own house. And yes, gaggle is the correct collective term, so there.

This is a pretty exciting time coming up in the next two weeks. First we have Westfield opening on Thursday - I intend to go and see if they are giving out free things (If you ever want me to go anywhere, just offer free things) and try to evaluate how much of my time will now be spent there. I'm really hoping the cinema will rival the Vue across the road and they will lower prices.

After that we have Halloween. Oooooooh! I'm going to a party where the theme is 'Aliens from Planet Terror Vision'. I have no idea what to wear or bring.

Then a few days later we have the US elections which I have been obsessing over. (OBAMA! OBAMA!) I intend to stay up all night watching it unfold and getting infuriated by the stupidity of Americans, whilst being soothed by the intelligence of other Americans.

The day after that is Bonfire Night! Woo! I am going to the same party I went to last year, which was a bloody hoot. Essentially it was a kid's party, at a friend's house. It was ridiculously dangerous. We were setting off fireworks in a tiny garden with about 20 small kids running around. There will be pumpkin soup, sausages and cakes. I can't wait.

So I'm getting pretty excited just writing about all these things. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Free Fair Trade

I was browsing through the H&F news - the free paper that gets delivered to everyone in he borough - I was specifically looking for any competitions because hardly anyone ever enters them so the chances of winning are pretty good. Annoyingly, there were no competitions but I did see a little notice for a fair trade stall that would be giving out free fair trade items in the Broadway Centre in Hammersmith on Friday at 4.30pm.

Seeing as I had nothing better to do on Friday afternoon and getting something for free is better than any chances in a competition I thought I'd go along to have a butcher's.

Unsurprisingly it was a tiny stall overwhelmed by commuters with a disappointing amount of free stuff. Here's what I managed to swipe: one fair trade tea bag, one fair trade individual packet of coffee and THREE fair trade snack bars. They were limiting the snack bars to one per person but I had walked all the way from Shepherd's Bush so I managed to purloin one of each flavour and didn't feel too bad about it.

Especially as I knew I'd blog about it here and raise the profile of fair trade in the borough even further among my readership of 3. That was the point of the freebies - to raise awareness about fair trade in H&F and the whole of London as it's Fair Trade London month or something.

I love fair trade. You should too. There we go, job done. Awareness firmly raised.

WestField

Westfield is due to open at the end of this month. Up til now I've only really felt a bit of anger and annoyance at it, but as the grand launch is approaching I guess I am starting to feel a bit excited about it.

For those of you who don't know what Westfield is, here is a brief explanation. Westfield is supposedly going to be Europe's largest shopping and entertainment complex within a city (i.e. not an out of town one). There will be over 250 retail shops, nearly 50 eateries, people who will park your car and carry your shopping, a big cinema, places that'll look after your kids while you shop. It sounds insane. Like the spaceship in Wall-E that all the humans live on. The transport links to it are to die for. About 4 tube stops are within spitting distance, there's a brand new overground station which spills directly into the complex, a new bus station in the same place and 4,500 car parking spaces.

It's going to be bloody massive.

But Shepherd's Bush is one of the most culturally diverse areas of London with a lot of independent businesses that may suffer deeply from the huge competition that Westfield poses. On the other hand, it may bring a lot more people to Shepherd's Bush and the local businesses may benefit from additional custom. However, I don't really see that happening as the entire place is designed to be self-sustaining - like once you go there you need never go anywhere else. For the rest of your life.

I am quite excited about it now though. We'll have an Eat. and a Yo! Sushi!

New Hair Yum Yum

So I have really neglected my hair over the last year. I got it salvaged by Rick at the Rose & Crown who did a sterling job and then I made him bleach it blonde and I failed to maintain it to any standard at all for the last 9 months. So I had half dark, half blonde hair, that I'd cut a bit myself as there were bits at the back, as it grew longer, that really annoyed me.

My hair, suffice to say, was a bloody shambles.

I thought I'd go back to being a brunette as it is a lot easier to keep up, but my manager said she likes it blonde and reckons it should stay blonde. So I thought I'd invest in it and had a look on the net and especially on Qype (of course) for someone who comes recommended as a good colourist. I found Sarah at Wedge and booked myself in.

I won't go into the details but she has done a terrific job on what was a very challenging prospect. Also, I didn't feel really judged for having failed to look after my hair and for self administering dodgy cuts. The salon was really cool, and Sarah was just great. I'm really pleased with the job she's done on my hair and I've definitely go back, because the cut is excellent too.

Sinking into Narnia

A great start to the day. My boyfriend tells me the toilet is broken - not that he broke it, mind - that it is broken. It broke all by itself. I'm not surprised though, because we have a problem where the floor in our bathroom is subsiding and when you sit on the toilet it feels like you're falling into Narnia.

We complained about it to the landlord months ago when it started, but they said it was fine so it's almost been like we've been waiting for something like this to happen to prove that every time we use the bathroom we're in danger of slipping into the underworld.

Now hopefully they'll sort it out properly and replace the bath which is seeping damp through the walls.

It must sound like I live in a real palace. It's an old London house, so you expect a bit of nonsense, but extreme toilet adventures is going a bit far. Dodgy insulation, high heating prices and ridiculous water charges I expect - but not the danger of falling into an early grave every time nature calls.

Annoyingly, as it's a Saturday they can't get the contractors in to fix it properly so a little Irish plumber came around to temporarily fix up the loo until Monday. We just have to make sure we go about it very daintily. The worry is that Monday will come and the contractor comes and says 'oh, yeah, this is a big job. You won't have a bathroom for 2 weeks'. Eeek. I think the landlord is contractually obliged to put us up somewhere that does have a bathroom but what a pain in the arse that'll be. Excuse the pun.

Hair Bear

Some people are awful, aren't they?

I had a casting last week to do some hair modelling. I was pretty surprised they asked me back because my hair is a state at the moment - two tone, shapeless etc etc. But they did, and I thought, oh great, maybe they'll sort it out and I won't have to pay for someone to do it.

I went back to the second casting, where they were deciding what to do with all the girls' hair, and I waited around for 2 hours, yes TWO BLOODY hours for this Italian old geezer to come up to me and try to bully me into getting my hair cut much shorter than I wanted. He literally backed me up into a corner and said "with deepest respect your hair is in terrible condition and you should let us start from the beginning". What I should've said was, 'with deepest respect, up you!' but I just said that I thought that would be the case and I didn't know why I'd been asked back.

Grrrr. He was so rude and such a bully. With every girl he tried to coerce them into having a cut they didn't want. He was oleaginous and awful.

At the very least it has provoked me into going to a salon to get my hair done by a professional. So, watch this space and we'll see how it goes.

Olympic Parade

Today was the Olympic parade through London. I only realised when I saw live coverage of it on the BBC. That's a bit of a shame because I might've gone down to join in with the celebrations as I bloody love the olympics and paralympics.

It seemed to be under publicised - I'm saying that because I was unaware it was happening and as an obsessive reader of sports news, I would have thought I might have read about it.

Thankfully it was a lovely day for it. The sun was shining and there were a fair few people out to cheer on our awesome athletes. Not as many as for the rugby world cup winners parade or the ashes parade (wasn't that a boozy hoot), but I hope there were enough people to make the athletes feel as celebrated as they deserve to feel. Which is loads and loads. There's something about sporting achievement that is so pure and heart-warming, it really gets me. And putting that alongside Britain's usual position of 'also ran' being smashed to the side as our nation became a nation of champions made me genuinely really proud to be British.

I can't wait for 2012. Well, I can. There's the Ashes of next year, several Six Nations and the next rugby world cup to get involved in before then. I'm still very excited about it, nonetheless.

I Wish We Had A Barack Obama

Me and my friends have been getting way too interested in the American elections, with the big one less than a month away we find ourselves reading an insane amount about it on the internet.

When I think about it, and gosh, I do get wrapped up in thinking about it, I'm always left with a feeling of exclusion. Because as excited as we can get about the idea of Obama becoming president, it doesn't directly impact on our lives here in London. The thought of British government elections fills me with ennui, like I've over eaten salty porridge. What exciting choices do we have?

Take the Mayoral election - a choice of Ken, who'd clearly had it, or Boris who is clearly entertaining, but mental. What sort of option is that? It's difficult to even say a labour vote is a given for me because the party seems to be operating beyond, through and out of party principles. Where is our Barack Obama? It is obviously not Gordon Brown.

Maybe we are not so desperate for change. Perhaps Britain isn't in so terrible a situation that we need something as re-energising as a Barack Obama to refocus our country. I can't help but feel that if Obama wins, it will help us here in the UK.

I think I'm in love with Obama. What a dude. If he doesn't win, I'm going to freak out.

Bleurgh

I have a bloody stomach bug. Oh, it's horrible. Perhaps it's karma because I've had such a nice two weeks, but if it is karma, karma is being a real dick.

I had a similar thing a few months ago. This time it's not so bad because the last time I couldn't leave the house, I could barely leave the bathroom. With this one, it started last night when I started feeling queasy so decided to go to bed early. I couldn't get to sleep because of the nausea and I had chills alternating with a fever. I spent a good few hours trying to sleep until at about 4am I bolted to the bathroom to be sick. I thought it would be a relief to have finally puked, but the nausea, chills and cramps continued until I had to get up for work at 7am.

Fortunately, today is a very slow day at work and after describing my previous night's adventures to my boss she said I could go lay down on one of the sofas for a while. So I did, and I feel slightly better but still like someone has stolen my insides and I'm walking around trying to stay upright without having a skeleton.

I can't wait to go home and go to bed.

Does anyone recommend anything? I'm just drinking water very slowly, and I had a banana. The problem I have is that I'm still not registered with a GP in London (that's a sort of long story, perhaps the subject of another blog) so all I have is NHS Direct, or the pharmacists in the Bush Pharmacy. They are great but I can't rely on them for all my medical queries, it'll get embarrassing.

Three Countries in two Weeks

I had my jet set trip to Ireland last week so I thought I'd top that off with a trip home to the motherland this weekend. I needed to go home to record some things for my brother, and it was one of my cousin's 30th birthday parties, so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and get on the train to Cardiff.

What's really annoying is that had I booked my tickets just a few days earlier (1 week, instead of 4 days) then the price would be halved. So I paid pretty much full price for an off peak return with young person's railcard discount (£40 ish). If I'd booked a week in advance I could've got singles for about £10 each way. Curses. Spontaneity is not cheap.

An additional concern for my bank balance came in the fact that I was feeling quite generous so I bought, for the first time in my life, a dozen assorted Krispy Kremes for the family. I felt like some sort of American style hero carrying the big box of donuts from London to Wales. I didn't even eat one on the train. You see, you cannot get Krispy Kremes in Wales and my brother loves them. So they are a real treat for my family who rarely come to London. It did cost me £9 though. For 12 donuts, that isn't terrific. I could've bought a quality pub sunday roast for that.

I Heart London

I had one of those days where you end up in the middle of town for some work reason and when you leave your meeting you discover you have some free time, and you're on the Thames.

I came out and crossed back over Westminster Bridge from County Hall and decided to walk to Fleet Street. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful autumn day. I walked past the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, The Mall, Trafalgar Square and the Royal Courts of Justice.

The whole time I was wondering around and actually looking at all the stuff and thinking 'I am so grateful to be living in London, what a beautiful, detailed, historical, impressive, glorious city. I really must appreciate it more often.'

I had lunch in Fleet Street and then got the bus to Paddington. i was going to Ladbroke Grove but because of the bus strikes the 23 wasn't running so I went to Paddington and then walked to Ladbroke Grove. I got to see another amazing part of London that I rarely get to see - aimly the grand Georgian architecture of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. It's quite wonderful how many people actually get to live in these beautiful houses in this Mary Poppins area of London. How lovely it must be to live in one of those buildings and have keys to the private gardens. One day..

Then I walked through Portobello Market, met some friends for coffee and after that walked home to Shepherd's Bush from Ladbroke Grove.

My legs ache a bit, but my mind is jiggling with how much I love London. It's days like this that make you forget about how horrendously expensive it is to live here. And walking is always free.

Showbiz October

Well my October started off with a bang. Boom! Just like that.

I was flown to Dublin for 6.5 hours and then I was flown back again. BA sandwiches all paid for and everything. Glamorous. It was for a radio show which is quite exciting, and my gran will be able to listen to it when it gets broadcast. It's not Hollywood, but I've never been to Ireland before so I was delighted. Not so delighted to only see Dublin from a car window. However, I did manage to get my flatmate a great birthday present from the airport. 

I flew from London City airport. Goodness, that's how airports should be run. What a delight it was to check in on one of those fast-ticket type machines, then saunter to your gate without so much of a queue or a whiff of baggage handlers messing things up.

I also went to see some friends in a show they were doing at the Apollo Shaftesbury Avenue on Sunday night and that was great. Good show, good show. 

I've also had a casting to do some hair modelling at an expo next week, so I'm really hoping they will pay me, and do my (by now absurd) roots for free. I'm having a pretty good time of it really. I only hope it continues for....well, the rest of my life would be ideal.

Funny Ha Ha or Funny Peculiar

My housemate has just started up a monthly event called the 'open arts cafe' (which I think sounds a bit rude, but I've got a very juvenile sense of humour). It's a multi discipline event which means it has actors doing acting, writers getting actors to read out writing, poets doing poems and musicians doing music. The first one (which was the 25th) also included us doing some comedy.

Now, the problem with doing comedy in the middle of a bunch of other things is that comedy is its own unique form of communication and has its own relationship to an audience. So to stick it in between a scene about domestic abuse and a duo joyfully larking about on ukuleles, it doesn't quite work. Because with comedy you need an audience to understand that they are the other person in the conversation, and if you've just had them sitting and quietly listening in to a scene, then they don't realise they have to step up to the plate and engage mentally and vocally when the comic comes on.

Anyway, it went alright, but it was a tough gig for us. It's a very interesting night though, with free entry (donations only), free wine and nibbles provided. So as an audience member you can't complain.

The other funny thing is that it's in a synagogue. Funny peculiar that is.

A Kick up the Coca

This week I have been very busy doing a full time job in town, right near Oxford Circus.

It's been quite pleasant, but mostly unremarkable.

Here are some things I will remark upon:

Lunchtimes have been alright. I have been going to Boots and doing the old 'meal deal' which consists of any sandwich/salad plus drink plus snack for £3.49. Aside from the fact that it is cheaper outside London - in Swansea it was £2.79 at one point but I think it's up to £2.99 now - it is an excellent lunch deal. What I also like about Boots' food is that they label the nutritional advice very clearly and the traffic light system (red = bad, green = great, yellow = ok, but don't go overboard) means you know exactly what you are putting in yourself each day. Every day I have got an Innocent smoothie as part of the deal (they cost nearly two quid by themselves) and a snack that I have munched on to pass the time in the afternoon.

Something that amused me:

There was a fire alarm in the building opposite so when I went out there were hundreds of business and fashion people just hanging around the street looking like fish out of water. Take away some people's desks and they don't know how to function.

Today I found a gift that my very good friend brought me from when she used to live in Columbia. Kokasana, which is coca tea, which is tea made with coca leaves, which are also used to make cocaine. There was a drive a few years ago in Columbia to de-demonize the coca leaf and reclaim it as an essential part of indigenous culture. And also they believed that every leaf they used for harmless, natural products was a leaf taken from the hands of the narcotics gangs.

If you've seen Bruce Parry's Amazon show you'll know indigenous peoples chew the leaves and drink coca tea to stave off hunger and to fight the effects of altitude sickness. As I've got 4 hours til lunchtime I thought I'd have one to start off the day. It was alright. What was good about it was I did some research about it and sadly discovered that the indigenous people's attempts have been totally overturned by the government's new ban on any coca products in the shops - just when an energy drink called Coca Sek was rushing off the shelves (and just as Coca Cola kicked off a law suit about the use of the word 'coca' - an indigenous word 1000's of years old).

It seems to me a sorry thing if the fights the indigenous people are trying to develop strength for against the cocaine industry's destruction of Columbia are undermined by the government. That's not a terrifically written sentence I'll grant you, but I'm just trying to express some concern and frustration towards the seemingly chaotic relationship between government and indigenous peoples.

So there you go. Lunch deals at Boots and concern over Columbia.

November the 9th

Well. It is 9/11. Thought I'd mention it.

Seven years have passed. That is bloody terrifying. I was 17. Young. Naive. Thin. 

What's changed?

I am not naive for starters. I am no longer a provincial Welsh girl but a hardened Londoner. I speak fluent cockney rhyming slang. I can sell you 5 for a pound - of ANYTHING.

This is not a particularly insightful or interesting blog post. 

Back to Black

Hello!

I am back in London after a rather wet August in Edinburgh. Did you miss me? Of course you did! You nearly packed it all in for want of some words from my keyboard!

Well, calm down, boil the kettle, get a Yorkshire gold down you and we can all relax and get on with the harvest month of September. Is September a harvest month? I don't actually know. It sounds nice though doesn't it. Like it has a point, other than kids going back to school or an excuse for my landlord to try and raise my rent in an horrendously louche manner.

You've got a lot to look forward to ladies and gents. A whole host of my opinions on where's good and where's awful in Edinburgh and particularly about the festival. Stock up on tips now for next year! It'll come around so fast you won't know what hit you.

Other highlights coming up between now and the end of the year:

My housemate's birthday!*

Halloween!*

Bonfire Night!*

My brother's birthday!

My auntie's birthday!

My dad's birthday!

Christmas!

My little brother's birthday!

* denotes an excellent time was had in 2007

As you will see from the birthdays - I will be spending more money in this latter half of the year. I will be seeking out good places to get gifts and cheap places. Ideally what I want is something that looks expensive but is not at all. Any ideas?

Arts & Crafts

My house is currently a big mess with newspapers all over the floor and bits of paint and card everywhere.

We have been making props for our show, you see.

We went to CAS - the art shop on Tottenham Court Road and ended up spending a surprising amount of money. Their slogan is 'let's fill this town with artists' and I imagine the next part of the line says 'and charge them loads of money for simple things'.

So I've been scouting about for better places to get arts and crafts products. My favourite is probably the many £1 shops around London that sell a huge range of items including paints, stationary and toys - and all for only a pound each! Also, Smiths is usually quite good for affordable things - and was the only place we could find t-shirt transfer paper (although this was quite expensive).

Of course, schools are a good place to steal things from and your own work - but this can often prove tricky.

Latitude

What a great festival!

More Wimbledon

Andy Murray's match today was phenomenal. Totally stunning. The stuff of movies. And exemplary of why I love sport, tennis and Wimbledon.

To be honest, Sunday was a bit of a relief. There was no play on Sunday as all the scheduled matches had happened as miraculously there was hardly any rain last week so everyone got a day off. You see, I got a day off too. I was relieved of the anxiety of worrying that I was missing some of Wimbledon - which is a constant fear during the first week as so many great matches happen at the same time.

Chris Eaton's progress through qualifying and then to the 2nd round was like a fairytale and I really hope he goes on to do bigger and more exciting things. (although what is possibly more exciting than being British and playing on Centre Court or Court One?)

I am beside myself that Murray is through to the quarters. I have been a fan of his since his days of being in the top 500 and his Davis Cup debut. Now, my plan all week was to go to Wimbers on Wednesday - which is now when Murray will face Rafa Nadal. I am itching out of my skin to go and see this in the flesh but I have a concern.

The only time I went to see the Ospreys last season they lost. And it was miserable.

What if I bring bad luck?

That's a terribly arrogant thing to think but it's a fear that can stop you actually enjoying supporting your player/team. I remember my grandmother frequently leaving the room when Henman was playing because she thought that they very act of her watching was impeding his progress!

Hopefully I will make it on Wednesday, and I will queue and I will cheer maniacally and Murray will win.

Wimbledon 4 Me 4EVA

Wimbledon began this week and it is my favourite two weeks of the entire year.

I LOVE WIMBLEDON.

I love tennis, but by god, I adore Wimbledon.

I think the main thing I love is the fact that the BBC shows it nearly all day, every day the championships is on. I'm sure for some people who couldn't give a fig about tennis then this must be a great inconvenience on their regular TV schedule but I can't get enough of it.

Every year I make plans to go and then I never end up going. Usually because I can't find anyone to go with. This year, however, I have wooed my partner with the joys of tennis and he is now a proper tennis fan. You must appreciate that this is quite an achievement for me as he is quite staunchly anti-sport.

I'm hoping to go this year but unfortunately this has also been one of my busiest late June/early July I've had in some years. I'm currently rehearsing/writing two shows for performances on the 8th, 9th, 15th and 24th of July. This highly impedes on my Wimbledon time.

I entered the public ballot for tickets but never got any, so the only option is to queue because I am nowhere near being able to afford debentures.

C'MON ANDY/ANY BRITISH PLAYER!

Tube Etiquette

I was on my way home this evening, using the Central Line, embarking at Holborn at approx 6.35pm.

Now, anyone with any sense at all, and with any sort of choice, does not travel on the London Underground (ever?) between the hours of 5pm and 7pm. And definitely not between the stations of Bank and Notting Hill Gate on the Central line. Particularly on a day when it had suffered severe delays due to a person under a train at Mile End.

Now, I did know what I was doing when I decided to get the Central line home from Holborn today, but sometimes people go too far. And it is often business people. Grrrrr. I was stuffed onto the doors of the carriage, not able to lift my head fully because of the curve of the train, when a smelly business man decides that although I don't have enough room to avoid looking like I've got rickets, he has enough room to read a newspaper.

I can tell you, dear readers, he did not have enough room to read a newspaper. This was evident in the fact that every time he turned the page, his newspaper would hit me in my cowed and increasingly angry face. He didn't seem to notice this and continued reading despite my breath wiggling the pages.

I tried sighing and huffing in a really obvious fashion - I couldn't move my head! And he was squashing me into the wall so he could stretch out and catch up on the news! I hate him!

We'd got to Queensway by now and I'd had enough, I had to do something. So I got out my current read (Doris Lessing 'The Habit of Loving' - very good) which was actually TINY compared to his big fat newspaper, but the presence of it made him realise there was not enough room for me to read a paperback you could fit in your pocket, let alone a bloody big bit of media toss. Just as I was about to revel in the enjoyment of asserting myself and passive aggressively educating the selfish business man as to the physics of rush hour and reading newspapers, he got off.

Alton Towers

As a birthday treat for my boyfriend we went to Alton Towers.

I've never been, but he'd been as a kid and was very very very excited. He woke up extra early and had a shower and was all dressed and ready to go before I'd even woken up.

We then drove all the way to Alton (in just under 3 hours from Shepherd's Bush with one petrol stop). We arrived at about 11am with the weather not looking too great, and it seemed like there were a lot of cars there already as we tumbled out of the car and got our waterproofs on.

We made our way to the monorail and hardly waited for one to roll us off to the main entrance. What is nice about the monorail is that it gives you views over parts of the park, like a preview of the rides you can later go on. What I found quite funny was that when we did get to the main entrance it was really not very far away from where we parked the car at all.

Here are my top tips for Alton Towers:

Go on a rainy-ish day mid-week during term time. It will keep the crowds away and drastically reduce your queuing time. The quite time for Oblivion was only 5 minutes at one point during the day!

Take a packed lunch. The food on offer is generally not great, mostly fast food, overpriced. There are some great spots to eat your packed lunch including the rather beautiful gardens.

The gardens and the towers themselves are what make Alton Towers something more than your average theme park. My housemate loves English History and was delighted by the fact that you can wander around the towers (which are currently being restored).

Make sure you go on Oblivion, Air and Hex. Just brilliantly designed rides.

Up and Down and Side to Side

From London to Cardiff to Swansea to Cockermouth (no jokes, please - they asked) to Windermere to London.

That was my itinerary of the last week. It involved a lot of driving. I am tired.

The Lake District is superlatively beautiful. If you haven't been, I must insist you make a visit there because it must surely be one of the most breathtakingly beautiful areas in Britain.

On our way back from Cockermouth (the locals call it Knobingob) we thought we'd pass through Windermere (I'm a great fan) and take lunch there. So I stuck Lake Windermere into the TomTom and dutifully followed all its directions until it ended up directing us into the lake itself, at which point I figured that TomTom probably didn't realise that I meant 'a pub or restaurant near Lake Windermere with lovely views of the lake' and actually thought I meant 'please direct me to the very middle of the lake where my aqua car will take us on a journey to the depths'.

If only, but I was driving a KA, and not a Bond vehicle, so we re-directed and eventually ended up in the twee town of Windermere for a lovely spot of lunch.

The moral is: generally it is good to trust the TomTom, but always remember to use common sense and your eyes.

To Drive or Not to Drive

Living in London poses quite awkward transport questions, particularly if you frequently need to leave London or haul loads of stuff around the capital.


I'm originally from Wales, where it was extremely useful to have a car (and I passed my test at 17 so I could drive to college) but when I went to university I lost that privilege. When I say I lost that privilege, what I mean is that I wasn't allowed to take a car with me to my university and when I wasn't looking my dad sold my car.

So now I live in London and I more often than not don't need a car. But I do sometimes. Like when I have gigs in far away places, or when I have to haul props across town. So I joined Streetcar which is a pay-as-you-go car club.

It has served me pretty well, excepting when I have needed to go long distances as they charge by the mile rather than petrol. I have also rented a few cars, which has been OK, but most rental companies charge a young driver surcharge, which makes it quite poor value.

I still think both of those options are considerably cheaper than owning a car in London, but I do wish it was all a bit cheaper, especially considering how expensive public transport is - and how poor it is!

Beauty in the Basement

So I went to my appointment at the Beauty Basement in Holborn to make use of my free facial today.

I found it fairly easily because I made sure I had enough time and I had a good proper look at a map before I got there.

I was a bit worried about it all as I've never had any beauty treatments in my life - I'm not really that kind of girl - although I'm sure I would be if I could afford it. I was apprehensive about whether I'd worn the right thing, whether my face should or shouldn't have make up on it, whether my hair should be washed, up, down......many concerns that were ultimately pointless worrying about.

I arrived with a few minutes to spare, and no one was there in the tiny basement. I sat down and helped myself to a magazine while I waited. Shortly after someone came out to tell me that I would be dealt with shortly.

I was shown into a tiny treatment room and had to sort of take my top off (because the therapist didn't want to get any product on my clothes). I got on the bed, under a towel while the therapist lit some candles and put on some generic relaxing music. It was actually very calming and relaxing.

She then did a series of things to my face which I can only assume involved cleansing, toning, exfoliating and moisturising. There was one moment when she upped the lights and did a sort of skin consultation, where she asked what my skin care routine was and had a good look at my skin and talked me through it. My main problems are dry skin and needing to exfoliate dead skin cells, and rehydrating by drinking more water.

It lasted over 30 minutes which was double what I was told - which wasn't in any way inconvenient, it was a lovely surprise as it felt like she really took her time over me. After it was over they offered me a 20% discount on a further treatment if I booked it then, but I needed time to deliberate so missed out on the 20% deal. She also recommended a product for me, which I thought might have been a bit hard sell-esque but then I realised that I really need advice when it comes to buying beauty products for myself.

It was overall a great experience and I'm now much less scared of the beauty industry.

June Bug

June is the onset of Summer proper isn't it? So of course it started off with a shed load of rain.



There's lots to look forward to in June though. Parks, late nights outside, bbqs, hanging about the Thames, hanging about in beer gardens...

The problem with nice weather and beautiful days spent boozing amongst nature's joys, it means that no one ever goes to comedy gigs. This is a bit of a problem for anyone involved in putting on comedy nights, as you just don't get an audience because the sun gets much better crowds than any other kind of headliner.

So my plea to you is this - if you are enjoying a balmy summer evening - why not try a comedy gig as a slight distraction. You can still booze away and enjoy a few laughs, the only lasting thing the sun will give you is sunburn, you can enjoy jokes for as long as you can remember them...

Beauty and Chocolate

Today I remembered I was given an Aero Easter egg by my aunt, at Easter, which included a gift certificate redeemable at selected beauty salons.

When I found it and had another look, I saw that I had to book by tomorrow to redeem my treatment. So I got on the web and had a look at which salons were participating and there are not that many, but I got on the blower and called up The Beauty Basement.

I opted for them after browsing the others' websites and locations because they're in Holborn, which is much easier than Twickenham, Cricklewood or Wimbledon. It seems slightly strange to me that there is only one participating salon in the whole of central London, but my hand was forced, I called them up.

Fortunately the girl on the phone knew exactly what I was talking about with the gift certificate - as I feared there might be an embarrassing moment of me asking for a free facial and them not knowing anything about it - but no problems and she explained how it worked and very patiently waited while I looked for my card (for the booking).

Now, I'm pretty scared because I've never been to a salon for any beauty treatments in my life. I'm 23 years old, and a lady, but I've never had a facial or massage or even a manicure. What's the protocol? Do I not wear make-up, do I tip, what do I do?? Help!

I'm booked in for Thurs. If anyone has any guidelines for me, that'd be dandy.

Full Time Temp, Part Time Fun

I've been pretty busy this month - I spent the first few days in Turkey and came home to find a buoyant haired man as the mayor of my city. So it kicked off fairly eventfully.



Then I had a few gigs, including a preview of my Edinburgh show, that we did in Cambridge.



May also involves a whole heap of Bank Holidays, which is nice, but also means I have less work.



You see, I work part time, on a Monday and Tuesday. If there's a bank holiday though, I don't work either - and I don't get paid. So I needed to beef up my income this month and did a bit of extra temping.

The temp job I've had this week has actually been a total delight, and it's the only time I've come out of a temp gig and wished that I permanently worked there. The people there made it so much fun that I actually enjoyed going to work and was not itching to leave at the end of the day. I guess when people find a job they enjoy doing, then it makes the whole prospect of work not as terrible as I generally perceive it to be. The other thing that makes all the difference is the people you work with. If you would deliberately spend time outside of work with the people you work with, then work must seem just like hanging out but with some chores to do while you hang out.

Is this a regular feeling for people who have proper jobs? Or does everyone hate working, like I do?

We're gonna party like it's May

The Qype May soiree was last night.

It was the first one I have attended, having been so exceptionally busy that I was unable to attend previous do's.

A free bar is a thing of joy, isn't it? To go to a bar and order a drink and then just walk off with it, without having to pay is a pleasure usually only reserved for weddings and awards ceremonies. I love it. My plan is win (or even just get nominated for) loads of awards, so I can enjoy many free bars at many awards ceremonies.

I didn't actually get to speak to many people, as I concentrated on making a qype logo out of a piece of blutak I had. Perhaps that gives you a slight indication as to my incredible schmoozing skills.

Maybe my first award can be 'person most unable to talk to new people'.

Up Town Girl

So this week I'm working in town, just off Oxford Street and I really feel like I'm part of the rat race.

This is somewhat preferable to when I was working in Wembley and all there was for lunch was Subway, and I hate Subway. Whereas here, as I fall out of the door, I am bombarded with choices for lunch and also by shopping opportunities.

I'm not sure there would be much point in me working in town permanently, because I would go and spend money as quickly as I earn it. Not that I'm some awful stereotype of shopaholic woman - I'm really not - but when you're constantly surrounded by things that are pretty, and tasty, and you know you've earned a few pounds that morning, it is difficult to resist.

For my lunch today I had 2 new dresses. And a soup from Eat, which I love.

I do like working in town. It makes me feel modern and trendy and affluent, even though I am probably only 1 of those things at best.

Lord's and ladies

The Summer has truly begun when the English cricket season begins in earnest with an international test match at Lord's.

My passion for cricket is only matched by my boyfriend's hatred of both cricket and my passion for cricket. This really puts a lot of undue strain on our relationship. The thing is, I simply adore it and I can't be wavered on that.

I'll tell you for why. (have I already told you? well, you can hear it again)

I was on a tour in 2005, doing a show all around this fair country of ours. We would arrive at a different town every day, and be deposited and left to our own devices while the technical team would fit up the venue.

So I would wander off and find some pub to sit in and the Ashes would be on in every single pub.

The 2005 Ashes was a glorious baptism of cricket. It was exciting, dramatic, well-poised, emotional, and above all, kept me entertained across the entire country during that summer.

You see, I couldn't turn my back on something that saved me so graciously. And now I follow it avidly, and I love listening to TMS, I adore going to grounds and I am delighted to watch it in a pub.

However, I would like to watch it at home, at my convenience. So if anyone would like to sponsor my cricket fanaticism, please do get in touch and I'll let you watch it with me.

May May May

After the snows of April we had the minor heat wave of May.

Wasn't it lovely?

Yes, it was BushGirl, it was glorious.

I do love a heat wave, minor or not. It brings everyone outside and makes you realise how many people actually live in London, as you can actually see most of them.

Now, people tend to flock to the public spaces and I'm going to give you a few tips about my neck of the woods.

Ravenscourt Park is the nicest park in the area. It is large, relatively clean and popular with joggers, dog walkers and families. It is very easy to get to as Ravenscourt Park station on the district line is right next door.

For some sports activities, Hammersmith Park (behind TV centre in White City) has tennis courts and a basketball court, and a big bit of astro turf which is frequently in use. If you like to play tennis or netball amongst drunks and homeless, then head to Shepherd's Bush Green - affectionately known as Shepherd's Bush Brown by the locals - and bang a few balls through the very holey nets. Additionally, if you enjoy the scent of Special Brew on the air, this is a lovely place to enjoy the sun.

If you like to bask in sunshine in a public place that doesn't have needles and cans strewn about, I recommend heading down to Brook Green - which is actually green. The tennis courts here are in much better nick, but you do have to pay for them if the man comes round when you're there. And the grassy bit tends to attract young ladies who lounge about in not very much clothing. Some people like that. Others prefer White Diamond out of a plastic bag. You can't say that West London doesn't provide choice.

Other choices - Holland Park is lovely, large and pretty. Hyde Park is a bit further away and is enormous and probably can fulfill your park needs on any level.

Bath-ing

My flatmate's mother is visiting, which is quite stressful. They argue with each other a lot, which offends my British sensibilities. On Tuesday night they were having an argument about what to do on Wednesday. They wanted to go to Bath, but train tickets were extraordinarily expensive, and the mother suggested that she rent a car. My flatmate freaked out because they are from America and as such drive automatic cars on the wrong side of the road. So she exclaimed that there was no way she was going to get into a 'stick shift' car that her mother was driving on British soil.

Gallantly, I stepped in and I accidentally agreed to drive to Bath.

God bless the boys at Enterprise in Hammersmith as they dealt with a rather insane French-American woman with good grace and humour, giving us an upgrade and 10% discount.

So, we all squeezed into our rental car - me, the mother, the flatmate and my boyfriend who had haplessly agreed to come along - and we set off for Bath.

About 2 hours later we arrived in Bath, parked up at the big car park (£1 an hour) and got out to explore the cleanest town in Britain.

If you've never been to Bath, then it's certainly worth a visit. It's more worth a visit if you have an interest in any of the following:

The Romans
Jane Austen
Georgian architecture
Thermal water
Spas
The history of public bathing

It's a beautiful town which breathes with its own history. Any TV or film adaptation of an Austen novel is always filmed here. Highlights are:

The Roman Baths (£10 entry) and the Pump Room.
Royal Crescent (£5 for museum)
The Circus
Thermae Bath Spa (sessions from £13)
Bath Abbey (suggested donation £2)

Mamamamamamamaris

I can heartily recommend a holiday to Turkey. It is a country full of delights (pun intended).

Next time I visit I would like to go to Istanbul. The history and culture there, I've heard, is phenomenal.

I can only postulate about how lovely Istanbul is, but I can give you the lowdown on Marmaris and Icmeler.

Marmaris is a small city, seemingly populated with British tourists and slightly whiffs of Benidorm. This is a bit of a shame. If you, like me, like to go to foreign places to see foreign places, rather than have gammon and egg but in the sun. I don't even eat gammon and egg in London. The good thing about Marmaris being so orientated towards British tourists is obviously that most people speak English, and generally they speak good English.

Another odd thing that some British tourists might like is that many things - food, drinks, gifts, excursions - are priced in pounds.

If you'd like a midway point between the Butlins-in-the-sun feel of bits of Marmaris and a real taste of Turkey then the English-speaking-friendly resort of Icmeler will do it for you.

Quieter, calmer, smaller and slightly more authentic, Icmeler is the sister resort to Marmaris, 15 minutes by car away. It's a beautiful little town, with a nice beach with spectacular views across the bays.

Some tips: buy your gifts from the shops by the canal or the Wednesday market. Boat trips are great value - shop around for one you most like the look of. Ephesus is quite a drive away, I wish that in retrospect we had hired a car and driven ourselves, as we felt we didn't have as much time actually in Ephesus as we would've liked (and it only cost £4 to get in, and we paid £35 each for the whole trip). Also, I think we could've visited Pamukkale too if we'd hired our own car.

A Londoner's Guide to Icmeler

The sun came out! And of course, I got sunburned. Despite the best efforts of SPF25, I've got red wings across my back.

I thought I'd give a few tips from the things I've learnt in the few days I've been here.

Don't use your hotel for booking excursions and suchlike. We used them to book a Turkish bath, and paid substantially more then if we'd gone to one of the many agents in the town.

Do have a Turkish bath. It's great. We were taken to one of the fanciest in Marmaris, but that also means one of the most touristy and most expensive. We paid 55YTL each for the hamam, soap massage, scrub, jacuzzi, face mask and oil massage. Which is about £22. Of course, in London, that's peanuts for nearly 2 hours of massages and the like, but we could've gone to a smaller hamam and paid more like £10 for the same treatments.

Walk around and have a look before making decisions. I know that seems obvious, but the way here is that staff from bars, restaurants, shops, etc. will try to lure you into their businesses. This can get annoying, and we've found that we like the places that don't do that as much. Especially at this time of year, at the beginning of the season when there are hardly any tourists around. Staff, nearly everywhere, are exceptionally friendly and speak good English.

Go on excursions! There are a quite a few activities around the area which are well worth investing in. Not least because they are so cheap. An all day boat trip, with stops at various beaches, lunch and all inclusive drinks, will set you back round £10. And it's a beautiful way to see the coastal scenery of the area.

I must go, the sun has got his hat on again, and there's a market in town today.

The Rain in Spain

Falls mainly on the plain. Or is it plane? Either way, according to the internet the weather in Spain is beautiful. Here in Turkey, it's raining. My goodness it is raining. 

This is the first holiday I've booked in some years, and I was rather looking forward to a bit of sunshine.  There is one consolation for me, and that is that (again, according to the internet) London is suffering at the hands of much worse weather than here.

We are in Icmeler, a small resort not far from the hectic, pseudo-British resort of Marmaris. We drove through Marmaris on the way here. There were many amusing places. For example, a pub called 'The Rover's Return'. Also, loads of pubs are advertised not just as pubs, but as 'fun pubs'. I certainly like to have a significant amount of fun associated with my choice of pub.

I find it almost a shame though, that this place is so orientated towards British tourists. Lots of shops, restaurants and cafes put their prices in pounds, rather than lira. For me, it takes away a lot from the authenticity of travelling abroad. At the same time, it does make it much easier to get things done as most people here speak English.

It is a beautiful place. Probably more so than I was expecting. It's like the Gower but on a more tropical scale. Pine clad mountains join up with lovely beaches to create a gorgeous scenery. It would be nice to find some bit of beach that isn't littered with sunbeds. The view is better from far away, when you don't notice them so much. I suppose the same can be said of the Gower, with it's lovely geology frequently interrupted by caravan parks. 

Why can't we let lovely places be? It's difficult, isn't it? Because we want to see and explore these lovely places, but we also want to be to have a drink and a sandwich while we do it. 

I hope Icmeler doesn't grow too much more, because it's a charming place, that you can readily walk the entirety of in a day. But you feel the demand from tourists, and the fact that tourism is Turkey's largest growing industry, will only allow for expansion into more of the scenery. 

Workey Turkey

Oh Margey

You came and you found me a turkey

On my vacation away from workey.

That's a song that Homer sings to Marge when she visits him on a work trip. Homer from the Simpsons, rather than the one who did the Iliad and the Odyssey. 

Conversely, I'm on holiday in Turkey. We flew from Gatwick, even though I had a sort of morbid curiosity to experience the roller coaster that is T5. We flew to Dalaman Airport. The difference in working culture is evident when you arrive at the airport.

Gatwick was insane with kids running around stuffing their faces with sweets, massive queues, everyone having to take their shoes off to go through security, holiday makers stocking up on duty free cigarettes and booze, motorized carts bumbling past....

Dalaman was like a ghost town/airport. We were the only flight to have arrived in the last hour or so. Everyone queued to get their visa (£10 per person, valid for 90 days), then queued to get through passport control. The staff were so laid back, they didn't even look at my picture, they chatted casually to each other and stamped my visa without even glancing at it. I was a bit disappointed by that, as I wanted them to see my surname, which is Turkish, and to erupt into welcomes. 

Then we sauntered out to get our luggage. We waited all of 3 minutes before my massive pink suitcase appeared. Then strolled through the almost empty airport to find our transfer man waiting for us. I was pleased with that part, as he had my name on a board, and I've always wanted my name on a board waiting for me at the airport.

In general I think I prefer the Turkish way, to the manic and miserable British style of airport management. 

I heart DLR

For someone who lives in West London, I adore the DLR.

Maybe it's because I am constantly disappointed with the service operating around Shepherd's Bush. What with station closures, extortionate prices and bendy buses, I can get very riled.

The DLR always seems a lovely departure (pun intended) from the unreliability of the H&C line, the pushyness of the Central line and the awfulness of bendy buses. The views are great, aren't they? And best of all, you can sit at the front and pretend you are the driver. I am the driver! It's me who's driving this thing! 

So, I was extra double super delighted when a package arrived with a DLR postmark. (do they deliver directly from the carriages?) Inside was a celebratory package including a DLR carriage box with jelly beans in, 3 DLR watches in a very fetching green, red and blue plastic design and a DVD about the joys of 20 years of DLR success. 

I wore the watch for almost 12 hours. Then it got silly. I didn't watch the DVD. But the question is: how does the DLR know about my feelings for it? and why is it rewarding me with sweets and memorabilia?

Then, a week later, ANOTHER package arrived with identical contents! What's going on DLR?? Are you buttering me up for some reason? do you want me to be the new face of the DLR? 

I now have 6 DRL watches. Does anyone want one?

Struck Down

So there I was, enjoying my Tuesday night after working all day. Then I get a call from my flatmate. She sounds grumpy. This, in itself, is not unusual. But she sounds super extra grumpy. And demands I come with money to collect her at Shepherd's Bush tube station so I can buy her a cab home.

To me, this sounds too much, and I am clever. I say to her that it would make more sense to hail a cab and I will pay for it when she gets home. This still means I'm paying for a cab ride I'm not benefiting from, but it's preferable to schlepping all the way to the tube and driving back.

She tumbles out of the cab with only one shoe on. Either she's had an excellent time or a terrible time. Turns out she went over on her ankle at the parkour class I sometimes go to on a Tuesday night. She got too cocky and fell over. Kids - take note.

So I'm rushing about tending to her, getting her a yogurt out of the fridge, getting her a tubular bandage, letting her take up the entire sofa with her big fat swollen ankle, and suddenly I start to feel very queer. 

I get very cold and start twitching and shivering like a buffoon. I opt for bed at this point. In the morning I wake up and am very poorly. I resemble death after a heavy night's binge drinking. I am in a bad way. I have a viral infection. I cannot accompany my crippled housemate to the hospital. Then my boyfriend arrives from a trip to the dentist and looks like he's had a stroke as he can't control half his face. We appear to be a house of horrors.

I don't go to the doctor. I don't like going to the doctor. I don't like wasting their time with illnesses they can't help with - like coughs, colds, viral infections... Also, I had a terrible time the last time I went to a doctor in Shepherd's Bush and as such I'm not registered in London. I'm still registered in Cambridge. I need to find a new doctor in town. I'll let you know when I find a good one.

In the mean time - don't get cocky when jumping off things and remember to drink plenty of fluids.

Glamorous Watford

I could barely sleep on Saturday night, so excited I was about the Heineken Cup quarter-final featuring my beloved Ospreys and my not-so beloved Saracens.

I thought my excitement had somehow transmogrified into making it Christmas day, as when I opened my curtains in the morning I discovered Shepherd's Bush to be smothered in snow. Snow! In April! In London! what nonsense.

Curses, thought I, this won't suit the Ospreys expansive style and will play into the sturdy, if unspectacular, hands of the Saracens. I got dressed in almost my entire ski outfit. With wellies. And mittens.

The train journey from Baker Street was bizarre. The entirety of North London was covered in snow and still it was falling. Whizzing past the train windows, making me feel as if I were in a wintry version of Brief Encounters. 

We got to Watford. I can't imagine ever having any desire to live in Watford. What joy is there to be had in Watford? None. I can confirm. 

We froze in the shabby stands of the Vicarage Road stadium while the Ospreys fumbled their way to a undeserving loss. A miserable way to spend a Sunday. Especially when I could've stayed at home and made a snowman. In April.

Grand National

Grand National day is quite a nice way to make a rather uneventful Saturday into a Saturday with a mild bit of interest. That's if you got a punt on. Obviously if you don't, and have no interest in horse racing, it is simply just another Saturday.

I used to spend all my weekends at my grandparents house so usually I would be there when the Grand National was on. My grandfather would write down all our favourite names of the horses running and would go off to the bookies and put a quid on each way for all of us, and have a few on for himself. Very sadly he died last year, which meant I had to accept the grim reality of a less fun Grand National. 

Also, living in London means I don't spend my weekends at my Gran's house in Swansea. But it got me reminiscing about the Good Old Days and I roped my housemates into putting some bets on. I did it on the internet, which was obviously a bit easier for me as it involved no human contact, but it was actually really confusing and I wish I had the balls to just walk to one of the many, many bookies in She' Bu' and be a bit more straight up about it. 

Betfair.com was a bit of a struggle to figure out and I ended up spending more than I anticipated, doubling everyone's bets to a whopping £2. This would never have happened had I just stepped out of the house and walked a few metres to Ladbrokes and braved the gambling addicts. 

As it happens, we all lost, and only my horse even finished the course. But it did make for a slightly more exciting Saturday teatime.

April Fool!

April Fool's day is a very odd phenomenon. Obviously not the day itself, that happens every year, and it would be very unusual if a year went by without the 1st of April.



Pranks. On an international scale. It's like an excuse for corporate people, people whose jobs for the entire year, excepting one day, operate with consumate professionalism. So April Fool's day offers the opportunity to be really, childishly silly.



The Telegraph reported on a BBC documentary on penguins flying, including a video. Hilarious. Apparently GMTV did a thing about a cream that makes you lose weight without having to diet or exercise. I think that's rather cruel, playing with the emotions of overweight people across the country.

Giggidy Gig

I've Got 3 gigs this week. That's a lot for me. I don't quite know what to do with myself.

Obviously I enjoy doing them, else I wouldn't do them, surely? but it stresses me out just to think about them. So I don't, and then I'm really under prepared and I stress extortionately.

Some gigs are wonderful. Some are not. Last night was not the best of gigs.

We were doing a set at 'Laughing Stockwell' which, in principle, should be an awesome alternative comedy club. The venue is brilliant, it's just like the room where the backwards talking dwarf from Twin Peaks lived. If you are a Twin Peaks fan, like moi, you will find this both thrilling and quite unnerving.

There were only 7 people in the audience. Sometimes this can result in a beautiful, intimate gig. Most of the time it ends up as a pretty rubbish one. This was the latter.

Because, you see, there were only 7 audience members, and of those 7, maybe 2 were alternative thinkery (clever) enough to keep up with most of the acts, and even if you keep up, you might not find it funny. It was not a barrel of laughs. It was a medium wine glass of laughs.

So, I compel you, if you live in South London and you are clever and enjoy quirky, experimental comedy, to get your behind (plus rest of body and money for entry (£4) down to 'Laughing Stockwell' on a Sunday night.

High Brow

Here's a confession, I waxed my eyebrows this weekend for the first in in about a year.

So now I look significantly less like Ronnie Corbett than I would wish, but still enough like him to keep my boyfriend happy.

The reason I left it so long was because I wanted to get it done professionally, you know, by one of those intimidatingly made-up women who waxes you and never flinches at your glass-shattering screams. That's what I wanted. But I totally chickened out. I spent about 2 months walking past the various hairdressers and beauty salons on my way home and checking the price of an eyebrow shape/wax.

I wasn't scared of the pain, goodness no! I rather like it, it makes me feel alive. I was scared of the women themselves. And of looking like a buffoon. Also, I am still distrustful of anyone altering my appearance after the horrendous Toni and Guy debacle.
However, I have just booked a holiday (I have been obsessing about it) and I need to get my pins waxed. But I know I will wuss out of going to get someone professional to do it and I will do it myself, which is a lot worse, in my opinion. So how do I pluck (pun intended) up the courage to go to a salon? Is there a particular kind of salon that is better for this sort of thing. Does anyone recommend a particular salon for a first timer? All help greatly appreciated. Not just by me, but by the world too. My legs are so hairy I'm sure they are significantly contributing to global warming.

Age is in the eye of the beholder

I was having lunch and trying to write in Cafe Tuga (as I am often wont to do) when I was coyly approached by a young lady.

She stood about 3 metres away and coquettishly looked my way. So I told her what a pretty dress she was wearing - which she was, a purple fairy number - and she brushed herself down and looked very pleased.

She edged closer and climbed up on a chair about a metre from me. We continued our conversation and then I heard the most lovely adorable thing I've heard in aaaages.

I asked her how old she was and she told me that she was three and a quarter. First - awww! Then she asked me how old I was so I said, why don't you have a guess.

She sat there and screwed up her face as she had a good think about it. Finally she said "two?"

Awwww!!

She thought I was younger than her! I'm 23!

It's snow joke.

The world is in somewhat of a pickle. It snowed today. And is now gloriously sunny. A friend of mine on Facebook had his status as wondering 'who left the weather on demo' and that was making a lot of sense.

The weather has been completely barmy recently. Fortunately I own, not one, but two pairs of wellington boots. They are awfully pretty AND practical. I bought my first pair because I was on the verge of getting trench foot, despite owning upwards of 30 pairs of shoes, nearly all of them were useless in anything other than obliterating sunshine. So, I went to my favourite place - the internet of course, and found some beeeeeyouteefull wellies for only £17.

On my January trip to Paris though, they broke! I think the Eiffel Tower done 'em in. We did walk up it, after all.

Fortunately I was bestowed with newer and even lovelier wellies on Valentine's day. I later found out they were bought in Leicester. Possibly they are the only good thing to have come out of Leicester. The three times that I have been there have been underwhelming at best.

What I'm saying is, don't get angry about the weather, just invest in some trendy waterproofs.

St Patrick's Day?

Why does the entire world go bonkers for St Patrick's day? Although, having been so caught up in the red tide that was the Welsh 6nations campaign, I barely noticed its arrival this year.

In fact, I only became aware of it being St Patrick's day as I walked to work and passed 'The Toucan' on Wimpole Street. It's a classic Guinness pub, its mascot being the Guinness toucan from the old advertising. I walked passed and it had inflatable green hats and inflatable giant pints of Guinness dangling from the awning. I thought 'is someone having a birthday or something?' before realising that, of course, it was the day that people use as an excuse to get drunk in the name of a man no one knows anything about.

Well, I know a thing or two. St Patrick was a Welshman, you know. Also, this year March 17th was not St Patrick's day as the Pope disallowed it to happen in the same week as Good Friday. So the official Catholic stance was that it was to be celebrated on Saturday the 15th March. But clearly everyone was too busy enjoying Wales being awesome at rugby, and the Irish were down and out after a shabby performance at Twickenham. So poor old St Paddy has not had a great 2008. Was there a parade or something? Who cares?

My best St Patrick's day was a rather illicit one. I scived off school, aged 15, to meet some friends in the pub. I had about four pints of Guinness and was in bed by about 6pm. I remember it was a glorious day and I had a lovely sleep.

The Other Half

I had a meeting today at Shoreditch House. It was one of those times where you are given a sneaky peek into a way of life that is almost inconceivably different to your own.

What a place. I think it was a big old factory or something and it's been turned into a super trendy member's club in the heart of the East end.

It's so cool. The style of the place is like a bunch of squatter artists have taken over and designed it to look effortlessly stylish, mega trendy and subversively expensive. It has a gym, a billion bars, a rooftop restaurant with panoramic views over the construction of the East London overland line (not so good), and an outdoor heated rooftop terrace swimming pool. Lovely.

The only problem is that being there can make you feel like a bit of a tosser. Especially if you have any level of social conscience.

It reminded me of the time I worked at Lord's in the hospitality boxes. My goodness, people have money to burn. Lord's is a beautiful place, but some of these corporate guests were spending over £2000 a day on food and drink alone. But then not tipping a penny! I've postulated before that the rich stay rich because they hardly tip. The most generous people are often the ones who can least afford it.

I wish I could afford it. I'd tip loads, I promise.

Slam Dunk Da Funk

I'm afraid with it being Six nations season I am completely unable to focus on anything other than that. My entire life revolves around the WRU at the moment. The amount of times a day I check the BBC website, and the RBS website and the WRU website is borderline psychotic.

However, I'm having a whale of a time. It is difficult to explain to someone who is not a Welsh( or Scottish, Italian or maybe even Irish) rugby fan why this is such a wonderful campaign.

To have been so immeasurably rubbish at the World Cup was really embarrassing. I cried after the Fiji match. It was arguably one of the best matches in World Cup history, for neutrals, but I wept. I lay on my kitchen floor and I sobbed.

Yes. I am a loser.

But not this 6Nations I ain't! For a tiny country to do so well after such drubbings is heart-warming and life-affirming. Like the film Wimbledon.

I suggest for those who are interested but don't quite get it, to get themselves to Cardiff this Saturday. There will be an awe-inspiring atmosphere. Alternatively, for those of us stuck in West London, The F3K may well prove to be a home from home, and if it's anything like it was last Saturday then it'll be a cream cracker of a game and a great experience.