My arse

How many times can one person damage their coccyx bone in one lifetime?

Twice it seems.

So last night it happened almost a year to the day my arse landed heavily on a metal bar in Thailand. This time it was all the way down the stairs at home, in front of two of my house mates. That's 16 bangs on the butt on the way down. Lesson learned: eat more chocolate in future for greater padding.

Just a warning, there may be a bit of 'I love my life' snippets in this blog. So yes, I do love my life. On the weekend I went away. Again. Yes, I know. And before you ask, no, I don't earn millions. Nor do I eat soup everyday. Well, actually, I do sometimes, but that's cause I like it. It's just really easy to travel here. I went to Oslo for £10 return. Sure, add spending money on top, but how much would you spend on an average weekend? Booze, clothes, dinners? Yea. See. Thought so. Ok, I would probably spend more, but it's affordable. Way more affordable than most of my english friends would like to believe.

So Norway. Now that I've gone on a rant about money, it was so freaking expensive there. So much so that there will be no mention of how much money was spent. Ever. Money can't buy experiences. Nor can it buy about 18 hours on a train, 8 hours on a bus and 3 on a boat in one weekend. I am definitely well versed in all forms of Norwegian transport.

The whole reason for this transportation expedition was to see the fjord country. It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as I was expecting. Perhaps it was the time of the year, as there was still a lot of snow around, but I was imagining rolling hills, lots of greenery and all I saw on 'one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world' was snow. Now, snow is nice. It's pretty. I like the way it falls on tree branches. I even like snowflakes, but 7 hours of snow. Come on!

Bergen, which is the gateway to fjord country, was lovely. It had the most amazingly colourful weatherboard shop fronts along its pier which dated back to 1380 or something like that. Vic and I decided in order to save money that we would climb to the top of Bergen's mountain overlooking the city instead of taking the funicular. You know when you decide to do something and it's a good idea at the time and then, almost as soon as you start, you realise how bad the idea actually was? This was a prime example. But, we were rewarded with the most spectacular view after almost an hour a vertical climbing and a lot of sweat.

We also ate the most amazing buns. They were so doughy and soft, and were filled with an almond paste and then topped with custard and light dusting of icing sugar. We ate two just to make sure how good they were. The Norwegians have also totally embraced pear which is what I will be doing more of. Pear drinks, pear chocolate, pear pastilles. Pear, so the forgotten fruit of the 70's.

I must go ice my arse now.

Morocco

I've just come back from the most amazing holiday.

I feel lucky. So incredibly lucky. I often think this. I mean, do I seriously get to go on these wonderful holidays and visit these places some people could only dream about? This is my life and I love it.

So Morocco was mind blowing. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it far surpassed my expectations. Africa is intoxicating. Life there is simple, hard and somehow makes you feel ashamed for being Western. By no means would I want to be a woman there. I can't tell you how many men we drove past in the country who were either lazing around in groups on the street or sitting around cafes while the women lugged bundles of produce on their backs. I can only imagine how many women get raped there. Perhaps it is only towards Western women, but it seems if you're a female, you're basically a piece of meat and men are therefore entitled to act like animals toward you. It's wrong and uncomfortable, but it's a society where everyone's roles have been played out for centuries and somehow, it works.

I can only wonder what they think of us Westerners. While their way of life is by no means enviable, I kept on thinking how ridiculous they would think my life is. Rushing around constantly, never having time and don't get me started on how meaningless my job is. Western life is so vacuous. We obsess about the most superficial bullshit it makes me feel ashamed and stupid. The more time I spend in poorer countries, the more I think they have it right. All the money in the world can't make your life richer. What right does the Western world have to throw their weight around in countries such as Africa and the Middle East when, by comparison, our values are often inferior to those of these countries?

Anyway, enough ranting.

So on the first day Skinner and I lay on the rooftop of our riad and listened to the afternoon prayers which are broadcasted out over speakers all over the city. Having the sun on my face was amazing. I think I actually announced how amazing it was at least 6 times in 15 minutes. Anyway, after that we went exploring around the Djemaa el-Fna which is Marrakesh's main square. Skinner and I downed a couscous, tagine, pot of mint tea and half a kilo of biscuits in about half an hour. It was a good start to the holiday. After wandering around the souks we then decided it was time to eat more at the food stalls they had started setting up for the night in the middle of the square. I can't begin to tell you how amazing the square is. Imagine the most amazing smells, the sound of snake charmer flutes and Berber drummers set under an open air eating area.

I found myself wishing I had spent way more time paying attention to my numbers during French lessons at school. Perhaps remembering which was left and right would have been helpful too. While I was quite good at making small talk and asking how much things were, and even asking for directions, I had problems putting the information I got into practice as I only know my numbers up to 30. Here's an example:

Me: (in French) How much?
Stall owner: (in French) Blah blah blah
Me: (in French) That's too much!
Stall owner: How much then?
Me (can't think of any numbers) No thanks, bye!
Skinner: How much was it?
Me: Um, I don't know

Mum would be so proud.

So we then found a safari company and decided to go on a 3 day trek into the countryside. The next day we headed by mini van to the Sahara via Ait Benhaddou, Ouarzazate, Erfoud and into the desert by camel for a night of camping. It was amazing. Trekking through the Sahara is one of the most incredible things I've ever done. It was stunning. Mind blowing. Breathtaking. When we got to the campsite we climbed up a sand dune just in time to watch the sun set over the Sahara. We stayed the night with our Berber hosts and sat around in a tent made of local rugs singing songs and telling riddles. Sounds naf as, but it was really cool. I even got up and did some Berber dancing with one of them. We then retired to our rug tents which were, to put it simply, freezing. We slept on our rugs that we had for our camel ride with another blanket on top for 'added warmth'. That and having to wear all the clothes I brought with me! Anyway, I loved it. We go up in time to get on our camels again and watch the sun rise before heading back for a 10 hour car ride back to Marrakesh. I realised during the trip back that I had left my underwear in the tent. It was so dark I couldn't see anything, so since then I've been getting flashes of the Berber dudes sitting around playing their drums with my underwear on their head. At least they were clean.

When we got back we decided to try another riad that some people we met had stayed in. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we ended up staying in the most beautiful riad for a dirt cheap price. It was stunning. There was a small pool in the middle of the courtyard with an open air roof looking out to the stars. Our last day in Marrakesh was spent visiting the tannery and have the ins and outs of pigeon shit by some random dude and watching the goat carcasses still with hoofs carted in and out. We then got hasseled by the local dude who had taken us there and got a bit freaked out by him following us. So we found a Hamman to hide in, and what a great place to hide. I got my arse cheeks seriously scrubbed by this Hamman dude. Because of my inadequate French I wasn't entirely sure what we were in for, but it was fantastic. We were in this stone room where we got scrubbed, bathed and rubbed in mud.Comparing notes after, Skinner's cheeks didn't seem to get the same scrubbing as mine which was slightly concerning, but still, mine were all the better for it. We then had an amazing couscous for lunch, went to the Majorelle Gardens tried to go a museum but the taxi dude took us to a completely random place instead, sat in the square and soaked in the ambiance over a coffee and then had our final meal at the night markets followed by another half kilo of biscuits. Mmm.

Then I got totally felt up by a female security officer at the airport. It was really weird in a slightly violating way.

Anyway, back now, feeling slightly depressed and having my wisdom teeth out tomorrow. Ugh.

P's and Q's

What does that mean anyway? Thank poo? Pank Q?

So I had a really interesting conversation with a friend today which prompted a debate on how we were both raised. The differences were pretty small, but seemed quite significant in relation to our conversation. My mum raised me with the 'proper', largely old school English set of manners. It's wrong to assume, but I kind of thought they were the universal code that most kids were brought up on in 80's Australia. Now, for the most part, they are a little stiff and don't necessarily need to be used every day, but they are there and I kind of like them. For a country that has little tradition and a society that seems to be repelled against it, I think they are important and I'm starting to feel a little protective of them.

This led to another conversation about being a 'gentleman'. A part of me feels indignant, of course I can open the door myself, but for all the feminist shit I dish out, it's really nice when a male opens the door for me. It's not about not being able to open the door myself, it's about someone wanting to do it for you. Again, it comes down to holding onto something that has been done for years and preserving a small part of tradition.

When I was little, having to ask to leave the table, not being able to watch tv at dinner and finishing my meal by putting my knife and fork together EVERY TIME annoyed the hell out of me. Now, it feels important. It's the little thing I can pass onto my kids because what will happen to society without good manners? I mean this in all seriousness. We already live in a largely self absorbed and non traditional society, what is going to become of us if no one gives a shit about preserving little things like manners?

Sooooo, what do you do?

So I've been doing some thinking. Fear not, I haven't exerted myself too much, nor will a theory be named after me, but I've been wondering how many people actually think like me. On more than one occasion I've been called 'strange, weird, eccentric'. Sometimes I'm ok with it, other times it pisses me off. I figure, to some extent, most people think like me, but just don't say it. Other times the things I unearth from the dark, very dirty crevasses of my mind are probably privy to me and mostly shouldn't be said. But all that aside, lately, I've met more people who think like me and I like it. So how many more are there?

I don't do small talk. I suck at it. I would rather just meet someone one and say 'fart' and then take it from there. None of this 'what do you do' bullshit. My lack of enthusiasm for chit chat usually makes people think I'm stuck up, rude, a bitch - the list is kind of endless. But the older I get, the less inclined I am to do forced conversations. I guess living over here as given me a lower tolerance for hanging out with dumbasses and a greater thirst for finding interesting people.

I wonder what the ratio is for how many people actually know us. Not in a 'if Joe had the choice to be a river or the sea, which would he be' kind of way. But more like how many of our friends and family really know us? There are different levels of our personality we chose to share with others. To begin with, we only reveal the part that we think the person would best relate to. Then hopefully you move on. But for the most part, we find a level of understanding and mutual interest and the relationship grows. However, how many people can you say confidently really know and understand all of the different layers that make up who you are?

Can I just finish off by saying there was a newspaper article in the paper about a woman who sat on the toilet for 2 years cause she got stuck. Her skin ended up growing around the toilet seat. Luckily, her caring boyfriend brought her food and water. I guess it's kind of like one of those potatoes you grow in a jar.

Also

I realised the other day that BBQ City is becoming a distant memory. It made me both sad and of course hungry at the same time. It's almost been a year since I had my last meal there. Home is far away. My old life even further.

Deep thinking is over. A good song has come on the office speakers, it's time for chair dancing.

A new addiction

I’m finding it a little hard to write at the moment. You know when you’ve eaten so much that the usually lose skin around your stomach is now so taut that you figure this is the closest feeling to pregnancy? Well, imagine that and then some, maybe think triplets and that’s how I feel. Ugh. It was good though. I love team lunches. I love sausage and mash. And fries. And greens. And dessert. And wine. Lucky I’m heading to Brussels this weekend. I like for my stomach to be prepared for full eating capacity.

So news. Well, at work we are currently looking for an art director to work as my partner. Weird, I know. Especially when some of the people we’ve been interviewing have also been going for creative director roles or have worked at some of the best creative agencies in the world. Hmmm, could I feel anymore inadequate? Probably. Like if I was standing naked next to Gisele Bunchen, or if Dave Eggers read some of my copy. But that’s it. Oh, a humanitarian of some sort would probably do it too. And one of those 18 year olds who have started their own multi million dollar company and retire by 21. The whole process is weird because it’s kind of like being set up for an arranged marriage.

I’ve also been going insane booking things. Holidays and culture are the flavour of the month. I could be my own entertainment company. Wait, I am. I am so freakin’ excited. It’s the type of Vanessa excitement that means bunching my fists, doing an ‘eeek’ (the girliest one I can manage) and squeezing my eyes closed. I may do a shake of the head too. But not in an epileptic way, it’s more of a Hindu performing princess movement. I’m getting to a point where I can’t go a week without booking something. I may have a problem.

Ok, I really need to do some work now.

Snot good

Cultural difference number 46: Pantene is pronounced Panten. Weird.

In other news I have been sick again. Cold number 4 in the past 2 months. So many germs, so little time. I seriously think that if the world suffered some superbug type thing. Ok, so it has, let me re phrase that, if I was subjected to some kind of superbug I'd definitely be the first to go. I feel weak and disappointed. I am a healthy person. I run. Yes, I get a stitch and can't seem to go past the 30 minute mark, but still, dammit, I sweat and get sore knees. I eat my recommended 5 servings of fruit and veg a day. Why am I at the top of the list for being wiped out? I think I might blame my mother. I am a child of an older woman. While I am more likely to be a genius (1. left handed 2. born to a woman over the age of 40 3. can't remember the third reason), I feel like I am slightly defected in the immune and sporting categories. Wait, I think the latter is my Asian genes. Ok, I'm just susceptible to germs. Do you know what I hate too? People commenting on you always being sick. Like you hadn't noticed that you've blown half of your body weight out in snot for the past 3 days.

I think I'm going to be one of those old people that glares at the young folk and tries to run people over in their old personmobile.

I'm sleepy.

Oh, I booked to go see the New York City Ballet, I can't wait!! I decided that I would go have a me moment and see the ballet on my own. I've been wanting to see them since 1996! Yay!

Ok, I'm going to bed. Excitement over.

A new quest

I had the most random night last night. It was one of those nights where you plan to have a quiet one, and end up coming home at 4am. So after going to a 'jam session' last night, I am now thinking I want to play the guitar. Along with my signature dish, I could so be one of those really really really handy people who, when going to someone's house can not only whip up a spontaneous yet superb dish, but then gather everyone around for a sing along after. Maybe around a roaring fire.

Let's go back to say, 1994, when I played the flute. Now under the influence of my mother, who wanted me to play a musical instrument and my sister, who I idolised and had played the flute, I attended flute lessons. I sucked. So much so, that my teacher gave up on trying to teach me for exams and indulged in my requests to compose my own music. I was seriously hideous at this. In every piece, there was no kind of rythem or chorus or whatever you call it, instead, I wrote in a 'trill' in every piece. Now this 'trill' sounded like a bird. Why did I included it? Do I like birds? No. It was because I only liked doing things I was good at. Obviously not much has changed, because last night, I made everyone who could actually play the guitar play Babara Ann over and over again so I could join in on the chorus.

But now I want to be a guitar player. I know I'll forget about this by hmmm, next week, but still I'm strumming the idea of this around in my head (HA!).

Signed, sealed and delivered

I've decided I don't need a signature dish because I've discovered I can actually cook without trying. Yes, it's like when Teresa grew boobs overnight*, I've tapped into some ninja like culinary powers, and overnight, I'm a iron chef Vanessa.

I am planning on cooking a prawn laksa tonight. There is no end to my capabilities. I can hold my head up high in the communal kitchen now.


*I'm still waiting for this to happen to me

I love London moments

Every so often I have I love London moments. Well, at least that's what I decided I would call them about 15 seconds ago when I thought I needed to write a blog entry that didn't revolve entirely around food*.

So life is normal here. It's like living in Adelaide except people scowl more, I spend way too much time on public transport playing a game I like to call 'Who is a potential serial killer' and always forgetting to bring one of the following when I go out: London A-Z, umbrella, gloves, scarf. But in the midst of going about everyday life, I love it when the true gems of how cool it is to live in a city such as this one randomly appear.

For example, today I hung out in east London. I don't think there is anywhere else in the world where there are so many varied people, cultures, beliefs, sexual preferences, fashion trends, foods, interests in one city. It's truly amazing. For everything that is wrong with this place, there are hundreds of things that are right, interesting and dare I say it, kind of wonderful . Mostly, they are small in significance, but are so validating when every so often you wonder why you would choose to come and live on the opposite side of the world away from your family, friends and BBQ City**.

This afternoon I spent the afternoon eating and wandering and then eating some more. For lunch Vic and I shared a red pumpkin curry amongst people who were playing a backgammon type game on little tables set up in between the eating benches. This crucial lunch decision was only made after at least half an hour deliberating between the Japanese omelet, pad thai, Ethiopian, Caribbean, vegetarian and Chinese. We then kept going past Brick Lane to this amazing bagel place with a line out to the street. After stuffing our faces with a cream cheese and cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, we went to the flower markets where we got three bunches of tulips for £5 and on the way back, stopped into a vintage kitchenware store who were serving free tea and coffee. When does that ever happen? Especially in London! Maybe this doesn't sound so wonderful to you, or interesting, or exciting, but it was just one of those simple days where life is good and you are happy. Or perhaps I've been spending too much time on the tube sitting next to people whose breath smells like manure and am starting to appreciate the simple pleasures a little too much.

*By the way, food is mentioned, but only in context to the story.
**BBQ City doesn't count as a food reference as it is in relation to matters of the heart

Not signature, but still a scribble

So today I was:

1. Photographed
2. Praised like the slow child in the class who had finally learned how to tie her shoelaces at aged 12 when....

I cooked dinner tonight.

Not signature but still, the flatties were impressed. Probably not with the creation, but more at the fact that I wasn't eating oatcakes for dinner and I was actually frying something.

Dinner was (insert a very impressive drum roll, perhaps royal like)

Seared salmon fillet sauteed with honey, various sauces dans le cupboard and guacamole dip. Served on a bed of baby spinach, vintage (slightly off) tomato, roasted capsicum (ok, it was roasted) and julienne style cucumber. Finished with a drizzle of lime and seasoned with cracked pepper.

The praise of the aroma and presentation were showered upon me by the boys.

Now they are suspicious of my 'new found' abilities and I'm thinking I won't get their leftovers anymore. Boo.

Greatness update

Breakfast: yoghurt and museli (duh, would I have anything else?)

Mid morning snack: boring, not worth writing about

Lunch: smoothie, soup (important lesson learned: 3 cans for 70p = GROSS), toast with honey, muller rice - apple flavour (best rice pudding creation ever), rice cakes, apple

Afternoon snack: too busy presenting work. Yes, I am very, very important. Actually, while I am talking about my importance I'd like to highlight my lack of volume control while talking due to blocked ears as well as sounding like a man. A nasally man. Like I said, important high flyer. Ok, I know I didn't say high flyer before but that's because I only just thought of it then.

Dinner: miso soup, hommus and bean dip with various items from the fridge, oatcakes with honey, yoghurt with honey, some Italian biscuit thing dipped in honey, more oatcakes.

I went a little crazy tonight because I found Aussie honey at the supermarket.

I need a signature dish NOW so I can at least add it in the mix of dairy, honey and oatcakes in my diet.

Signature dish

So I've decided I need a signature dish. You know, one that you know off by heart and can just whip it up when the need arises.

Scenario: dinner party and the host forgot to make a dessert.

Host: "Oh my god, I'm such a bad host, I forgot to make a dessert!"

Me: "Don't worry about it [insert name of host], I can make us a [insert signature dish] in no time."

Host: "That would be great. Thank god I invited you. And here I was thinking you were just one of those people who come to dinner parties, never return the invitation and always have thirds."

Me: "Pfffft, that was so 2007. I now cook and have a signature dish."

I'm thinking that sticky date pudding could be it. Ok, I've made it once. But it was good that one time. Can you claim a signature dish from a one time making? Can you claim a dessert? It's not very useful other than made up scenarios like the one above. I think I need a main dish. Perhaps some kind of green thai curry or something with asparagus. Or fennel. Wait, I don't really like fennel. Leek?

I feel I have the potential to be impressive. Not in a high school report card 'impressive but never applies herself' kind of way, more like, that's the best leak curry I've ever had, shit Vanessa can cook.

I'm going to surf for recipes now.

Please hold for culinary greatness...

Amendment

Obviously I don't want to ride in a hose and carriage. It's probably not that romantic and probably more dirty than anything else. Great. I've ruined my one girly fantasy by making it dirty. Even the word fantasy is dirty now. Sigh. It was late. My brain has a dysfunctional relationship with my fingers. I am an idiot. But I'm keeping it in there for everyone's amusement.

2008. The Year of predictive text.

Yes, I am embracing all things new in 2008. Starting with predictive text. My attitude towards predictive text was originally similar to my initial attitude towards pointy shoes: ugh, yuck, ugly, why bother, you look like a witch. Then, after 5 years of scorn and missing the cool shoe boat completely, I give them a crack and decide they are actually ok. This is now me with predictive text. Previous attitude: ugh, why bother, spell words out yourself dammit and this is another example of laziness in our obessesed with saving time society. Clearly I should spend less time thinking about unimportant things in 2008.

Hmmm, I might start thinking about fiscal responsibility and 5 year plans.

Mmmm, speaking of plan, that rhymes with flan and I saw the best looking one in a window of a bakery in Amsterdam on the weekend.

Where was I?

Ok, I realise it's just predictive text and I'm not making the world a better place or preventing my late life onset obesity for when my metabolism truly dies from eating apple pie for dinner (last night) by promising to go to the gym in 2008, but this is a big thing for me, hence the announcement of its introduction to my life.

Onto other things. After being stopped at the airport by the security frisk lady and questioned about my age i.e how old are you, I was looking around for your parents, I've decided I may boost the maturity levels too this year. Now, don't get me wrong, being mistaken for a 17 year old is nice, but I feel like I get more and more immature as I get older. Seriously, I was way more mature when I was 18. Now, I am about 12 and wearing a trainer bra. Ha, wait, I'm still wearing one. I'm not sure how I go about this 'I am mature hear me roar' thing, perhaps having a competition with your housemates as to who knows the most swear words in different languages (me - hands down.....pfft amateurs) is not a good start. But really, is it ok to be 40 and still laugh at poo jokes? It's scary that according to society/sister precedent/nature I am suppose to be nesting and listening to the faint tick of 30 and it's freaking me out. I haven't even begun to gather the twigs and you know what, I don't want to. I'd rather stick marshmellows on my twigs and toast them over the fire. Hmm, is this some kind of metaphor for my choosing fun over the bur(n!)den (ha - burnden!) of financial responsibility and life stability. Perhaps, and I am so ok with that.

This weekend I enjoyed more marshmellow and went to Amsterdam. God, I love that place. I could happily live there. There's something about the place, the people, it just fits with me. The weekend was relaxing and believe it or not, Megan and I were still sick for most of it. But we managed to eat, drink and shop ok. Thank god.

This Thursday Megan and I are off to Vienna and then Salzburg and I can't wait. Finally, my girly fantasy of riding in a hose and carriage will come true and I will be able to gorge in all things apple and sausage.

Maybe I should go to bed now and actually get to work on time tomorrow, cause that would be, you know, mature.

Ugh, again with the too much funess

I'm sick again. Damn snow. Well, probably damn the too much fun in the snow part but let's not dwell on the details and throw a little sympathy my way for I cannot swallow or breathe and I really need to go to sleep because a. I didn't get enough sleep last night and had to be up at 515am to catch a plane which would end up being delayed by 3 hours and b. it's NYE tomorrow night and I have some partying to do. Oh, and I also want to go shopping. Airborne germs are really messing with my social life and capacity for tolerating phlegm.

Ok, so being the ski bunny I am, I have just got back from the snow. Oooh, it sounds sooo European. If only I was as graceful at skiing as I am at, um, eating ice cream? Stepping over cracks in the pavement? Hmm, so point is, I am probably the most unco skier in the world. Pascal, my ski instructor, said I looked like an aeroplane taking off for Sydney whilst going down the slopes. That's what you get for trying to put technique into practice. Ridicule.

So let's go back to the first day at the snow. Megan and I are there, primed in our ski gear, minds like sponges ready to be turned into pro skiers by a preferably hot French ski instructor (note to self, next time try snowboarding)to be told our lesson isn't til the afternoon. So being the proactive person she is, Megan decides that we should play around on our skis for a bit. I agree thinking we'll put them on and do some gliding around on the flat bits. So we do that for oh, all of 5 seconds before she suggests we should catch one of the chairlifts to the 'beginner' slopes. Yes, great idea to do that when you were too scared to slide down the slight bump in the flat bit earlier. So Vanessa decides the slope doesn't look too high from the bottom and really, how hard can a bit of skiing be, so she agrees to go up there. By the way, I don't know why I am now referring to myself in the 3rd person but let's go with it. So we go up the chairlifts (I am on one by myself) when I realise I don't know how to get off the bloody thing. The dude next to me senses this, and pushes me off it. I don't know how to stop, so I lose my balance, cross my skis and stop by falling flat on my back and hitting my head. Great start.

So after this minor blip, I make my way to the edge of the slope. The very steep edge that didn't look steep because I couldn't bloody see it from the bottom. So I take a deep breath, watch Megan stack it and hope that some of the Winter Olympic watching I've done in the past will pay off. It doesn't. I stack in about 5 seconds after take off. I try to get up. I fall over. I try again. Fall over once more, this time so my skis are all twisted. I lie back in the snow wondering how I am going to untwist my skis and if a helicopter will have to come and get me down. While I am debating how long I can lay in the middle of the slope, a snowboarder comes and asks if I want a hand. Ummmm, duh. So I managed to pull him over three times while trying to get up, then he slides me down the mountain onto a flatter bit. In the process he tells me it's his first day snowboarding. Ha, don't I feel like a dickhead. So anyway, he leaves me standing closer to the bottom and as soon as he leaves, I fall again. This time I manage to get up on my own and make my way to the bottom and tell Megan I am never doing that again and we are waiting until our lesson.

I won't bore you so I will give you some dot points until another interesting story:

- the weather was fantastic, blue skies everyday, not too cold
- food was great, I became obsessed with ham
- my ski instructor thought I spoke fantastic French, ok, so he said very good, but I think they are the same. He even spoke to me in French when I kept on falling down one day during my lesson. I didn't really get what he was saying, something about falling on purpose but I was flattered he thought I did.
- xmas day was great. There was about 700 of us up there and we all went to the top of one of the mountains for a santa run down the slopes in our santa hats (note I didn't participate due to having only 1 lesson and hadn't learned how to turn at that point)
- got up on stage and did air guitar in a matching red wig with Megan at the retro party
- made the most hideous looking snowman, we didn't realise there was a technique to making these things
- lost control during a lesson and accidentally groped one of the girls while trying to stop
- did snow angels in the snow with Megan (may have been the turning point in the catching of illness)

Final story is of my final day skiing where I had a spectacular stack. Yes, the skis fell off, snow went in my mouth, skis hit the thigh, there was skidding, turning and wincing on Megan's behalf who was watching. I had previously been congratulating myself on my beautiful turns (Pascal said skiing is all in the mind so I was building up my mind power cause that's what sports people do) when I went too fast, thought I was going to go over the mountain so I decided I would take one for the team. Smart yet bruisy decision.

So now I am back in London trying to get better so I can go out tomorrow night. I can almost breathe through my nose so that's a good indicator I should try and sleep.

Night and see you in 2008!

So obviously I've been having a little too much fun

Ok, it's been way too long since I last updated. And you know what? I can't remember what I've ben doing. Of course it's going to come rushing back to me once I've logged off and shut down my computer, so I'll do my best in my post flu state. Seeing as though I am getting old I must do some complaining about the flu I just had. It was the worst flu I've ever had. Ummm, that's about it because I've just been distracted remembering what I've been doing lately.

So, I went away to Winchester and stayed in the most beautiful country manor. Yes, la di da to me. I finally got to enjoy a perk as a creative and was taken away for a day and night (during work) with Sony for some quad biking, rope swinging and night of drinking and sleeping in the English countryside. The manor was a 5 star hotel and was sooooo grand. Breakfast was held in the most exquisite library with huge bay windows and dark wooden bookshelves. It was amazing. The buffet breakfast also helped with my extremely high impression of the place. I also had a team lunch overlooking the Thames at a rather fancy restaurant. Entree and main were nothing to rate a claim of 'best ever' in the Vanessa food stakes but the dessert was probably the best crumble I've ever had. It was delectable.

I also went very festive and went to some Christmas Markets in Lincoln. Now, the thought was there to be all festive and whatever, but seriously, when it's pissing down with rain and you've never been so cold in your life, the cheer dies and you look for the closest pub. Lincoln was beautiful, despite the rain and hoards of old people. I left wondering why I had gotten up at 5am on a Saturday morning but somewhat pleased with my yule tide efforts.

Friday I had another team day out which involved a flotation tank. Yes, it's a little 90's. No, it's not my idea of relaxation, but I was happy to try it. So imagine me naked (well, actually, don't), in a egg shaped pod listen to some whales mate with a porn red light on. Got it? Ok, so after trying to 'float and relax' I hit my head on the tap realising I was floating the wrong way around. Having messed up my 'free mind state' I get tank (salt) water in my eyes and find myself desperately grabbing around for the emergency water bottle. In the process of using the jet function in my eyes (I'm not sure which hurt more) I get more salt water in my eyes. I realise I didn't bring any make up with me and I now look like a panda and have to face my team (5 blokes) for the rest of the team night out. So I get out of the pod and look for a mirror to try and wipe my eyes. Can't find one. Get back in the pod - right way round. Decide to try and relax. Change mind and decide to open pod door again to see what the time is. Bump head on stupid pod door. Have only wasted ten minutes. Have 40 minutes left. Get back in pod. Close pod door. Lay down and start pushing myself from side to side in the pod. This is fun. Do this for about 15-20 minutes. Then decide to try flipping over onto stomach without getting salt water in eyes again. Not the best idea. Decide to try and relax. Start thinking head is very heavy in supposedly easy to float nil gravity water. Must have a lot of brains. Try to relax again. Find relaxing position of legs crossed and arms folded above head. Almost alseep when wales start mating again and it's time to get out.

So I don't think I'll do that again.

Ok, gotta go to bed, if I don't get to write again before next year, pray I don't break any bones skiing in France and I don't get hypothermia.

Wind chill -40. I'd just like to remind everyone that I sit at work which is heated with a blanket around me. I may not leave my room.

Why thy loves himself a little too much

Let's face it. I work in a really wanky industry. Up until now I've been pretty lucky with tosser levels registering low. Extremely low in fact. Now, let's not get confused with maroon jumper dude and yes, he still bugs me. Let's just recap why. Rather than him being a wanker as such, he's just a knob. It's the fact he stares at me blankly when I fake smile at him and say 'hey' when crossing paths (I now just stare him out - soooooo much more satisfying), his gross maroon cable knit jumper, his Bevis-like snigger and his pondering into the air (puh-lease). Even his purchases of Doritos every lunch bugs me. Ok, ok, that one is a bit petty, but I think it's the combination of too many red colours (head, jumper and chip packet) that messes with my senses.

So, back to the real tosser. He can't go five minutes without some kind of self gratification. For example, and I'm not exaggerating, well, he might be, and I quote word for word; 'I can't not do brilliant work'. He even described himself as being 'the radar' in advertising. If he's the radar, I'm definitely the perforated paper (the bit you throw away)when you get a stats print out. I don't quite know what that means, but I liked the analogy. It's hanging out with people like him that make me realise I'm never going to go far doing this job. Well, my lack of enthusiasm may be a good indication, but I know I'm certainly never work at one of the grand dame agencies. I think I'd probably have to start wearing a beret, change my name just V and maybe up my perforated paper analogy to at least blip on the radar status. The dude isn't that bad, but I work in a fairly egoless place, and when you get exposed to one, it's like staring at the water when it's a sunny day and you've forgotten your sunglasses.

Ugh, I need some direction. No, I need to be paid to faff.

Also, I put together my list of future travel places today. It's rather extensive. It means a lot of zigzagging around countries. It also means finding a lot more money. I like how I use the word 'find' like I have a chest full of money under my bed. Perhaps 'earn' would be better. Or 'win the lottery'. I'll share my list when it's more complete.

It's nice having a blog but...

where do you draw the line in regards to who you tell about it? For example, I had one of those scary big brother moments today at work. Hypothetically speaking I wanted to download a certain music program onto my work computer. Now, working in a slightly more strict/professional organisation than my last place, such 'illegal' (and I use that term loosely) aren't allowed. So I decided to be tricky and pretended I wanted to know my admin password for updating software. Yea, that backfired and now I have 50 new programs I don't want, but the point of this story is that IT logged onto my computer and started fiddling around this stuff, that also included spotting the music program I had tried to download. In true Vanessa 'I can't lie' style, I started stumbling over my words when he questioned me. His line of questioning, by the way, was using my cursor to circle it in a disapproving matter while we were on the phone. He couldn't even bring himself to say the name of the program aloud. Plus, I had written my entry about mental health day on one of my work word docs and realised that was on my desktop. Whoops. Now, this story is slightly long winded, but the point of it is, when you want to do tricky things, or in my blogs instance talks about chucking sickies or talking about people who you work with who tend to wear maroon jumpers and 'ponder' a lot, it kind of limits who you give it to. Especially when people ask.

Maybe I've just answered my question, don't let people I work with see my blog.

Now, that I've solved my own dilemma, I should really get my own talk show.

In other news, I had a work thing last night that involved me being wrestled over a sofa by a 45 kilo chav chick from Essex and then beer poured all over me. The thing about London is, you go hard and then you go home. You had to make that vital decision, do I catch the last tube home or do I keep going and hope to make it home. With my sense of direction and tendency to walk with my keys in my hand ready to stab (I have recently found out this is not an effective form of self defense) I choose the tube option.

In food news a really good restaurant thingy has opened up near work:

www.leonrestaurants.co.uk

I had it for lunch yesterday and today. Reasons why? Good food - tick and it appealed to by Asian 'I seek any good bargain' side as the food was all half price. Yesterday chili con carne (people here do not know how to pronounce this dish) and today, Leon Gobi followed by a Twix. Then I had a brownie explosion and then hot chips before going to see one of my favourite movies of all time. Yes, I have something to contribute to my stark/non existent favourite movies list; The Darjeeling Limited.

Ok, I'm tired. Bye.

Friggin domestic goddess

I would just you all to know that I made an amazing curry thing the other night. Flatties even said it 'smelt good'. Yea, go me. I even put fresh coriander in it. Did you hear that? Fresh. Oh, and garemasala or however you spell it. Perhaps a little too much though as someone at work today said whatever was in the microwave (my lunch) smelt like a mince pie. However, I'm sure it was probably the best non mince pie they had ever smelt.

That's it.

I do not earn enough money

So today was mental health day. Well, my mental health day. It's amazing what people get up to while you're at work. Like do lunch. Go shopping. Not get told that a line in your copy sounds too much like a song? What the? And you do you know what the greatest thing is about living in London? When you take a sickie, you'd be pretty unlucky to bump into someone you work with.

So today I had a bit of a sleep in, did my washing, took it to the laundromat (hello new soft Primark sheets), met Skinner for lunch....have I mentioned my favourite lunch place in London? Food for Thought. Best bread EVER. Seriously, it's so good. Soft on the inside and so crunchy on the outside. It's almost the equivalent of the satisfying taste of the crunchy outer of a freshly baked brownie, mmmm, brownie. Anyway, so today's flavour was onion, not as good as walnut and sage, but still, oh so satisfying. Where was I? Oh yes, lunch. So then after debating whether we should get a brownie we decided we would wait for afternoon tea, but then I realised that Ben's Cookies was just near where we were, and seriously, who can resist a biscuit with melted chocolate on the inside? Not me, that's for sure. So we made a pit stop there on the way to the British Museum where we were going to check out the Terracotta Warriors. Despite having the conversation as to whether we should book, we didn't and discovered that following through on conversations about booking for exhibitions in London is smart. We unfortunately were not. So we settled for mummies and what not, and then decided the V&A would be a better bet.

On the way we stopped at Harrods for what should have been the best hot chocolate ever, especially seeing as though it was £5, but it was, unfortunately, crap. We got over this slight blip in an otherwise good food day by walking through Harrods food court, and then headed to the V&A. After looking around there for a bit and seeing a really old and big Persian rug (yes, this is the only thing which really stands out from the visit) I went to the gym and then off to Kate and Jonathon’s for a roast dinner and biscuits (provided by yours truly). Why work?

New house, frozen nose. We can't have it all.

Stubborness is a curse. It causes you to do stupid things like decide it’s a good idea to move house in London on your own. Actually, moving house on your own is a stupid idea no matter what the location. Especially when it doesn’t involve a car. So instead of accepting the help of others, I moved myself, dragging the masses of crap I’ve accumulated over the last 7 months down the street to my new abode (which is awesome by the way).

Do you know what is also a curse? The cold. The kind of cold that freezes your nose at night and causes you to lie there with your duvet over your head, but with a little peep hole so you have fresh air. This whole process is difficult to perfect and uncomfortable. I know this won’t make a lot of sense to some of you, but the cold here chills your bones. And it’s not even winter. Prepare yourself for more complaining. On the upside, my new mattress is a lot more comfortable. So much so, I can roll over and not have springs stab me in the back. Woohoo! I’m liking my new housemates. I feel I can talk about midgets freely without feeling like I am going to be judged. Especially seeing as though there is a blow up doll in our kitchen.

In other news, I’ve bit the bullet and bought a zone 3 travelcard. I’ve been fooling myself for the last 7 months that I live in zone 2, when in fact, I don’t. And it’s too cold to be playing ‘I live in zone 2’ games i.e walking 20minutes. So now, it’s more of a 5 minute walk, which I think is worth the extra £5 a week.

This weekend is going to be jam packed again. Ok, so when is it not. But I may even get to squeeze in some tv!! Yay! Hello mind numbing goodness. I’m worried I’m going to have to start cooking at my new house. The guys were cooking something with prawns last night which looked really good. It was making me feel inadequate and I am more of an ‘eater’ than a ‘creator’. I may have to bring out the culinary skills. Wa-cha! (that was culinary karate).

The feet have touchdown

So when it rains, it pours, and this is definitely the case with the house situation.

During the week there were various developments starting with:

- me having a record breaking week in flat visitation
- a guy from work offering me a room at his flat
- me meeting a potential new houseshare group and being successfully 'chosen'
- seeing more houses for backup

So as a result, I accepted the new flatshare after being labeled a chosen one. However, there were a few problems. Firstly, it wasn't furnished, I couldn't move in for a month and I didn't really like the girl. Yes, slightly big problems, but I was desperate and said yes anyway. So last night I went and saw the house with these people. It was nice, in Angel (beautiful area in North London) and it would have ended up being reasonably cheap because one of the guys' partner was going to move down next year. However, it still left the problem of it being unfurnished and me being homeless for a month. So, I arranged back up flat visits later that night. The first was a house just down the road from where I live now. I went and met the flatties and we all hit it off immediately. The house was nice, fully furnished, I could move in straight away and it even comes with a TV!! I stayed for a cup of tea - they are all english so my tea consumption is going to rise even more. I didn't even go to the other place I had arranged to visit after because by the time I walked in my front door I had a message asking me to move in! So today I let the other people know I wasn't going to move in, which was incidentally lucky because now one of the housemates is hitting on me. Plus, adding to the rain count I got a message from another backup asking me to move in too! Ah, I love it when things work out.

So now I am de stressed and rather peppy. I am looking forward to cleaning the mould off all the walls in my old house this weekend before moving in somewhere with carpet and hopefully a flushing toilet. I am so moving up in the world. Although, my room is next to the toilet again. Is there a pattern here?

Today I said goodbye to Cassie by way of high tea at Shipps Tearoom. This place is so cute with tea cups hanging down from the ceiling, 40's style chairs and table cloths and the most delicious range of cakes, tarts and slices. We feasted on scones with clotted cream and home made jams, cucumber, cheese, smoked salmon and ham sandwiches as well as orange pekoe tea, a slice of pear tart as well as lemon drizzle cake. It was very grand. However, I now want to vomit.

This weekend is the last for Weir Road which will be a bit sad as it's kind of the end of a chapter. We are celebrating with a massive cleaning session on Sunday followed by takeaway curry. By the way, I just want to say I haven't eaten chocolate all week, despite many temptations along the way. I'm like a machine of strong will, but mostly just stubborn as I didn't want Skinner to beat me as I failed miserably last week after day 2.

Homeless in 8 days

So I’m in the middle of house hunting hell. Yes, it’s seriously hell. You’d think it would be easy. I’m in a city where there are so many transient people, surely I’d be able to find a room. Well, no I can’t. I’m a loser. Looking for a room in a houseshare is seriously like having to audition for Big Brother. Well, it’s how I imagine auditioning for Big Brother would be like. You get about 5 minutes with your potential housemates to woo them and make them remember you out of the 200 applicants they get for the room. So far, I haven’t mad much of an impression. Well, I have, but not in the right way. Last week I looked at a place that had a 30 year old female living there. She didn’t quite believe that I was 26, but after insisting I was, she seemed to believe me. We then proceeded to bond about Sex and the City and other various girly things. I thought I was kind of a shoe in, because a) she said I was looking really good and b) well, there is no b and although it was way out of my budget, I was going to take it. So the next day I got a text message from her saying she was really sorry, she had given the room to someone else, but if I wanted, we could go out for a drink sometime. A drink? I don’t want a drink, I want a freakin’ bedroom! Ugh. I also saw another potentially good place which was just down the road from where I am living now. I made the mistake though of telling the guys that I really liked watching this show about midgets on tv. The delivery of the story was atrocious, which I acknowledged and they did too, we all laughed, but now I am thinking they where laughing but thinking this girl is a freak. I got an email saying they really liked me but they had given the room to someone else. It's not you, it's me. That old chestnut! Last night I got asked if I stole and then if I screamed in the middle of the night. I mean seriously.

Now, I am truly getting desperate. I am like one of those 35 year old women who go out on the prowl at every available night out sporting a black leather mini skirt and their black backpacks that were kind of cool in the 90’s but are now the equivalent of happy pants. It’s like going speed dating. I’m meeting someone (or sometimes 5 people), thinking we get along and maybe we have a future together, imaging what it would be like to live with them, and then BAM, they don’t call. Why don’t they call? Why don’t they want to live with me? I’m normal(ish), clean, don’t have any weird habits. I know I tell pointless stories and sometimes, ok, most of the time deliver them really poorly, but they don’t know that. Ok, enough whining. Oh crap. I just realised to add to my failings in life, I can’t count either, I thought I had 14 days left. This particular point calls for more than just a ‘crap’, hmmm, ok, SHIT! Sorry mum, but it was called for.

Other than house hunting, I’ve been, ummm, ok, house hunting is all I’ve been doing. I did manage to squeeze in my first proper restaurant meal in London on Saturday night. Apparently it’s Gwen and Chris’ favourite restaurant, well, that’ according to Vic, and I’ll believe anything. It was amazing. As usual I picked the crappiest thing on the menu, but it was still good, but not as good as everyone else’s. I really need to address my order envy problem. I’ve tried copying others, but then I convinced myself that my meal is better, but it never is. Why try and be different? When it comes to ordering out, individuality over way overrated. Speaking of food I am undergoing a challenge this week. I am not going to eat chocolate for 7 days. I tried going without for 3 days last week but failed miserably. It was embarrassing. I know where I went wrong, it was the caramel Mc Vitties. Damn that caramel biscuit that so cleverly holds the biscuit together when you dip it in your tea. But now there is pride and money at stake. I will overcome my weaknesses and show those non-believers that I can do it.

Wish me luck.

Brain and foot freeze

My brain hurts. I’ve been working and having to think way too much of late. I mean, seriously, I need a good 2-3 hours per day of faffing to survive. Plus, I need to be surfing the net instead of working. I mean, I’ve got important things to do like look for somewhere to live and also look for winter holiday spots for my trip with Megan.

Looking for somewhere to live is so painful. Because we haven’t been paying our bills properly, like not paying council tax and not owning a tv means that my bills haven’t been that accurate. So now, when I’m looking for a place to live that has a tv, occupants that actually pay the bills they’re suppose to and maybe a house that doesn’t have mould growing everywhere, it’s a lot more expensive. Plus, it’s so competitive. You have to firstly email the person who is advertising and try to sound normal and considerate, yet fun at the same time. Then, you have to go see them and the room, then, if you’re not a complete nutter, meet the rest of the housemates for a drilling session.

At the beginning of the week I went for my 2nd round interview at this 6 person share house near where I am living now. One girl was really hostile for reasons I don’t understand. She started talking about how the 21st of February was the day when most suicides occurred because it has the least amount of daylight. Then she told me we would be losing 4 minutes of sunshine this weekend with the end of daylight savings. Needless to say, she was charming. I got absolutely drilled on why I was moving out, why I wasn’t wanting to live with my current housemates and when I made the mistake of saying my current house was kind of crap, I got drilled as to why that was. Umm, maybe cause the heating hasn’t been working, the house is infested with mould, the toilet doesn’t flush and the letting agents keep allowing potential tenants into the house without asking. It wasn’t for me anyway cause the bills ended being £100 per month instead of £70 as advertised. This was on top of rent being £575 per month. Don’t convert. Don’t convert!

Another fun part of house hunting is going to never been seen areas of London. Like ending up in ghettoville when you catch the wrong bus going the wrong way. Then you don’t want to get your a-z map out cause it’s just not 'street enough' when you’re in da hood. Let’s just say I didn’t see East 17 when I was wandering around Walthamstow….

Um, onto other things, last night I went and saw The Vegemite Tales. It was actually really funny and resonated well with me and most of the Aussie audience. Some of the small things about living in London rang so true, like drinking wine out of mugs cause you have no glasses and the fact that so many Aussies adopt a strange affection for all things Cold Chisel as soon as they land here. Plus I heard the word ‘boofhead’ that I hadn’t heard in a while!

This weekend I am off to Manchester with Cassie. It will be fun to catch up with Vic and Nick and hopefully the chocolate place we visited last time I was there!!

Other than the house hunting and the manic workload everything is going really well. Oh, and also apart from the fact it is freezing here and it’s only autumn! It’s getting a lot darker in the afternoon now, so I can imagine winter is going to be rather depressing. I am also waking up with a cold nose and freezing feet every morning despite wrapping myself up in a blanket and wearing thermal pj’s. I think a hot water bottle may be needed, or and electric blanket.

SAAAT, sausage and goulash

I have returned from the lands of sausage and goulash and am all the fatter for it. I ate possibly the best sausage ever in Zakopane in Poland. Although, that means it would come up against the best hotdog ever in Hamburg. My Lady and the Tramp moment with Skinner is kind of hard to beat….

So I had a rather cultural holiday which was both pleasant and long overdue. My brain feels all the more enriched. Well, kind of. I was all for feeding my brain until I got to the Salt Mines in Krakow (admittedly, this was on the 2nd day) and had to eat my lunch and all associated snacks halfway through cause I was bored. But apart from that, I am now a walking culture machine!!

You know when people really piss you off and you want to give them a piece of your mind and never do? Especially annoying American tourists?

Ok, let me paint the picture.

Characters:
Stupid and annoying American Tourist (SAAAT)
VM (yes, that’s me)

Setting:
Auschwitz – English tour 5th October 2007. SAAAT is going nuts taking photos. So much so that she is totally disregarding what the tour guide is saying while trying to get the best angle of the death camp, gas chambers and torture areas.

Tour group enters a building that has a sign saying “Please do not take any photos inside this area”.

[SAAAT proceeds to take photos all through this area. VM does a lot of glaring at her. VM stands next to her while she takes a photo through glass. SAAAT does not turn the flash off and does a tut when she looks through the viewfinder and sees nothing but flash].

SAAAT ‘Tut’

VM ‘I guess that’s what happens when you take photos when you shouldn’t’

SAAAT ‘Mmmmmmppphh’ (but more like Mmmmmmmppphh, you got no game kind of way)


[VM walks outside and SAAAT follows]

SAAAT ‘I was only taking photos because everyone else was’

VM ‘Just because everyone else is doesn’t mean you should to. It’s extremely disrespectful to do it when there are signs saying not to’

SAAAT ‘Mmmmmppphh’

[SAAAT then walks off to take more photos of the death railway]

[VM does more glaring]

I actually should have known that this is what would happen. I guess I was hoping that people would have more respect. Places like that bring out the worst in people. I guess I can understand why people take photos, but seriously, what are they going to do with them after? Instead of absorbing things through their lenses, they should have just listened, took in the travesty of what happened and learnt a lesson about humanity. There was one guy who answered two phone calls while we were in one of the sheds that housed men in Dauchau (this was probably one of the most depressing moments in the tour) and another handful of people who took photos in the gas chambers. Why? I just don’t get what is wrong with people.

Anyway, besides that, we also visited the Salt Mines before heading off to Zakopane in the Polish Tatra mountains. This place was beautiful but freakin cold. We hiked up to the Morskie Lake which was stunning and then had a picnic by the lake. I had kind of forgotten the good ole backpacking tricks/tight arseness of stealing breakfast items for lunch, but quickly got back into the swing of things! Then, the next day, we headed to Budapest through the Slovakian Donovally area. Budapest was pretty, but there was something slightly seedy about it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it didn’t have the charm and beauty of Krakow.

And now I’m back. With no more holidays til December……

Wrong but oh so right

It’s funny when you’re in a foreign country and you’re suddenly overcome with a wave of nostalgia for home. Usually I feel it in my stomach. What I wouldn’t give for a pack of BBQ Shapes or Twisties. Or, even better, a Farmers Union Ice Coffee. Oh, and Fru Chocs. And Lift. OK, I’ll stop. But the reason why I’m talking of all things home is from watching the grand final on the weekend. Yes, I got up at 4am to cram myself into the Slug at Fulham to watch it live with a hundred other Aussies. Don’t ask me why. Well, I do know, it was fun. But, it’s wrong to start drinking at 5am. Ok, what am I saying? It's fun but snakebites? What have I turned into? Beer just should not be mixed with raspberry. Crawling out of the pub at 11am is also wrong. Especially when everyone else is going about doing their food shopping outside and you’ve been dancing to Barnsy in the pub. It was a good day and long night, filled with completely random fun including bumping into some people I had met in Croatia, stumbling into a dim sum themed pub and eating the best chicken kebab on the way home.

I can’t begin to describe how different my life is over here. Not that life at home was bad, just different. I feel like I haven’t taken a breath since I got here. Standing still is now alien. But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There are always so many new things to discover and my list of 'want to do' is endless. Of course I miss you all (and of course BBQ City) but I’m so happy here. Perhaps I’m in a hurry to do it all because I know it’s not my home and there's an end point at some stage, but if there had to be a temporary place to call home, I couldn't ask for a better one. Well, maybe take the tube and the bad weather out of the picture. Perhaps it's not even London itself, just the fact that I wanted more and now I have it.

This week I am off to Krakow and Budapest with Jen. I can't wait, although it's proof of how quickly time has flown, as I remember spontaneously booking it back in June. I'm looking forward, although this is not quite the right word, to visiting Auschwitz. Being able to go to a place such as this, that played such an important, albeit tragic, part in history is part of what living over here is all about.

The important things in life

There are moments in my job that I stop and think about how I can possibly continue to do this without shooting myself in the head. Don’t get me wrong, most of the time when I get told to think of headlines that can only contain 5 words, be emotive and use the word cow, I say “sure”. Then there are days like today where I get phone calls saying “the client doesn’t like the word ‘commemorative’”. I say “how about celebration?” The account service person says “mmmm, ummm, yes, I guess that would do, but can you think of more?” I put the phone down and then smack myself in the head with my hand. Then I begin to recall other professionally fulfilling days at work. Like the time I had an argument with an account service person about whether you say “via email” or “by email”. I mean, seriously, this is important stuff. Am I actually having these conversations? Do I really get paid to do this? Can I possibly live with myself doing this completely bullshit job?

Sorry. I’m grumpy cause I haven’t had enough sleep and at 2:55pm my shoes are still drenched from this morning.

Waaaaales

Let’s take a moment. I want to share my weekend with you. Shut your eyes. Think of me. She who recently had to Google ‘rugby words’ so she could sound like she knew what she was talking about on a job at work, draped in an Aussie flag, face painted with yellow and green wallabies and even drinking a beer (not Fosters, eeww) at a World Cup match. Yes, I was patriotic, sporty-like and in Cardiff on the weekend supporting the boys (ha!) for the Wales vs Australia World Cup game. It was awesome. Cardiff has arguably (because I’m an expert) the best stadium in the world. And, as told to us by our taxi driver, who could have talked underwater with rocks in his mouth, the only stadium in the world on the city’s High Street. The atmosphere was electric. When the Welsh sang their national anthem the hairs on my arms stood up. Of course, that was nothing compared to my singing of the Australian anthem which went something like ‘for we are young and free mumble mumble’. I do actually know all the words, but I had the Crows song in my head for some reason, so some remixing/confusion was occurring while trying to sing with due pride and patriotism.

However, I almost didn't get a chance to sing or see the game. Being the clever person I am, I left my £86 ticket on the ground outside the stadium. It was only after having my face painted and posing for a few photos that I realised, freaked out and ran back to where I thought I had left it. Luckily it was still lying on the ground, untouched.

Now, I’ve come to discover that when you start drinking at 11am, by the time it’s 7pm and you’ve already started a dancefloor at the bar, it feels like at least 1am. But I managed to pull through and get some free buffet in the process. Skinner and I were eyeing it off for at least half an hour before deciding to give it a crack. We couldn’t see any staff supervision, so we decided to risk it and help ourselves. Unfortunately, I was caught with plate in hand and the other on the handle of the spoon to the pasta bake when we got asked for a ticket. Luckily, I’m great at thinking on my feet, and stood there looking dumb and finally said ‘oh, do you need a ticket’? Skinner was no help whatsoever and thought of a comeback line about an hour later. However, we persevered and went in again with another game plan. To make other people without tickets go in front so they would get caught first. It paid off, and we ended up getting a plate full of food and sat in a dark corner stuffing our faces before feeling very satisfied.

It’s also a little depressing when the caravan park cabin you stay in is actually nicer than your house, so I have decided on a few prerequisites for my next house in London:

1) a toilet than flushes first go and seat not broken
2) hot water that works
3) a bit of carpet

Anyway, so the weekend was finished off with wasting time til the bus left with thinking of different food to eat:

1) Cajun chicken burger
2) Icecream
3) Twix
4) Cheese platter (mmm cheese)

I was also provided with a great source of amusement on the bus home. In fact, I’m still laughing as I type. The girl I was sitting next to was a heavy head nodder. So as she dozed on the bus, her head would fall to the side and she would continually donk her head on the window. Every time I heard the thud I started shaking with laughter. Silent laughter of course, I wouldn’t want to wake her up and then not have anything to laugh as it was a reasonably long ride home.

Croatia

Slackness is a terrible thing. It’s like putting jam in your cup of tea because it’s the closest thing around you can’t be bothered getting up for sugar. Erm, not that I’ve done that before…

Anyway, I am freshly back from Croatia, relaxed, slightly tanned no thanks to the crap weather and vowing to cut down on my food intake for at least a week (so far it hasn’t happened). My favourite place was Split. There was something kind of magical about it. The clincher for number one spot was on our last night there. When Anna and I were walking back to our hostel we wandered into an old square where an acoustic set was playing with couples doing impromptu tango. It was one of those wow moments in life that simply make you feel good and happy to the core.

Back to sailing. The cruise was fun. Our boat was probably the crappiest one in the line, but the people were great, food fantastic and really, that’s all that counts. Our captain was this 70 year old Croatian dude who got into the homemade liquor on one too many occasions and ended up partying with us up on deck. I think he got told off after one particularly big night where he insisted on me riding on his back and asking Anna to meet him in his room. It was funny though. After 3 days of stunning weather it ended up pissing down for the rest of the trip. The weather was so bad that we couldn’t port in the planned destinations and on a few days the rocking was so bad no one left their beds. With the exception of breakfast and lunch of course. Well, for me anyway.

In breaking drinking news I have switched to vodka quite successfully which is great for the availability and cost factors. Drinking, as it is in most European countries is quite cheap, as the cost of soft drink is almost the same as alcohol.

I’m quite proud of myself in the fact that I’ve waited 5 paragraphs to talk about the food I ate! Progress! Let’s just say I’ve never eaten so much bread in my life. It was so tasty with a beautiful crusty outer and soft inner. Mmmm, I’m getting hungry thinking about it. Ok, I got so hungry reliving the bread I had to go and get my lunch.

The excitement is not over though. I'm off to Wales this weekend for the Australia vs Wale World Cup match. Ok, I know, I know nothing about rugby, but I definitely do atmosphere. I feel my patriotism at an all time high.

Excitement is reaching an all new high

I have numerous things that I am excited about. I like doing lists, so the fact that I am listing what I am excited about is, in itself, very exciting. Maybe I also need to think of another word for exciting.

1. I'm excited about Megan coming over here to Xmas and New Years. HEAPS EXCITED!
2. I'm excited about my South Australia: It's heaps good t-shirt arriving - thanks Teresa!!
3. I'm excited about going to Croatia tomorrow. I'm jiggling with excitement about this one.
4. I'm super excited about seeing Kate tonight! Foie!
5. I got paid today!!

So at the moment I am doing a whole lot of nothing and trying to stop myself from jiggling at my desk. And also spontaneous smiling. I told a story at work this morning of how I couldn't be bothered cleaning the knife I was using to scrape my burnt toast this morning, so I wiped it on my palm and now I have toast ingrained into my hand. Perhaps it was a crap story, or perhaps (and this is probably more likely) they were wowed by my cleaning genius, so all in all, I'm trying to tone down the blabber, smiling and movement as I am going on my 4th holiday for the year and no one on my team has had one yet. Suckers!

I'm also trying not to check Croatia's weather every 5 seconds. I've recently worked out that BBC weather is extremely unreliable so now I am a dedicated follower of weather.com. It not only tells you the temperature, but what it also actually feels like and I find this a more accurate and well rounded weather source.

The weekend just gone was fantastic. Not only did I get a half day on Friday, but I ended up at the same pub that I went to for my birthday the week before. Then on Saturday I went to SW4 and had a brilliant time - I love The Shapeshifters!! Then on Sunday I headed up to Saffron Walden to spend time with the family and then Monday was Notting Hill Carnival which was crazy, fun crazy that is. The amount of booty grinding that was going on put my new found booty shaking abilities to shame! The worst thing was the raw chicken Anna and I almost ate at the Jerk Chicken tent. You would think that a piece of bird that was chargrilled to the point of total blackness would be cooked, but no. And what do they do when you show them your partly eaten bit of £8 chicken? Put it back on the BBQ to be given to another person! So wrong! I also tried some curried goat which so tender, but despite my newly found spice palate, I still had to shake my tongue in the wind to cool it down. Maybe I'm still slightly spiced challenged.

Oh, I also went to my 2nd West End show and saw Chicago with Cass. It was absolutely brilliant. I did some broadway moves after on the way to the tube. I think there was also some singing. Needless to say I was inspired to unleash my talents to the public.

Ok, gotta go and eat lunch. I've held out til 1, but then again, I have had a rice pudding and piece of bread. I guess some stomaches never change.

Ahhh, this time tomorrow I'll be on the plane!!!!! Wooooooooohooooooooo xx

Edinburrrrrgghhhhhhhh

So, you've been out for dinner (which was awesome by the way), have gotten to the train station in pretty good time to find out that the train is full and even though you bought tickets for £65, they won't let you on the train. So, you run for the Virgin train that's about to leave and is going to Glasgow via Birmingham and hope for the best. You meet a ticket chick who has the biggest front bum you've ever seen but love her cause she doesn't charge you extra for the tickets to hop on an entirely different train or for the extra journey from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Then you arrive in Birmingham at 2am, become a member of the Gala Casino so you can sit somewhere warm (couldn't find a bar), then hop on the train to Glasgow at 5:30am. Then, after no sleep cause you have a sleeping in public transport impediment, the train stops in a place called Motherwall cause there is a major signalling problem in Glasgow so you get off and then find a bus to get on that's going to Edinburgh. So, 12 hours later, you arrive in a freezing Edinburgh, thanking Meg's profusely because she gave you her jacket because you are an idiot who thought it would be hot there. That last point was based on nothing other than the fact that it was hot there last year despite the fact it was cold in London and going north = even colder weather.

So, Edinburgh welcomed us with gale force winds, heavy rain and a freezing temperature which was kind of good because the wind slapping my face kept me awake. We went and sat in a pub and ate then wandered around and found our hostel. The hostel ended up being a converted church and all the rooms had partisans with no roofs. So essentially, it was a really big sleep over in a church. We then headed back into the old town and sat in a pub with lots of old people for about 5 hours. I actually fell asleep sitting up which was the source of amusement for all at the table. We saw a funny show but had trouble staying awake, then tried to stay out (made it til 1:30 ish on no sleep) and then piked but ended up waiting in the rain for 1.5 hours trying to get a cab.

After having a good 5 hours sleep, we got up, had breakfast and went to a free show in the basement of some pub. It was funny, but my eyes kept on drooping and I was afraid he'd pick on me, so I spend the most part of it in terror that I was going to fall asleep in my seat.

Then we went to the Spiegltent/gardens which were really disappointing. They were completely different to Adelaide's Garden of Unearthly Delights, which is, in my opinion, waaaay better than Edinburgh's. There was no grass, no trapeze, no fairy lights. No doof doof food. Nothing. Just some plastic chairs and astro turf. So then we went and saw some street performers and then headed back to London.

26

Yep. I can't believe it. And I was just feeling ok with 25. Then BOOM. I'm 26. Another year older and kind of closer to 30 than I'd like. Surely I'd be a little more mature by now? Like some kind of overnight transformation. Mmm, overnight maturity. Like cheese. I could really do with a cheese platter. With fig jam. Oh, and a slice of pear. Camembert of course. Wait, no I couldn't. I am so full. This morning I woke up to an awesome breakfast surprise thanks to Skinner and Anna. We had pain du chocolat and croissants with cheese. Oh and grapes. And passion fruit juice, and if course, tea. Hell, it's England and it was kind of cold this morning. Then I got to work and had a piece of chcoclate mud cake on my desk with an oversized hobnob birthday card (it's so cool)and £50 worth of itunes vouchers! Then I ate some hobnobs (left over from being photographed for the card) with my tea. Then Kerry and Frances stopped past for lunch with me and my team at the bbq nazi place. Unfortunately I've had to do some work today which has totally ruined my otherwise fantastic birthday.

Yesterday I had the day off and spend it with mum. Actually, rewind that. It started on Wednesday night when mum and I went and got half price tickets to Les Miserables. It was my first time and it was really good. Oh and we had strawberry Haagen Daaz. Mum agreed that it was one of the best ice creams. Ok, maybe I have added some creative licence to that sentence, but she did say it was good. Then back to yesterday. I was hoping for a lie in, but mum was up and dressed at 8 and peering over at me, so I figured I should get up. We headed to Richmond for a coffee. There was a slight problem in the fact that no coffee shops were open, but we managed to find one and the coffee wasn't too rank (it's kind of hit and miss here).

Then we headed to Hamstead Heath (so we've gone from West London to North London) to find the famous view of London's cityscape. We found it, it was unimpressive, so we looked for somewhere to have lunch. We had the most amazing bread at this cute little pub. First off we had this beautiful ciabatta with pieces of olives and then, as I was feeling greedy, asked for seconds and got a basket full of sundried tomato bread. A total bonus.

Then mum and I headed to the National Gallery for some culture. It was good, but as usual when I am exposed to religious art, got extremely tired. Mum acted as guide and told me lots of interesting stuff which I tried really hard to retain, but forgot by the time we left.

After the influx of intellect and culture my brain needed a rest, so we went to Oxford Street. I didn't buy anything interesting (I am trying SO HARD to go shopping but I can't seem to find anything I like). Then we went to Busapa which is my favourite restaurant here. Everyone will be surprised to learn I ordered a curry (a real one - Muslim beef and had visible chili thank you very much). Mum tried some and said it was too hot for her. I think I may be hard core.

So tonight I'm heading to Islington for drinks and dinner, then Skinner, Anna, Cassie and I are heading to Euston to catch the train to Edinburgh at 11:25pm. Ewwww, night train. I found out it's going to be 15 degrees there and I didn't bring a jacket. Ugh. Oh well.

Biggest joke for today. Mum received my postcard from Hamburg which apparently had about 5 spelling mistakes and sentences (spelt that word wrong on it)that didn't make sense. I checked that it wasn't my atrocious handwriting. But mum double checked and realised it was just cause I'm a dumb ass. Yes, I am a fantastic hire as a writer. This is why I want to laugh when people ask me whether certain words need apostrophes etc. As if I bloody know!

Ok, gotta go down the pub. It's birthday drink time.

The weekend wrap up

I had an interesting weekend. A couple of things happened.

I played Frisbee for the first time (although this may be like ‘I’ve never been to Hamburg’ when indeed, I was there in 1988 and forgot)

I met three people in one night that I didn’t like

I quite obviously acted like I didn’t like these people because they picked it up straight away.

Now, I know in regards to the last two points, some of you are going, nooooooo, you being subtle about not liking someone? Never! But seriously, it was in the first sentence with each of them that they made this claim that I didn’t like them. At the time it wasn’t true. But then this got me thinking. Do I not like them? Damn straight.

Let me set the scene. We had a house party. People came – phew, but a few mistakes were made:

1. Inviting the neighbours
2. Having my mum arrive the next day at 10am
3. Irish people meeting chicks at tube stations and then bringing them to a party of people they don’t know and then getting her to pose as his girlfriend

Now, for the most part, the house party was fun. The décor was excellent, even if I do say so myself. Tea lights were placed inside stolen lolly bags from Woolworths, the garden flooded because our drains suck and half of the garden was tramped into our house and we even had a dancefloor. Oh, and a token Sainbury’s trolley in the living room. Just for decoration of course.

Now, onto the tools.

Tool 1: Is one of our neighbours. He pissed all over our toilet floor. I don’t need to say any more do I? Oh wait, I do, he claimed the party sucked because there was no hip hop playing. I told him to go upstairs if he didn’t like the music. This was after he said I didn’t like him. I figured I had nothing to loose.

Tool 2: was highly offended when I asked who he was. I know, it’s very controversial asking random guests at your house party who they are. He consoled himself with some other random girl on our futon. It was romantic.

Tool 3: friend of neighbours and probably number one in the toolbox. In a nutshell; ‘I’m the biggest f*ckin’boxer in London man – yea’ (this was on repeat), throwing his drink again the wall (twice), jogging around the house punching the air Rocky style and bitching about how the party sucked. Plus he was the last to leave. At 5am he was still there punching the bloody air in the living room.

Oh, but in other news I’ve learned how to sleep with my ipod in my ears.

I also caught up with mum yesterday after furiously mopping and cleaning up 15 minutes before I was suppose to meet her. It was like the 90’s spray and wipe ad, but with waaay more dirt, no bad lipstick and Superman boxers.

I’m heading into dangerous territory (i.e the next age tick box) this week. I think I may cry. Plus, this time last year I was in Lake Como about to head to the Greek Islands. And now, I’m at work…looking up where I can go for high tea for my birthday day off – woo!

Orbing/Zorbing....whatever

Orbing. Was so much fun!!!

Ok, here’s the Orb 411.

Firstly, you have to do a run up and dive through a hole into the ball. I planned on being rather graceful, but my legs didn’t go all the way through, and they kind of bounced back up and hit the top of the hole. Then you get strapped in, facing your partner. Mine was Mimi, a designer in my team. Because we were two girls and it was fairly windy, we were airborne for parts. It wasn’t scary, hilarious would probably be a better description. I was crying from laughter because the g-force was distorting Mimi’s face. Plus, she said she was going to vomit (probably wouldn’t have been as funny if she had actually spewed because it would have landed on me) and her head was bouncing all over the place.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. Today is absolutely beautiful and I’m stuck at work making a playlist for the party – ha!

Uh oh, it's after 5 and I haven't done work for a meeting first thing Monday morning!!! Ok, 30 minutes of thinking starting NOW.

Correction

It's shining. Can you believe I get paid to write? HA!

Encounters of the famous kind. Oh, and the arrival of summer. Finally.

Finally, summer arrived in London. It was short, but boy, was it good. The sun was shinning, get this, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And then this morning it was raining. It was glorious. London when it’s sunny is one of the best places to be. Well, apart from the Greek Islands, or Australia for that matter. Ok, anywhere is beautiful when the sun is shinning. The word shinning is looking wrong, perhaps I’m spelling it wrong, but then again it would be shining and that just wouldn’t be right. Hmmm, now I’ve spent way too long debating that completely useless point and I’ll never get that time back in my life. I could have been doing something way more productive, like eating my morning snack.

BREAKING NEWS! I just went to the chemist to buy some drugs for my snotty nose and saw Jamie Oliver!!!! So exciting. He’s a little porky and not very tall. But he was wearing purple and I love a man who wears the colour of sexual frustration. It was my first famous person sighting. Anna saw Matt Shirvington the other week and I was very jealous.

I had such a nice weekend despite feeling like I was going to pass out and also having weird temperature changes (and I wasn’t even on the tube!). Saturday I went to Notting Hill with Skinner. We walked past where Kirsten Dunst and Jake Gy(can’t sell the rest of his name) used to live. We also managed to stuff our faces with some lunch – the food there is fantastic. I had a baguette and managed to cut the sides and top of my mouth from eating it too quickly. Luckily, there was an icecream stand near by and I alleviated the pain with strawberry movenpick (cone not cup). Then we headed to Hyde Park where we lay on the grass, read magazines and laughed at a miniature French pug get humped on the head by a massive dog. And no, we did not get our kit off like everyone else making the most of the sunshine.

Then we went shopping, I finally bought a black bag to replace the free one I got with a magazine that I had been using (this info is no doubt fascinating to everyone) and then went home to get ready for roller disco!

Roller disco was so much fun. After we missed the train stop and spent about ½ an hour wandering around trying to find the place we finally got there and boy, was it worth it. Every gets really dressed up old skool style and they play 70’s disco tracks. There are some pretty awesome skaters there who even dance on their skates. Think funky black dudes NYC style wearing crazy lycra outfits. The hardcore skaters even have flashing wheels. I got all enthusiastic about roller skating after and even contemplated buying some to roll around the house in.

Sunday was spent lazing in Tooting Common eating M&S fruit salad and chips, listening to the pod and reading my book. We bought a Frisbee at the shop but decided we should practice in the backyard first before we let ourselves loose in public.

And now it’s another week at work, but it’s a short one cause we are heading to Brighton to go Zorbing for a team building thing. Should be fun! If I don’t crap myself doing it!

The Hamburger

Ok, so I am just going to get the food accounts out of the way first.

Filed under the best ever food category:

- Hot dog with this special tomato sauce
- Peanut butter flavoured chips (2 large packets inhaled)
- Mr Kebab - oh, I love you Mr Kebab. Best Kebab place in the world. I'm going to claim it right now. It's so much more than a kebab, it's more like a mecca of Turkish food. Mmmm, Turkish mecca.
- Pastries- I don't need to say anymore
- Hot chips - tomato sauce and mayo, again, surely no explanation is needed
- Snickers icecream that's like a Magnum
- Bar nuts (yes, I am aware of the germ statistics) so crunchy and better yet, free and endless.

Hamburg was nice. It was a little like Amsterdam, but not as good. It was cute and the area we were staying in was littered with little bars, pubs and places to eat. Unfortunately the rain from London followed us, so with much reluctance, we had to dedicate quite a bit of time to eating. It was hard, but someone had to do it.

Coming from London it was really strange to be in such a quiet city. We couldn't work out where all the people were! It made me realise how hard it will be to go home after London. Especially seeing as though Hamburg is bigger than little old Adelaide!

I tapped into my year 8 German lessons and surprisingly, I didn't do too badly. I must have been ok cause people would talk to me in German and I'd whip out a 'ja, ja' and nod my head. However, when they expected more of an answer, like other than 'yes' or 'no' I got into trouble. Or when they say 'do you know where x is' and I'd say 'ja'and then they'd expect me to elaborate. Hmmm. Mum, I even did a spontaneous 'sehr gut' after a meal!! There was no occasion to do my usual phase 'I don't have any pets but my neighbour has a dog which was unfortunate.

As for sights, we saw some really big stature of some dude who we named Dave, went into the city, hung around the student area which had some cute places to eat and funky bars, went to the red light district (Reeperbahn) and went to the art gallery. There is this section of the Repperbahn which is sectioned off, and if you walk through it (you'd have to be a complete dummy to do it cause there is a massive metal sliding door across the street) the pros throw stuff out the window. We saw neither pro nor a throw but we heard about this from a reliable source i.e a German person and my sister.

I think that's probably it. Oh, and I had to put my hand down a toilet to retrieve my favourite hair clip from Tokyo. It was a liberating experience.

Back to another week of work, next trip in 3 weeks when I will be celebrating my entry into the next tick box category. Ugh.

Mmmm, I have eaten so many naked men gummy lollies that I brought back for the team from Hamburg. Is it wrong to pig out on presents you bring back from other people? Ha, yea probably!

Hamburger

I'm going to Hamburg tomorrow!! Yay. That's all really.

Why, oh why is there no BBQ City for I?

I just wanted to share that I had the WORST Chinese in Covent Garden last Friday night. It was gross, and usually I like to see the best in food. It was even in China Town. Agh, so disappointing, but before you all start worrying about this life threatening disaster in my life, fear not, Cassie is bringing me a BBQ City menu when she comes in August. I plan to stick it on the wall and maybe lick it from time to time. Umm, too much information?

In other news, Anna, Megs and I went to Loughborough or Loogabooga as it is apprently referred to by some Aussies. We went for numberous reasons:

1. It was totally random
2. TV Rock were playing
3. Can't think of a 3rd reason

So word got around that there were 3 Aussie chicks around so that got us free entry (ok, so it was only £10 - or maybe less to get in but still, VIP baby!)into the club. We must have been hanging out in London too long (or maybe just way uncool) but we left this pre club bar at 11 to go to Rapture (yea, I know, dodgy name) and asked for directions. We got told that no one goes there til 1 and we'd be the only people there. So when went back inside and then decided that the security guy was wrong and headed off there anyway. He even shook his head at us as we walked away! So, we got there and yes, we were the only losers who got there before 12. But soon enough the cooler people of Loogabooga came and joined us and it started to get busier. TV Rock rocked and I think we boogied for about 5 hours straight. So Anna, Megs and I limped back to our hotel room which consisted of one smaller than average double bed. We decided sleeping across the bed was the better option and it was ok until the church bells went off every hour (not good when you get home at 5). So anyway we ended up checking out and having the best breakfast at a local cafe and then heading home. All in all a very good night.

This week has been pretty uneventful. The following things have happened:

- I learnt that you shouldn't always go for the cheapest Indian takeaway (not deterred though)

- My team leader has figured out I love food (well, duh)

- I saw our stupid real estate agent outside the tube stop. I couldn't work out who he was, then it clicked so I looked back and so was he so I gave him a mega glare and swore at him (yes, so I had turned around at this stage and I kind of muttered it under my breath but still, it was very street fighterish). Agh, stupid weasly idiot

- Tweens of today have no hope when a) they are called tweens b) read magazines called Go Girl and c) watch brain destroying Disney things like Hannah Montana, High School Musical and the Suite Life of Zack and Cody. The only trouble is, I am contributing in this descruction of positive self image and domination of American crap on the screens by writing ads for it. I think I need to go and build an orphanage or something...

- I used the word 'fab' in copy this week. It's sooooooooo English. Argh, I need to go srub my brain out

- I got paid out for saying yooooogurt not yogot. I'm just adding it to the list of stuff I am going to refuse to say such as 'hiya, trousers, you right and fella.

Tonight I am up in the country for my nephews party which is tomorrow. So I will no doubt be gorging on party food as well as two servings of cake as Anna and I have been talking up Cou Cou to Skinner so another round of cake will be had. Lucky we are heading to Shoreditch on Saturday night.

Hamburg this Thursday - yay, although none of us can remember why we are going.

I'm having trouble using my brain

I had a latish night last night and trying to form words is a little difficult. Oh, and I probably should have settled with one style of drink last night instead of changing each time I went to the bar. Ugh.

Yesterday arvo/night we had the summer forum for work. The place I am working for are seriously such a great company. They hold a forum twice a year to let everyone know what's been going on in the agency. They also show some work that the agency has done and show some stuff from around the world to inspire everyone (ok it sounds naff but it's cool). Then they put on dinner and drinks, oh, and there were carnival sideshows to match the theme of the day. What's better was this morning they put on a hangover bar for everyone with pastries, chocolate, red bulls, fruit and smoothies. I stuffed myself. Yea, yea, I know, it's a given. I'm dangerous around any kind of buffet. It was a wrong move though to eat two lots of kit kats.

This weekend Megs, Anna and I are going to Loughborough. I'm not exactly sure where it is other than it's in the Midlands and we have to get there by train and it's a college town. We're off to see TV Rock at a club, I think it's called Rapture. Ok, that sounds a little dodgy, but it's so random and it's going to be so much fun!!!!

Tonight I'm heading to Covent Garden for a drink after work, ohhhhhhhhhhh and guess what! I'm going to Edinburgh for my birthday!!

Ummm, news. Well, last Saturday we went to Brighton which was really cool. There was a bit of sun, and although it was very windy, we managed to lay on the beach which was more like someone's driveway with the amount of rocks (not pebbles)but was enjoyable nonetheless. We got the magical milkshakes - I went the apple pie with custard and cinnamon and seriously had the best chips ever!! They were so perfectly deep fried.

Oh, and Friday night I got to watch a bit of tv at Megs' house. It's too bad there was nothing on. Obviously only losers watch tv on a Friday night. I still got a fix though, and managed to stuff a double coated caramel magnum in my mouth as well as a frozen dinner. Yum.

Sunday Megs joined us for our Sunday night Party of Five dinner. We had chili con carne. It was really, really good.

Ok, gotta go, heading out to Convent Garden.

xx

Cultural confusion

Ok, this country is messing with my mind.

Chicken chip packets are pink. I couldn't believe. I was all ready to go and get a packet of chips from Cafe Choice (our building cafe) and I asked what flavour chips they had. First I was accosted for saying 'chips' instead of 'crisps, then I saw that instead of a chicken flavour chip coming from the green packet they were indeed salt and vinegar! I am shocked and dismayed at the backwardness of this country. However, to make up for it they do have micro chips that you heat up in the mircowave. That's brilliant. Oh, and you can go to this milkshake place that make milkshakes with flavours such as:

Apple cruble with custard and cinnamon
Crunchy nut cornflakes
Strawberry cheesecake
KitKat chunky
Spotted dick (hehe)

I could go on. I am hoping that an excursion to Brighton will be happening so I can drink the goodness that only a milk drink with some kind of cake can bring.

Mmm, we had strawberries with cream and chocolate sauce for Wimbledon which was great. Plus I ate someone else's too cause I am a pig. Plus I had strawberries on my museli this morning so I kind of have a stomach ache. I also had a massive roll and cookie at the markets so I need to lie down BIG TIME!

I found this food porn site which is now one of my favourite web sites. This chick just takes photos of her food. I love it. We may be kindred spirits.

Yay, it's Friday. The weeks are going so quickly I can hardly believe it.

Mmm, cheese wheel

I just wanted to share that I ate the most amazing thing at the Borough Markets on Saturday. Imagine a huge cheese wheel that was being burnt over a fire. Then the melted cheese is dripped onto a pate of baby potatoes and gerkins. Mmmm, well, that was my lunch on Saturday. Yes, I suffered from massive cheese related stomach cramps that night and afternoon. But it was worth it.

The weekend was action packed. Went to the Punch and Judy pub at Covent Garden (minus the punch and judy, then ended up at a pub called the Porterhouse. I don't think I've ever seen such a big pub in my life. I think there were about 4 levels and a million beers to choose from. Then on Saturday, cheese goodness, watched AFL in Clapham Common and then headed out for a night at the various locals. As always in this bloosy country, Bon Jovi was danced to. Sunday was spent with my friend Sarah who I met travelling last year. She was in London for about 8 hours so we managed to meet halfway between my house and the airport for a whirlwind catch up.

Last night I cooked dinner for our usual Sunday night Party of Five dinner. My Asian roots were out in full force with my stir fry concoction and my homemade 'asian fusion' sauce. It was followed up with flapjack appple crumble and custard. Go me. I'm going to make some man a great lil' wifey one day.

I can't believe it's July already. It's scary how quickly time is flying. Hamburg in a couple of weeks!! Yay!!!!!!

Weather report: pissed down all weekend.
Current weather: cold but not raining